Free Humanity Gone: After the Plague by Derek Deremer

we’ll have to take care of first.  We still have a few boxes of those mini-muffins that we had this morning.  There’s a box on the floor that’s full of potatoes, of all things, and a pie tin wrapped in foil sitting on top.  I grabbed it the night before off the counter of the station.  Either the ranger or his wife did some baking before they passed. I hope it is still good.  I peel the foil back and am satisfied that it still seems relatively fresh.
                  I can’t help but smile at the last box that I see.  Everyone has always said that Twinkies would be their food of choice in the event of a world-wide catastrophe.  I guess we will find out exactly how long they last; two ten-count boxes of Twinkies lay on the top shelf of the pantry. Since Hostess even stopped making them, they could be some of the last real Twinkies in the whole country.
                  How in the world did we fit all of this in the car last night?  I don’t remember taking that many trips. Then I realize yesterday was pretty much a blur already.
                  Eventually, this food will run out.  Will we be able to get back to the grocery stores?  No. They’ll be empty or too dangerous.  How long will we have to sustain ourselves here?  How can we possibly be expected to do all of this?
                  “We just have to,” I say out loud.
                  This conclusion feels liberating.  The near panic that I had briefly felt was quickly fading away, like a heavy and cold blanket falling from my shoulders.  Now, my questions have answers, or at least plans to find them.
                  I don’t know how to farm.  How will we grow our food?  Trial and error.  In the spring we will have to try our best. We have a well-pump, plenty of dirt, and plenty of sun.  I start to walk away from the pantry to sit down.  And when should we start hunting?  It’s a long shot, but maybe the stores still have some seeds in them.  Maybe people overlooked them in a panic and went for the more conventional products. 
                  Maybe it will not come to that.  In the back of my mind I hope things will come together in the country. Jon keeps pushing that this will be our lives for a very long time.  Maybe order will be restored with the help of other countries. 
                  I look at the girls.  They seem calm right now.  I think they’re grateful to just have a place to call home again, if even for a little while.  If Jon is right, eventually we will need to be living entirely on what we harvest and what we kill.  When that time comes, we can’t afford to still be learning.
                  We have bullets.  Lots of them.  The ranger’s rifle and shotgun had several boxes of ammunition next to them.  Although it’s a substantial supply, it’s not infinite.  Maybe there’s a population of fish in the river that we can use.  
                  Then it occurs to me, I have no idea what the hell I am rambling about.  Please God don't let this last long out here.
                  “Jocelyn?  I’m hungry,” says Sara, with a half-pout, half-beg on her face.
                  I put on a warm smile for her.  “Don’t worry.  We can take care of that right now and I have a surprise for you tonight when Jon gets back.”  That pie isn’t going to last long.  We might as well celebrate our new home and put some kind of positive spin on this.
                  “Can… can I have some more muffins?”
                  “Don't you want something else?” my mind goes to the few bags of chips we brought from our house.  Don't all kids want junk food? She shakes her head. “Well, of course you can. Did you like those this morning?” We had some simple soup for lunch, but it obviously wasn't holding them over.