Chapter 395: Chapter 395: Warming Up
Half a month into the post-disaster reconstruction, Evelyn Ford noticed the temperature was actually rising.
The head of Tarr Base had said his source told him there were still five years of extreme cold left. ’Could the extreme cold be ending early?’
Evelyn measured the temperature every other day. It had climbed from negative thirty degrees to negative twenty and was still showing signs of rising. But such an anomaly could only mean a greater crisis was on its way. Evelyn returned to the water house, staring at the groundwater for a long time.
"What’s wrong?" Officer Graham asked, finding Evelyn still in the water house, chipping away at the ice.
"The temperature is rising. The extreme cold should be ending."
Officer Graham looked at the pond. "Are you worried there’ll be a great drought next?"
Evelyn nodded. "It’s highly likely. If the temperature rises too quickly, we could face a severe drought. Once the snow melts and the temperature gets to five degrees above zero, we should build a cistern to store some water."
"Okay, but building a cistern requires clay or cement."
"There should be clay in the mountains. I’ll go look after the snow melts."
Back in the wooden cabin, Evelyn took out her notebook and recorded the three temperature readings she’d taken that day. A great drought would mean scorching heat, a land where not a blade of grass would grow, and a total crop failure.
She still had plenty of stockpiled leaves, enough to feed the Mammoths for at least another year and a half. But if a great drought really did come, she would have to move them into her space. Mammoths thrived in the cold and feared the heat. If the temperature rose above forty degrees, they would get sick and possibly even die.
For a long time after that, Evelyn didn’t see Ethan Dawson again. Two months passed, and the temperature climbed to three degrees above zero. The sun even came out. Evelyn directed everyone to move all the radishes and cabbages from the greenhouses into the root cellar. The temperature had risen quickly during this period, and the silhouettes of mountain tits even appeared in the sky.
The winter mushrooms were long gone, and for some time now, everyone had been eating cassava flour at every meal. When Officer Graham proposed building a cistern, everyone found it strange, but no one asked too many questions.
"Master Ford, now that the temperature is rising, shouldn’t we hurry up and plant the next crop of wheat?"
"We’re not planting wheat. Starting tomorrow, the farm will begin digging a cistern. Half of you will dig the cistern, and the other half will turn over the soil and plant some pumpkins and cabbages. Tilling one acre will be enough."
Although the temperature had only risen to three degrees, the sunlight already felt a bit scorching. The snow on the mountains began to melt, and with the strong winds these past few days, everyone was busy washing their clothes, bedsheets, and duvet covers.
The next day, everyone split into two teams. One team followed Officer Graham to dig the cistern. Since the farm had many people, the cistern needed to be large. It was designed in a gourd shape—narrow at the opening and wide at the base—and would be coated with clay to prevent the stored water from leaking.
When Ethan Dawson came over again, the pumpkin seeds and cabbage starters Evelyn had distributed were already planted in the ground.
He watched everyone digging the cistern, a look of confusion on his face.
"Don’t you have a pond? Why the sudden need to dig a cistern?"
Evelyn didn’t answer his question. "Why are you here again?"
Ethan Dawson chuckled, his beard twitching twice, which made him look rather fierce.
"A few people from my place are planning to leave and find a new life elsewhere. The extreme cold ended so suddenly, and after the cabins on the farm collapsed, no one wants to stay here."
Evelyn wasn’t surprised at all. ’With the temperature rising, many people probably think the disaster is over.’
"They demanded I divide up the food and vehicles we brought back from Mount Lumin."
"Did you?"
He nodded. "They each demanded three hundred and thirty pounds of grain. I gave them thirty-three."
"Then they rebelled. I’ve been dealing with it for the past few days."
Evelyn’s brow twitched. "You mean dealing with the bodies, right? Did you kill them all?"
"Not all of them. I’m not some homicidal maniac. I just dealt with the ones who made exorbitant demands. As for the rest, I let them leave." His expression was nonchalant as he raised a hand to count.
"Including the refugees I took in before, I had a total of fifty or sixty people. But now, only twenty-seven remain."
Taylor Vance once said that Ethan Dawson had killed many people at Tarr Base. Evelyn had always been skeptical about it, but in this moment, she completely believed him.
"It’s for the best. Fewer people means more for those who are left." Ethan Dawson sounded somewhat exasperated. "It’s not like I wouldn’t let them leave. But I never expected them to conspire to kill me. They all forgot I have a gun."
He pulled a small, compact pistol from his pocket.
"That medicine you gave me last time? I wasted it on a bunch of ingrates. Consider this pistol a thank-you gift for it."
Evelyn was speechless. "What am I supposed to do with an empty gun?"
Ethan Dawson smirked. "Master Ford, don’t tell me you don’t have any bullets that fit this gun."
Then, his expression turned serious. "You’re digging a cistern because you’re afraid of a great drought, aren’t you?"
"Just taking precautions. Who knows? Maybe spring will come, flowers will bloom, and we’ll live happily ever after."
Ethan Dawson snorted. "Happily ever after? I doubt it. But are you sure the extreme cold won’t return?"
Evelyn didn’t say anything. Ethan Dawson stood up. "Looks like I should go back and dig a cistern of my own."
The first thing Ethan Dawson did when he got back wasn’t to organize people to dig a cistern. Instead, he gathered the remaining survivors and asked once more if anyone else wanted to leave. This time, he promised to give some grain to those who chose to go.
A few people were indeed tempted. After all, staying here meant working every day. They might as well take advantage of the warming weather to try their luck elsewhere.
In the end, twelve people decided to leave, all of them young men. Ethan Dawson took a look; besides himself, everyone who remained was from the two batches of refugees he had taken in later, mostly women and the elderly.
He distributed the grain, and though some felt it was too little, no one dared to say a word when faced with the gun in Ethan Dawson’s hand. They just took their things and left.
Ethan Dawson looked at those who stayed, his expression softening slightly.
"No one else wants to leave?"
"Good. Including me, there are now sixteen people on the farm. Starting tomorrow, we will dig a cistern."
A female worker couldn’t help but ask curiously, "Mr. Dawson, don’t we have a pond?"
"If the groundwater that feeds the pond dries up, we’ll all die of thirst. The weather is warm now. If we dig for ten days, the cistern should be finished."
"Mr. Dawson, are you worried there’s going to be a drought?"
A glint flashed in Ethan Dawson’s eyes. "That’s right. There’s a drought coming."
The people who remained exchanged glances, beginning to feel fortunate they hadn’t chosen to leave.
Meanwhile, Evelyn Ford and Ronan Kendrick were in the mountains searching for clay. Although Evelyn had plenty of cement and sand in her space, she couldn’t just take it out for everyone to use. They had to use clay as a substitute.
Back in the safe zone, everyone had used earthenware vats to store water. But those vats couldn’t hold much, so it was better to just dig a cistern.
Even though Evelyn had a well in her space, she couldn’t reveal its existence.
"The soil over here is reddish-brown. It should be sticky enough."
Hearing Ronan Kendrick’s voice, Evelyn hurried over.
"It’s clay. You can also use this kind of soil to make pottery."
