EMP Catastrophe , Hamilton, Grace [crime books to read txt] 📗

if that would somehow make a difference. The car didn’t start—not even a whir. The vehicle seemed completely dead.

“I swear I filled up when I was last in town,” she muttered under her breath, even as that anxious chattering began in the back of her mind again. If she popped the hood, she’d only know how to unscrew the cap for the window-washer fluid, only be able to figure out where the oil stick lay. Vehicles had always been meant for shops and overall-clad technicians, for her to tip her hard-earned cash into their hands because she needed a new alternator or struts or premium gas because she drove a German vehicle. Neither David nor Matthew had an inkling about cars, either.

“I can get the gas cans from the garage,” Patton suggested. “They're full, if we need fuel.”

Ruth bit her lip, her hand tight around the keys still in the ignition. “I’m positive I filled up the other day. Maybe the lights were left on and the battery is dead.” She let out an aggravated sigh and pulled the keys out, letting them fall in a clink of silver into her lap. “Looks like our plan has been foiled.”

“Drat,” Patton said, “and I had such evil plots afoot.”

Ruth covered her face and giggled. “Like what? Replace cereal with cookies and candy bars?”

“Yup. My sweet tooth is notorious.”

“Where did you hear that word?”

“Allison.” Patton leaned back in his seat. “She said Mom's temper is notorious for going off at the worst moments. Is the freezer really going out?”

“It wasn’t as cold as it should be when I checked earlier today.”

“Was there any food in it?”

Ruth nodded. “I can’t remember what, but yes. Should we go check what exactly there is?”

“Yeah.” Patton opened the door and let out a hiss when his hand touched the hot plastic handle. “Geez, we should put this thing in the garage.”

Ruth couldn’t help but agree. It never failed: if one machine kicked the bucket, then more weren’t far behind. First the freezer and now the car…what could be next?

As Patton and Ruth made their way back inside and into the kitchen, she felt grateful for the wash of cool air still circulating inside the hotel. She wondered if she looked like a crazy lady of the mountain with her bun all askew and her dirty work clothes. Maybe it was a good thing the people in Galena didn’t get to see her this way.

Patton stood in front of the freezer and Ruth gave him a nod of approval. He gripped the door and pulled hard, finally getting the heavy door to budge. Together they stuck their heads inside, and Ruth’s heart sank. Something was definitely wrong with the insulation or the seal. The chilly air of the early afternoon had sunk into a lukewarm stagnant air that smelled faintly of plastic. The white buildup on the seal seemed thicker than it had earlier, and Ruth scratched at it with her fingernail.

Patton slipped further into the freezer and began looking intently at the wrapped packages on the shelf. “You’re right, Grandma. The refrigerator feels colder than this!”

Ruth pursed her lips together. “That’s what worries me. What do you see there?”

Patton picked up a thick package wrapped in white paper. “Looks like we’ve got lots of chicken.” He squinted at the writing on another package. “A sirloin. Some veggies.”

Ruth nodded, feeling a bit at a loss about what to do. “Let’s bring them out here. Might as well move them to the fridge rather than let them go bad in this warm freezer.”

“You know, Grandma,” Patton said slowly, “we could cook the food and preserve it.”

“That sounds like a good idea, but honey, I don’t know the first thing about preserving food.”

Patton handed her the chicken package. Ruth read that it contained five pounds of white meat. “If you want, one of my classmates held a demonstration at school on how to preserve meat. We were studying Native American history and traditions and she’s part Sioux, I think? Moved here a couple of years ago from the Dakotas. Anyway, she did this cool demonstration and cut the meat very thin and then marinated it with salt. We could try it?”

“What did she marinate it with?” Ruth asked, thinking helplessly of teriyaki and lemon zest.

“Salt, obviously. Vinegar, too.”

“Really now. What else did this young lady teach you?”

“She's just a friend.” Patton looked away, a blush high on his cheeks.

“I only meant to say that she sounds like a bright young lady, is all,” Ruth said primly as she opened up one of the cupboards and pulled out the ingredients, along with garlic and onion powder, a steak pepper seasoning, and something Matthew had brought from a trip to New Orleans. “How’s this look?”

“Looks good, Grandma. You really want to try preserving the meat?”

“I trust you,” Ruth said, even as her heart felt swollen with love for her grandson. Despite everything they’d been through, all the problems encountered, Patton reminded her of David when they first met in his level-headed ways, his acceptance of situations outside of his control, his ability to set his nose to the grindstone and find solutions.

“We’ll need to find a place to hang the meat strips up, somewhere cool and dry with good air flow.” Patton ran a hand through his dark hair and then put a hand on his hip. “I don’t know what to do with the vegetables, though.”

Ruth bent over and rifled through the other cabinets, pulling out mason jars, knives, and spatulas, all the while trying not to think about the bacteria that could survive on meat drying in open air. She knew a little about canning, a skillset her mother had used but which Ruth had almost forgotten. She remembered some of the basics. She let out a cry of victory when she pulled out a pressure cooker and felt more settled. Using both this and the gas range stove top, she would be able to preserve the vegetables and