Arriving at Dan’s place, they pulled the truck and trailer into the workshop, shutting the doors behind it, then set about looking for what they each needed for his own secret project. To Coru, Dan’s workshop was like a post-apocalyptic candy store. If Dan didn’t have it, it must not exist is what crossed Coru’s mind as he wound yard after endless yard of rubber hose around an old industrial wood spool. He already had all the necessary couplings, screws and fasteners. Dan had surprised him with six extra sprinkler heads as a bonus. If he did this right, they would never have to worry about watering the garden and orchard. It would be a set-it and forget-it system.
Dan reappeared with a third water vessel for watering the animals and tossed it onto the trailer with the two others. He’d already tied down 8 huge bags of insulation, and a set of solar panels, an inverter and batteries, all destined for the men’s cabin. Where did he have this stuff stashed? “You done?”
“Almost.” Coru tied off the end of the last hose and strapped the spool securely into the truck bed. “Okay, what’s next.”
Dan’s eyes sparkled. “We dig up the end of my driveway.”
Coru gazed back at him, waiting for more information.
“I have a metal detector belt just under the gravel across my driveway. Whenever metal crosses into my yard, a doorbell chimes inside the house. I’m talking ATV, truck, belt buckle, shot gun, dog tag.”
A smile slowly wreathed Coru’s face. Brilliant. “For the boat launch.”
They each grabbed a shovel, walked to the end of the Thacker farm driveway and set to work. It wasn’t long before they had the belt exposed and rolled up; it had only been set into the ground a few inches. After obscuring evidence of disturbing the ground, they returned to the truck and laid the belt inside the backseat reverently. This little belt might save their lives.
Dan said, “We build your screen, just like you described, only we bury this under it, going to the forest edge on each side. Anyone not fooled by the screen, who still wants to bring in his boat will have to go through it or around it, and that’s when we’ll know they’re there.
“It’ll be a long row to hoe getting the cable all the way to the women’s cabin, but that’s where it needs to be. I’m thinking we’ll mostly be out, or at the main cabin for meals and meetings. We’ll only be in our cabin to sleep, or maybe the odd bad weather day. That means the warning bell will best be heard in the main cabin.”
Coru nodded, then asked, “How much cable do you have?”
Dan gave him the ‘what kind of crazy question is that’ look then broke out in a grin.
“Why not go for broke—wire both cabins—and the barn? We can’t be tied to the cabin.”
Dan’s eyebrows knit together, his eyes dimming as he pictured his stash in his head. Then his eyes cleared and he shrugged. “Could do.” He disappeared into the back of the shop and rustled around for a bit, returning with a huge coil of cable slung over his shoulder that draped to the ground.
Coru was disappointed. This wouldn’t wire it all. “Oh, okay.”
Dan slung the coil into the back of the truck. “There’s lots more where this came from.” He disappeared again, and this time Coru followed. Dan was right. There was more—a lot more. They loaded up the trailer with as much as it would hold, adding in a neat little digger that cut into the sod about two inches down, like a knife, and pulled along a cable or hose as it went, the slice in the earth closing behind it, the ground self-healing, as if nothing had happened. He’d gotten it off a fellow who’d installed irrigation systems in people’s lawns at one time, but had retired from the business. Not only would this speed along the boat launch alarm set up, it would put Coru’s irrigation project over the top. Running the feeder hoses underground and around the perimeter would be so much better than being fastened to the outside fence, where they could be damaged.
“You’re a packrat, you know that, right?” Coru laughed, as they climbed into the truck and prepared to return to D.O.A.
“And aren’t you glad I am?” Dan backed out of the shop carefully, guiding the trailer onto the driveway. Coru hopped out, secured the shop door and got back in. They headed back to D.O.A., eager to begin.
MATTEA AND SEAN secreted their ATVs in the bush and walked the rest of the way up to the farmhouse, their shotguns raised, their eyes scanning the yard, the windows, the outbuildings. This house faced the Alaska Highway and was easily seen, making it dangerous to plunder. Getting caught inside by a group of passing Outlanders was not out of the question. Sean had been in this house before. It was empty, and had provided he and Dan, then later, Jarvis with necessary supplies in the past. That didn’t mean someone else hadn’t discovered the place, or even moved into it. And that would happen, and soon. Summer would be over, the cold would return and survivors would seek shelter.
There was no one here today, they discovered, after they’d scouted the whole area. Once inside, Sean told Mattea someone had been here since he had. The place had been ransacked. That was okay. The pantry boasted eight dozen useful canning jars, a large canning kettle and a pressure canner. This was the real treasure of the gutted pantry, not the packaged foods that had filled the shelves and were gone. With the canning equipment, Catherine could put up enough food for them all this winter. Mattea pulled the oven racks from the stove, discovered a second kitchen downstairs and did the same with that oven—six racks! Score. Sean and Mattea grinned like little kids at their finds, and quickly boxed everything up and tied it into their ATVs. Mission accomplished.
“Let’s go back one more time for a good look around,” Sean said. “We’ve got lots of time.
Mattea nodded in agreement and they returned to the house, searching each room for valuables. They were mostly torn apart, furnishings thrown about, closets emptied, clothes strewn. Mattea bent to pick up a pair of jeans. “This is all kid’s stuff. Would this fit one of the kids?”
Sean studied the jeans, mystified. “I don’t know. I don’t know from kid’s clothes.”
Mattea looked at him with exasperation. “You were a kid once. Come on. The kids need stuff too. They’re kids.”
“You’re right. Let’s gather up these kid’s things and let them sort through it themselves. If they’re not useful, they can be rags.”
“Some toys, too. We’ll fill these pillow cases.” Mattea picked up a pillow to strip off the pillow case and stopped, his gaze riveted to the bunkbeds before him. “Sean! We’re idiots. Look at what’s right in front of us.”
Sean looked up from stacking clear plastic bins of toys. “What?”
“The bed! It’s a bunk bed. This could go up in the loft for Malcolm and Wyatt. They’d have more room to play up there this winter and we’d have two full sized beds for the men’s cabin. It’s perfect.”
Sean stood up and gazed at the bunkbed with him. “How do we get it back?”
“We take it apart. Mattresses strapped across the tops of the ATVs.”
“Let’s do ‘er.”
They labored for hours over the bunk bed, being careful not to damage it as they worked. They topped the ATV’s roofs with the mattresses. The ATVs looked comical. Before they left, they found a stack of new, clean potato sacks, and six empty plastic bins which they threw into the last empty space, Mattea’s passengers seat, then started back down the trail, top heavy with the mattresses, teetering like teapots, excited to get back to surprise the children.
NICOLA AND JARVIS sat astride their mounts, still under cover of the forest and considered the two fields they had to cross, one on this side of Drury Road, the other on the far side. They’d have to be out in the open to get close to the mule. The animal was still there, but was straining through the barbed wire fencing to reach grass outside of his field which was now only stubble. They could see a limited ring of eaten grasses encircling the animal’s fenced prison, evidence he had reached through wherever he could to find food. Surely this meant no human was about. This would be more a rescue mission than a capture.
Nicola looked at Jarvis. “Should we risk it?”
“You want the mule?”
“You know I do. It’s either that mule, or standing guard over our animals. There’s no way we can fence them in. That mule’s invaluable. Plus, he’ll starve otherwise, and we can’t have that.”
Jarvis nodded. “Then we risk it.”
They nudged their rides out into the open, and walked slowly across the fields toward the road, the only sound the creaking of their leather saddles and the plodding of the horse’s hooves. Jarvis had his rifle at the ready and scanned the area again and again. He said, “I’ve never come up this far, not since I joined up with Sean and Dan.”
“Then let’s be quick about it. We’re out in plain sight, now.” Nicola nudged her horse to a trot and Jarvis followed. Quickly, they crossed the gravel road, which already showed signs of mother nature’s influence. Scrubby weeds had taken hold and were growing amongst the rocks. It crossed Nicola’s mind that maybe man’s time here on earth was closing, and the earth would now heal from the scarring she’d taken over the years at the hands of men.
Arriving at the barbed wire fence, Jarvis slipped off his horse, produced wire cutters and snipped the wires. Nicola held them so they wouldn’t snap back and possibly injure them, then eased them to the ground. The mule was already approaching them, showing no fear. Nicola was glad to see it wore a halter. She untied the feed bag from the back of her saddle and approached the animal cautiously, speaking softly and digging into the bag as she approached. She offered the mule some oats. He surged forward and gobbled the oats. “There you go,” she laughed, a little frightened by his eagerness and strength. Good thing mules weren’t meat-eaters!
Yes, he was thin, but he was still reasonably healthy. He’d had the good fortune of a little creek trickling through his enclosure. Without it, he’d have surely died. Not prepared to risk her fingers a second time, she spilled the oats onto the ground before the animal. Her horse moved to partake. She let him, watching to see how the mule reacted. The mule wasn’t aggressive, but he did insist that these oats were his, thank you very much. Her horse snorted and lifted his head, pricking his ears forward. Something up near the house had caught his attention. The telling thing was the mule did not react. Nicola shaded her eyes and squinted against the sun, searching for what had caught her horse’s attention.
“There’s something up there,” she murmured to Jarvis. Turning she saw he was gone, already moving along the far fence line, crouched down as he ran, his rifle trained before him. She clipped the willing mule to a leather lead and wound it to the horn of her saddle, then led the three animals to a nearby stand of trees — not your best cover, but the trees did afford some screening. She tied them off on a tree branch, pulled her shotgun free from its case and ran after Jarvis, running low.
19
THE KEY
Standing inside the stinking old cabin with the rest of the cleanup crew, Wren knew Coru was right. They wouldn’t be working on the cabin, not in this state. The place was literally carpeted with dead bugs and mouse feces. Jarvis opening the windows had only illuminated the problem. She wouldn’t put a dog in here, much less the men. She glanced back out the door at Hero and Ol’ Henry, who had the good sense to stay outside. Smart dogs.
Her stomach churned, threatening the breakfast Catherine had put together this morning. Warm oatmeal drizzled with Deklin’s rich, dark honey and cool goat’s milk, fresh baked biscuits smothered in more honey, with hot coffee sweetened with yet more of Deklin’s honey and glasses of goat’s milk for the children. A feast.
Catherine had called everyone in from their morning chores to the makeshift plank table on the front deck of the cabin and said, “Today’s breakfast is brought to you by Deklin Beczik.” They’d all applauded and he’d beamed with pride.
But back to the old cabin. They needed to mask up and they needed disinfectant. She was so grateful Dan had survived and made his way back into her life, and not just because he practically had a general store up in his workshop. She’d known Dan was a bit of a hoarder in the real world …
She stopped, examining her label ‘real world’. What should they be calling the ‘before and after the virus’ worlds? BV and AV? They weren’t living in a fake world now, though she’d wished often enough that it was only a terrible dream. This new world was real enough. Old and New? She shuddered at accepting this reality as shiny and new. It felt like the old version of life, a re-run of old methods, old ideas, old fears of the other.
Yet, here Dan stood, smiling, planning with them, his view of life ever hopeful. Where did he get the will, the energy?
She risked a peek into his head, just a little. “…dig up the pressure belt from the entrance of the driveway … A picture of the end of his driveway, measured off in yards. Jury-rig enough line to make it to the women’s cabin. It’s a long way, but there’s someone in there all the time. A picture of a strange little machine cutting sod across the meadow between the two cabins. It’d be closer to wire to this cabin, but it’s unlikely we’ll be there except to sleep most days …so, ineffectual. God, Mona. This was your idea in the first place. A picture of Mona, sick herself after caring for her sick neighbors. Dan was still bewildered why he didn’t get sick, while Mona, always healthy and a bundle of cheerful energy had succumbed. Why her and not me? I miss you so much, woman … a wave of profound loneliness washed across his thoughts.
She slammed up her shield and turned away, blinking back the need to cry. Dan’s ceaseless cheeriness covered a black hole where Mona had been in his heart. She’d gone so quickly. He’d buried her in her beloved flower garden.
“I’m off to work on the animal stalls in the barn,” she murmured and set off across the field. No one noticed her sudden change in mood—they were all busy rethinking their days, figuring how to make the most of every hour. She’d be wise to do the same.
She passed the goats, who were tethered in the smaller meadow between the two cabins, munching on weeds and thistles and keeping ‘the lawn’ tidy. It was a great solution. No mowing needed when you had goats.
She stopped at the cabin, saw school wasn’t finished yet — Sandy was a task-master when it came to school — then veered off toward the barn. Wren loved the barn. It was protected, and dry, and smelled sweet of the hay and straw the men had hauled down from Dan’s place over the last few days. They’d stacked the bails neatly along the back wall, and on the left side, from floor to ceiling, leaving the right side open for the bails of alfalfa they hoped to take off the field this fall. There was no work to do in here—she’d fibbed about that. What she really wanted was to play with the kittens. Not everything was about survival. Sometimes it was about cuddling kittens.
She made her way to the farthest stall and found them there, tumbling together, stalking and springing at made-up prey. Miss Mew watched over them with her eyes half shut, dozing in the clean straw. Wren opened the door and eased into the stall. “Hi little darlins.” They all tumbled across the uneven straw toward her. She sank to her knees, then lay beside them, letting them climb over her, stand on her hip, her thigh, then tumble off and climb up again. Inkspot, the white kitten with the black-tipped tail was pulling at her hair, getting it all tangled. She rolled over, careful not to crush her, laughing as she untangled the kitten’s paws.
“Hey, you,” she murmured, snuggling Inkspot’s velvety warm body against her cheek, then rolled onto her back, tucking the puffball under her chin. Staring up at the barn rafters, she opened her shield and stretched out her inquiry. She could easily read the minds in the cabin from here, which was good news. She’d been practicing, ever since she’d been hooked by Coru’s stray mental pleading from miles away. The experience—beyond being bizarre, had taught her she could pick up thoughts from far away. She’d been stretching her ability ever since. Their safety just might depend upon her hearing danger from afar, giving them enough time to prepare, or even, to escape.
But today, she felt so t
ired. To the cabin was good enough.
Now to see if she could separate each person’s thoughts from the wave of mental voices coming her way. Bill was easy; he was her rock—easy to locate, anywhere. Bill was going over Wyatt’s diagram of the human circulatory system with him. Wyatt was crazy smart and wanted to be a doctor one day. Poor kid went from hopeful to crushed and back about his chances in this new world. Catherine was worrying about Bill, and trying to keep her thoughts to herself. She knew he was hiding his condition from everyone, putting on a brave face. How long could he manage without his medications? She made herself stop, made herself think about lunch. Would the men be back in time? Not likely — they were like a bunch of kids, striking out on an adventure. She laughed inside her head; she so loved to see the people around her happy. It was such a blessing; this whole place was a blessing. Thank God for Wren. When she’d first glimpsed this cabin, her heart had almost stopped inside her chest with gratitude. She’d known that instant she could make this work. She looked over at Bill with affection, then returned to the task at hand. Should she make extra sandwiches and set them aside for the men...?
Wren switched to another mind. This was Sandy, leaning over Deklin’s shiny blond head. Sandy had a warm spot for this gentle boy and was amazed at his artwork. She was looking at a drawing he’d done of the homestead, surrounded by floating numbers, each carefully printed out in different colors. Numbers were everywhere in the picture, almost blotting out the buildings, fenced garden and animal partitions, the winding river and surrounding forest. Wren dipped into what she guessed was Deklin. This was the brain adoring the floating numbers, like they were his most beloved off-spring, released into the world to do good. Deklin truly adored numbers; his world was filled with them. The distance, in yards, between the chicken run and the goat run – 0, they were next to one another, silly! Deklin laughed at his little joke. The height of the barn – 33 feet, the number of bales of hay and straw they’d stacked in the barn – 108 hay; 86 straw, the number of eggs he’d gathered this morning - 9, the number of Catherine’s really yummy egg sandwiches he wanted for lunch today - 2, the number of seconds he washed his hands before eating - 17 (He sang happy birthday in his head when he did, just as his Mamma taught him).
Lost Sentinel: Post-Apocalyptic Time Travel Adventure (Earth Survives Series Book 1) Page 21