After The Virus (Book 2): Homesteading

by Archer, Simon

  “Okay,” I said. “You kids have fun. Just be careful.”

  Tommy ran off for the four-wheeler, but I caught Virgil’s eye. “Really, be careful, Virgil,” I said to him. “If you see anybody around that you don’t know, head straight back here, and let one of the adults know, okay?”

  The teenager nodded. Maybe he’d been trained by his mom to follow orders from friendly adults without question. I hoped that was the case, and he wasn’t just ignoring me.

  For the next couple of days, it continued to rain. We still had to care for the animals, and I had Jackie start walking the newbies through what had to be done. Meanwhile, I took Penny on a shopping trip to assemble whatever she might need to set up cameras and whatnot around the property.

  “Where do you want to start?” I asked as we turned onto the road.

  “Office supply,” she replied, watching the waterlogged, green world go by. “Then Best Buy, I guess.”

  I nodded and drove. “I’m thinking about getting a few more drones while we’re out. Can you help?”

  That perked her up from whatever teenage doldrums had caught her. “Yes!” she exclaimed.

  “You’re going to have to show me and anyone else how to set them up and fly them, too. This and the cameras are your things.”

  “What sorts of cameras do you want?” Penny asked.

  “I was thinking trail cameras,” I said. “Sturdy ones.”

  “But you want to watch for people too, right?” She wanted to know.

  The kid was sharp. I nodded. “Unfortunately, yeah,” I told her.

  “People know to look for cameras,” she said. “Animals don’t. You put up a big, clunky trail camera, and a person will see it a mile away.”

  “That might be exaggerating,” I protested. “Those things can be camouflaged really well, and some of the folks around here used them to watch for trespassers during hunting season.”

  “Maybe so,” Penny said, fidgeting in the passenger seat. “But hunters aren’t the kind of people who drive hummers with machineguns, are they?”

  “You didn’t know some of the people around here,” I said, chuckling. “Folks love their guns out here.”

  “You, too, apparently,” she countered. “Do I get one?”

  “If your grandpa doesn’t mind.”

  “He was going to teach me to shoot, but my parents didn’t want me to learn,” she explained. “They said I didn’t need to know.”

  “If it were up to me, everyone would know,” I said.

  A few hours later, we returned triumphantly to the homestead with a haul of electronics that would have made Bill Gates envious. Well, maybe not, but it was significant. The cab of the truck was full to the brim. Fortunately, most of the boxes were small, aside from the drones.

  Jackie, though, was there to meet me with a whole new problem as soon as we got back.

  “Henry,” she said quietly. “It’s Goldeneye.”

  “Give me a minute,” I said, then collected Bill, Susan, and Angie to help get everything from the truck inside.

  “Where are Estelle and Gwen?” I asked.

  “They’re already up at the Roberts’ place,” Jackie told me. “I asked them to take a look at him, first, but they aren’t vets so…”

  “It’s okay,” I said and put an arm warmly around her. “Come on, and let’s see what’s up.”

  We hurried up to the other farmhouse and entered the garage. It smelled of animal musk and canned meat. Estelle sat cross-legged, looking into the cage and a thoroughly listless coywolf. His ears didn’t even perk as Jackie and I entered.

  “Hey, Henry,” Gwen said. “I’m not sure my expertise covers this.”

  Jackie looked plaintively at her and then went to kneel down beside Estelle.

  “So, what happened?” I asked.

  “He stopped eating yesterday,” Jackie said. “I tried to get him to eat canned food as a treat instead of his kibble, but he wouldn’t.”

  I folded my arms and gazed down at the coywolf. Just a few days ago, he’d broken out of his cage, raided the garbage, and then sprawled on one of the beds. Had he gotten into something else in the garbage?

  Golden eyes rolled to regard me, and I could have sworn he winked at me.

  “Jackie,” I said. “Last time you checked him, how were his wounds?”

  “He seemed fine,” she replied. “Just a little scarring, and he wasn’t limping, either.”

  “I thought so,” I said, smiling faintly. “Let’s get everyone inside and put the dogs up.”

  “Why?” Estelle asked.

  “It’s time to let him go,” I replied.

  Jackie looked up at me, surprise written on her features. “Are you serious?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I replied. “Look at him. His eyes are shiny, and his fur is gorgeous. The bastard isn’t sick. He’s faking it so that we’ll let him go.”

  The young woman froze and turned slowly to study the coywolf. His eyes met hers, and he huffed softly, then got up to his feet. He stretched, yawned, then gave me a look before sitting down and regarding her with a serious canine expression.

  “You asshole!” she exclaimed.

  Goldeneye opened his jaws in a coyote grin and let his tongue loll out. He’d played her for a sucker, despite her talent with animals. He was smart, very smart. I almost hoped he’d stick around.

  Then Jackie opened the cage and reached in before any of us could do anything, but we needn’t have worried. The coywolf sat quietly while she undid his cone, then patiently let her hug him. After a moment, he gave a low growl, as if to say, “Enough.”

  “He won’t mess with anyone,” Jackie said, pulling back. “Although he might try to trick the dogs.”

  “I wish they could get along,” I said, then shrugged. “Okay, then, if you think so.”

  Estelle got up and went over to wait with Gwen while Jackie stood and walked over to the garage door. Goldeneye went with her and sat on his haunches while she hefted it up.

  He trotted out and paused to sniff the air, standing in the middle of the driveway. Then he lifted his head, let out a wolfish howl that trailed off into a series of coyote yips. As the dogs down at the other house started barking, he lifted his leg on a nearby fencepost, then took off, not in the direction of the woods, but westerly, heading away from the Roberts’ house.

  “Well,” Gene mused from the porch, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”

  For the next couple of days, Jackie moped around, staying outside until near midnight just to listen for the distinctive howl of the golden-eyed coywolf. Truth be told, I missed the big, brown ball of mischief, myself, and I joined her vigils. The days were spent helping Penny place cameras and wifi extenders, which meant carefully running power cables. She’d actually taken a drone picture of the property from overhead and doodled out the best positioning.

  Coverage didn’t extend out nearly as far as I would have liked, but we had eyes on almost every corner of the property by the time we were done. Battery-powered motion sensors filled in the gaps.

  Angie, Estelle, Gwen, Jackie, and I relaxed on the porch as the night wore on towards midnight. Tommy and Irene had gone to bed. Virgil was up at the Roberts’ place with Penny. Apparently, they finally had a meeting of the minds, and he’d stopped avoiding her.

  Honestly, I just hoped they wouldn’t have a big, public blow up if they ever decided to fight.

  Gene stayed up late, so he probably played chaperone.

  Damn, that reminded me that I still needed to talk to Virgil and see if he had been through that particular rite of passage. He probably had, but with his religious background, it might not have been complete.

  We all just sat around, enjoying one another’s company, along with a few beers and some cider. It was a clear night, promising that the next day would be a nice one.

  All of a sudden, a distant, long wolfish howl rang out, and Jackie perked up immediately, bouncing out of her chair as the dogs started barking.
The howl trailed off into distinctive yipping. Goldeneye was still with us.

  We exchanged smiles and hugs all around. Life was good.

  That was when I remembered the cabin.

  “So,” I said, breaking the silence, “would anyone like to go on a little expedition with me tomorrow?”

  “Isn’t tomorrow trash day?” Angie asked.

  I paused for a moment. It had been about a week, so yeah, it was. I nodded. We took care of compost every day, but some trash we couldn’t compost or burn, and that went into bags that we hauled down to the Lee County dump.

  “After that,” I said. “We can make the garbage run first thing in the morning. How about you help me load up tonight?”

  “Aww, dammit,” Angie complained.

  “I’ll help,” Gwen volunteered.

  “Me, too,” said Jackie.

  “I’m going to sit right here and watch,” Estelle announced. “I had to deal with baby diarrhea during dinner. I’m done with anything that smells.”

  We all laughed at that. Angie sighed and levered herself up. She’d been drinking heavier than the rest of us, which wasn’t that much of a surprise, since the Marine loved her alcohol.

  Fortunately, the folks at the other house put their bagged-up garbage out for “pickup,” which usually meant me and someone else. Susan had taken to organizing that particular element of life, while Bill, Virgil, or Angie usually helped me haul it to the dump.

  In no time, we had the bed of my truck loaded. The raccoons were out, but they wouldn’t get too close to the truck, not after the dogs had killed a particularly bold specimen that got too close.

  Gwen remained up at the Roberts’, surprising Penny and Virgil, where they sat together on the front porch swing. A light was on the inside which meant Gene was nearby but out of the way.

  Angie and Estelle retired almost immediately upon completion of the task of loading the truck, which left Jackie and me sitting on the porch again.

  “Time has really gone by fast,” she said quietly.

  “Too fast, maybe,” I agreed, leaning back in my chair with a soft creak. “I mean, you did get to show me that anime you liked.”

  “You liked it too,” she said, smiling over at me in the near darkness.

  “I did,” I said, then laughed as I tried to quote, “United... States... of… Smash!”

  “Face it, Henry,” she said, giggling. “You’re a geek, too.”

  “I never said I wasn’t,” I protested, laughing a bit more.

  “Think things will settle down?” she asked after we’d both calmed down a bit.

  “I hope so,” I replied. “I’m not sure I can keep up this pace forever.”

  “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “Same here. You know what?”

  “What?”

  “You never did actually recruit people for your expedition,” she replied.

  “Well,” I said slowly. “Damn.”

  “I’ll go,” she replied. “I haven’t gotten to go out with you for a while, not since Goldeneye.”

  “That’s only been a couple of weeks, right?” I tried to count the days, but they got away from me.

  “Something like that,” she said. “Wow. Still. I want to go.”

  “That’s fine by me,” I said. “Gene and I noticed what might have been smoke at the little hunting lodge the other day. It almost slipped my mind since he thought it was just the mist.”

  “This was while you were up in the helicopter, right?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “It’s about five or six miles from here as the crow flies. It might be something, or it might be nothing. Make sure you bring your shotgun, or maybe that hunting rifle of yours.”

  “Sure,” she said. “What are you bringing?”

  “My AR-15,” I replied. “I’m really not sure what to expect if anything.”

  35

  I rolled the Silverado off-road and parked beside the dirt track leading into the woods and the local hunting lodge. From here, it was about a mile’s walk to the clearing. Overhead, a clear sky beckoned, and I checked my watch as we got out: 0800 almost on the dot.

  “What’s the story here?” Jackie asked, walking over to me, her scoped .308 hunting rifle slung over her right shoulder.

  “The place?” I asked.

  She nodded and turned to gaze down the rough-cut dirt road that vanished out of sight between trees, maybe a hundred feet from the road.

  “This is where a bunch of locals decided they wanted their own little base camp to hunt deer and other critters,” I replied. “They also wanted to establish an area of private property to bypass some of the laws. It worked, too. This place has been here longer than I’ve been alive.”

  “Nice,” Jackie observed. “Pretty clever, too.”

  “Anyway,” I continued as I slung my own AR-15. “I’ve been meaning to sort of reclaim the place for us. It’s got an outbuilding for processing, and they used to have a little generator. The bathroom’s just a hole in the ground, though.”

  “How far is it?”

  “About a mile,” I replied. “If we walk, we’re more likely to see anything out of the ordinary, and we’ll be less likely to be noticed.”

  “Got it,” she said and shot me a nervous look. “If you’re expecting a fight, maybe I shouldn’t have come along.”

  “I’m not expecting one,” I said reassuringly. “I just want to be ready for one. Virgil’s kind of an unknown, but I’ve been hunting with you.”

  “Angie’s the one with actual training, though.”

  “Hey,” I said with a smile. “You wanted to come.”

  Jackie took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “Right.”

  I nodded, feeling a wash of pride as we set off down the track. Our booted feet made little noise on the fallen leaves. Undergrowth had narrowed the way a bit, but the various, rusting, “No Trespassing” signs marked the way pretty clearly.

  We didn’t move fast. That wasn’t the idea of this little jaunt. I wanted to see if there were any signs of visitors. The recent rain helped, and we found what we were looking for quite quickly.

  “Well, that’s that, I suppose,” I said, pulling up short before we reached the first bend.

  “New tracks,” Jackie observed quietly.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Large vehicle, too.” I walked over and crouched down by the distinctive rut in the mud of the narrow road. “Either a truck or…” My voice trailed off. Humvees had tires that wide.

  “Jackie,” I said quietly. “Check the sides of the road for broken branches and such.”

  She nodded and padded over to examine both sides of the narrow, dirt road. After a few minutes, she looked over at me and nodded. “Looks like something big did come through. There’s even a smushed bush.”

  I sighed and stood, knees creaking a bit.

  “Let’s be extra careful, then,” I said quietly as I settled my rifle into a new position. This was a more ready hold with the barrel pointing groundward, so I could bring it up smoothly to fire if I needed to.

  Jackie just nodded and mimicked me, adjusting her own carry as we started on down the trail once more. At the second bend, I paused and held up a hand to stop. If memory served, there were motion sensors and a game camera monitoring the trail ahead. They weren’t too hard to bypass, but we did need to be aware of them.

  “We cut through the woods now,” I said. “Follow me.”

  “What’s up?” she asked as I turned off the trail.

  “The folks that maintained this place had a camera and motion sensors on the latter half or three-quarters of the entryway,” I replied. “I’m not counting on it being inoperable.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  Where I was experienced and quiet in the woods, Jackie was a ghost. I could barely hear her footsteps behind me, even through the dead leaves and pine needles carpeting the forest floor. We carried on like this for about fifteen more minutes, not speaking, with all of our senses reaching out for any sign of dange
r.

  Finally, we paused on the edge of the clearing where the lodge stood. Of course, calling it a lodge was probably being more than generous. The actual building was a single-story log cabin about the size of a large shed. A steel shed squatted nearby, which was where enterprising hunters could go ahead and hang their kills to drain. Another shed housed the generator for the place, and an outhouse sat adjacent to the cabin, its door gaping open.

  “Rustic,” Jackie whispered in my ear, and I almost broke the silence by laughing.

  Nothing moved. I put my left index finger to my lips and shot her a glare that probably lost something because of the smile on my face. She nodded and smiled back. Then I turned ninety degrees and began a careful circle of the clearing itself.

  About an hour later, we reached the little entry trail, having made a full examination of the place from the cover of the woods. There was no sign of anyone, although tire tracks cut an obvious path from the dirt road to the middle of the clearing in front of the cabin, then a trenched circle that led back to the road.

  Whoever they were, they’d driven in, made a circle, and left. Of course, that didn’t mean they weren’t still here.

  There was nothing for it. We actually had to scout the buildings. I shifted my grip on the AR-15 and walked out into the open, half-expected to get shot at.

  Nothing.

  Once I was about twenty feet in, I motioned to Jackie, and we slowly made our way to the cabin. The door was a little bit ajar, with the deadbolt lock missing. It looked as if someone had chiseled it out.

  Jackie stayed right on me, her eyes wide and her slim body tense. I backed off a bit. Something felt wrong about the slightly open, inviting doorway. The two sheds were padlocked once, but those had been cut off and lay on the ground nearby their respective doors.

  “Are we not looking inside?” Jackie whispered.

  “Call me paranoid,” I replied, “but something doesn’t feel right.”

  She just nodded. We both had learned to trust our hunches in the past few months, especially after our experience with Hunter. Instead of pushing the door open into the cabin, we edged around it to the back. There were small, high windows cut into the component logs at about eight or nine feet high. Since the place was a single room, maybe, just maybe, we’d be able to get a glimpse of the interior from one of them.