Where's the Zima?

It’s New Year’s Eve and we’ve got to be ready for the turn of the century. The double zero year is going to cause a worldwide crash in technology like we’ve never seen before. What were we thinking building our whole world on the backs of computers? I read that article in the TIMES and I just knew in my bones this is going to be the end, like the Viking outpost that vanished in Greenland. No one knows what happened to them and in a millennia if we still have archeologists they might be just as baffled when they find all of our remains. At midnight the 1s and 0s will have their rumble and civilization is gonna take a tumble. But not on my watch! It’s my job to make sure me and my folks will survive.

I unload the last supplies from my Ford F-150 and slam the tailgate closed, making my Mom jump a mile high. The wicked Montana wind tries its best to leech all of my warmth away, sneaking in through the gaps in my coat zipper, whirling around my arms, probing for any vulnerabilities. It reminds me of the pickpockets on the subways. I’m a long way from that life and my fancy job in New York City. I’d finally made it to assistant to the assistant photographer which meant I was in charge of the snack table on photo shoot days.

I inhale deeply, enjoying the natural pine scent, cold and crisp, as the cold freezes the snot in my nose. Nothing like the stale coffee and sweat smell from the job I’d left. Worth it! Mom holds the door open to the Box Fort, at least that’s what I call it. The heated pole barn in our backyard is filled with essentials that would last us up to two years, maybe longer if we’re careful.

“I got the last of the drinking water, and a surprise for you,” I said as I smiled at Mom.

We walk past the aisles that I’ve named. That one is the ‘Sparky’ aisle for electronics, the ‘beast of life’ aka the generator, and the aisle of ‘yucky feelies’ aka medicine. My Nike Air Max sneakers squeak with each step on the concrete floor as we meander towards the food aisle aka ‘Pantry Palace’. I watch her put the items on the shelf as I try to keep a straight face, wondering when she will find the surprise.

She finally pulls it out, completely confused, then looks at me and starts laughing.

“A beanie baby? Really? I haven’t seen one of these in a while!” She doubles over laughing. A tiny little tie-dye bear with a peace sign over its heart stares up at us blankly.

“People go crazy over these things. The front seat is full of them. I figure we can use it as collateral when the currency crashes. Paper money will just be used to start fires after a while. Maybe we’ll trade in beanie babies.”

By now tears are streaming down both of our faces as I prop the beanie baby up, leaning against the frosted strawberry pop tarts with sprinkles. They’re both colorful, it goes together. The truth is I’m not much for organizing. I just know where everything is because I put it there. That creepy little bear stares at us as we walk away. I’m already regretting my decision to buy a whole bag of those little beanie babies with their watchful eyes. They said they were collectibles. Ha! All we’ll be collecting are the nuts and berries we need to survive. 

I open the Box Fort door for Mom, making sure she walks in front of me as we head back to the house through the snow, to keep her safe. The stars are so clear out here in the middle of nowhere. An owl hoots and I scan the treeline for bears. I’ve never seen one but that doesn’t mean I’m ready to be its dinner. Mom looks around intensely as if she is aware of the dangers of the wild and glances back at me a few times too. Good, I don’t want to lose my only mother. You’ve got to do what you can for your loved ones—save them at all costs. At least, that is what my Dad always says. The front door banged closed and we peeled off the layers of coats and boots that are required for bitter cold winters. 

I grab fish sticks for me and two microwave meals for Mom and Dad. The gameboy is on the kitchen counter begging for me to beat my high score on the new baseball game but I ignore it as I get dinner ready. It used to be my little brother’s but I found it under the couch last week so it’s mine now. I glance at the mantle to make sure my Glamour Shot is still on full display. That day at the mall was what inspired me to move to New York to see if I could land a gig as a professional photographer. It was a magical mall moment!

While the food is cooking I reflect on the past year. It’s New Year’s Eve, a time for reflection. I’ve accomplished a lot this year. Leaving my stressful job in New York, stocking a pole barn with supplies, getting my parents out here, and learning about surviving on our own. I just wish Dad could appreciate all that I’ve done to get us ready. 

The microwave dings jolting me back to the present. I placed one meal on a tray for Dad and added a White Claw because I couldn’t find any Zima at the store. I thought that was strange and told the cashier that it must be out of stock and that they needed to order more. It must be a leftover habit from the assistant to the assistant photography job.

Since I’m always in charge of food, I take the food tray downstairs to the walkout finished basement, which is complete with a ping pong table and a bedroom. I sigh with relief. Dad is still here.

“Just a few more hours until Y2K! But don’t worry, we’re all stocked up,” I say as I put his dinner tray on his lap.

I can’t understand his muffled response, so I remove the gag.

“This is crazy, Jessica! Y2K was 25 years ago!”

I feed him his dinner and replace the gag. He’ll see. We’ll live through the turn of the century, and all of this prep will have been worth it. You’ve got to do what you can for your loved ones—save them at all costs.