Jakarta Pandemic, The by Steven Konkoly

hauled roughly one-third of their firewood into the garage. Two cords of firewood were dumped on their driveway in late August, and with the reluctant help of his son, he’d finished stacking the wood along the outside back wall of the garage by the middle of September.
    Sometimes I wish I was a hard core procrastinator.
    He grabbed another oversized stack of wood and started the grueling trek around the side of the garage. As soon as he cleared the rear corner of the garage, he saw Charles Thornton walking over from his house across the street. He picked up the pace, hoping to disappear into the garage bay before the man arrived.
    Alex had made a practice of tactfully avoiding Charlie Thornton as much as possible. He had learned the hard way that any conversation lasting more than three minutes with Charlie would inevitably shift to the politics of hunting, and the liberal conspiracy to deny his children the right to enjoy a tradition on which this nation was founded.
    He approached the front corner of the garage and looked up at Charlie, who was clearly headed over to talk to him.
    Unavoidable. God damn it.
    Alex entered the garage bay and placed the wood on a neat stack along the outside wall of the garage, furthest away from the mudroom door.
    Two cords are going to jam this garage shut.
    Charles was halfway there, just as Alex emerged from the garage.
    “Hey, Charles, not tromping around the woods today?” Alex asked, wiping his forehead.
    “Shit, I wish. Linda’s still at the office, trying to unscrew the temp situation at National Semi. Three of them walked off the job yesterday, unannounced. I still have no idea why, but if we don’t get some replacements in there by Monday, we could lose our contract with them. We have at least thirty floating around there.
    “Anyway, we heard about the crowds at the stores, so I took off to try and get some grocery shopping done. I started over at Sam’s Club. Forget it. I couldn’t even get close to the place. Same story at Hannigan’s and Shale’s. Did you manage to get to any of these stores today? Linda and I have been so busy at the office that we never made our weekly shopping run. Our house is empty. Looks like we’re eating out tonight.”
    Like every night?
    “Yeah, you and the rest of the town. I couldn’t get near Hannigan’s this morning. Drove by around eleven, and the line was over a mile long just to get into the parking lot. That’s just in one direction. We have enough stuff on hand for now,” Alex said uncomfortably.
    “I heard they closed all of the Hannigan stores in the area. Picked clean by ten. I’m worried about getting my dad’s meds. They should at least keep the pharmacy open at Hannigan’s. All I need are some refills.”
    “You should ask Greg Murray about that. His wife might be able to hook you up. She’s a pharmacist over at the Scarborough Hannigan’s.”
    Sorry, Greg.
    “That’s right. Do you know if they’re home?”
    “Carolyn might be home right now if the store is closed.”
    “I’ll have to check. So why are you stacking your wood inside the garage. Don’t you normally keep it out back?” he asked.
    What dragged you all the way over here, Charlie?
    “Well, ever since we put in the wood-burning stove, we make a lot more trips to get wood. Kate hates going outside to grab the wood, so I figured if it was inside the garage, she’d keep the fire going and quit turning up the thermostat.”
    Outright lie.
    “You gonna move it all inside?” Charlie asked.
    “I don’t think so. We won’t go through two cords this winter. Barely burned through one last year. But who knows what the boss will want,” Alex said.
    “Wives. Give them whatever they want, right? Well, I gotta get back to the house and figure out dinner. Probably need a reservation to get in somewhere tonight. Hey, if I can’t get into a restaurant, you might hear the thunder of one of my rifles. I’ve seen fresh signs of deer in the woods back by the