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Home Coming (The Survivalist Book 10)

Page 13

by A. American


  Dave’s eyes got wide and he looked at Janet. She smiled and said, “Yes, Dad. I’ll make biscuits and gravy.”

  “Morgan, that really says something about you. You didn’t need to do that. But the fact you did really speaks volumes about your character. I see us becoming very good friends,” he said with a smile. “I tell you what I’ll do. Let’s have us a cookout. Bring your folks over here and I’ll put on a feed. We’ll grill up a bunch of steaks for everyone.”

  “Now that sounds awesome. But make some burgers too. I’ve got some youngins as well. We’ll make buns for them. I’ll also bring some sausages.”

  Laughing, Dave replied, “You’re just full of surprises! How many folks you got?”

  “Figure about twenty-five, give or take.”

  “You got that many folks you’ve been feeding all this time? How the hell have you done it?”

  “Ain’t been easy. But we’ve managed. They’re all really good people. Salt of the earth and I trust them with my life, literally.”

  “Give me a couple of days and we’ll bring the beeves over. Then we’ll have us a hell of a cookout.”

  “You need any security for the delivery? I can provide that if you need.”

  Dave smiled. “Naw. My boys can handle that. Janet will take care of everything.”

  I told Janet how to get to our place and we shook hands again before I dumped the hat full of grapes I’d been holding the whole time into the saddlebag and mounted the Harley. It started right up fortunately and as the loud pipes rumbled, Dave laughed. I waved and headed home. This was an amazing development and I wanted to let the old man know about it.

  As I approached the market in Altoona, I thought about stopping for some butter. But decided not to. Looking at the market as I passed it, I saw two off-road Endura-style bikes there. They stuck out because I hadn’t seen anything like it in a long time, that and I just happened to be riding a motorcycle as well.

  Making it back to the neighborhood, I rolled to a stop at the bunker. One of the Guardsmen, Stinness, was waving me down. I rolled to a stop and he asked, “What is this? National ride your motorcycle day?”

  I glanced down at the Harley and replied, “Just taking it out to blow the dust and cobwebs off it.”

  “You’re not the only one. Saw a couple others a little while ago,” Stinness replied. Then he pointed towards the country road and said, “See, there they are.”

  I looked back over my shoulder to see the two bikes I’d seen at the market sitting in the road. The riders looked as though they were discussing something, then they sped away to the north.

  “That’s weird,” I replied. “I haven’t seen anything moving in a long time and today there just happens to be three motorcycles out on the road.”

  “I thought it was odd too. Even more so because they stopped down there and looked in.”

  “Yeah, we need to keep a careful eye out for a while. That just seems odd.”

  I said goodbye and rode over to the old man’s place. I shut the bike down in the driveway of his house. And walked to the one next door where all the weapons we’d looted from the Russian’s were being carried in.

  “All that going to fit in there?” I asked.

  Sarge looked up from a clipboard he was making notes on and replied, “Yeah, it’s gonna fit. But it’s gonna be crowded.”

  “At least we won’t have to worry about weapons or ammo. For like, ever.”

  “Naw. We should be pretty well set. If you don’t mind using commie guns,” Sarge replied and looked over at the bike. “What in the hell are you doing out riding around on that thing?”

  “I just took it out to blow the carbon out of it. No sense in just letting it sit there and rot away.”

  “About as useless as a piece of shit. You can’t carry a damn thing on it.”

  Pointing at the bike, I replied, “Actually, those saddlebags are full of grapes. I found a vine that was heavy with fruit and picked a load of them. We’ll turn them into juice for jelly and whatnot. I’m sure Miss Kay will have a use for them.”

  “There’s no doubt she’ll find something to do with them.”

  “A couple other things. First, I saw two bikes at the market in Altoona. Stinness told me he saw them ride by earlier and while we were talking, they stopped at the end of the road down there. And I don’t think they were admiring the Harley.”

  Sarge thought about it for a minute, then asked, “Who do you think they are?”

  “Same ones you’re thinking of. Some guys with a deuce and a half and bunch of motorcycles.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. We need to set up an OP out there closer to the road.”

  “I don’t think they’ll just ride up to the entry there and come down in here. Needs to be someplace where they can see down the road.”

  The old man snorted, “Leave the army shit to me. I’m going to put a couple of guys in one of the burned-out trucks over there. They’ll be able to see all the way down the road and give us a heads up if they head this way and dip off into the woods.”

  “Ok, good. Next thing, in a day or so, a truck is coming here to deliver two pregnant cows.”

  Sarge’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “What? Cows? How in the hell did you pull that off? Who the hell has cows?”

  I told him the story of how I found the cows and about meeting Dave and his daughter. I explained the deal I’d worked out and about the cookout we were invited to. When I finished, he stood there and pondered it all for a moment, which I found fascinating. The old man was usually quick with a comeback, but sometimes he’d a take a minute to work up the proper response.

  “Well shit. Sounds like a hell of deal to me. We’ve got several thousand gallons of diesel still, so that’s no problem. And from what I’ve seen in that pig pen, trading four shouldn’t be an issue either. Plus, I’d like to meet Dave. Who knows what else we might be able to work together on.”

  “Exactly! He was a little standoffish when I first started talking to him. But he warmed up pretty quick. I think his daughter Janet pretty much runs the show now. She’s the one bringing the cows over.”

  “Alright. I’ll let the guys at the bunker know to keep an eye out for a truck pulling a stock trailer. Some beef would be good.”

  I laughed, “We ain’t butchering these cows. Both of them will need to drop a calf and get it weened.”

  “I know that, dipshit! But after they’ve both calved, then we can butcher one of them.”

  “Yeah; or keep milking her for as long as possible.”

  He poked a crooked finger at me, “That too. Then butcher her. I want a steak!”

  “You remember that black cow we found on the road out there?”

  A smile cut the old man’s face. “You thinking it was one of his?”

  “Has to be. I doubt many folks around here happen to have enough black angus that one can get away and they don’t come looking for it.”

  “Probably right,” Sarge replied. Then he cut me a conspiratorial smile and said, “We won’t mention that cow to him.”

  “No, we won’t. I figure it was stolen from him anyway.” I replied with the same smile.

  Mike and Ted came out of the house and stopped in front of us. Mike was looking back and forth between me and the old man. Lowering his sunglasses, he said, “Looks to me like you two are up to something. You about to kiss?”

  “Don’t worry about it, shithead! And you can kiss my ass!” Sarge barked back and pointed at the truck sitting in the road, “Get that shit unloaded!”

  Ted gave Mike a shove and they headed for the truck. “Come on, Mikey, he doesn’t want to play right now.”

  “He never wants to play!” Mike grumbled.

  “You’re damn right!” Sarge shouted back.

  Turning and having to walk backwards because Ted was pushing him, Mike shouted, “You’re a shitty father figure!”

  “I’d cut my nut sack off if I was your daddy!” Sarge barked back.
/>   As all this was going on, Dalton and Aric came out of the house as well. I waved Dalton over as they were heading for the truck and asked, “You know how to build a still?”

  “Do I!”

  “I want to start on one.”

  Dalton looked at Sarge and said, “We’ll be back in a minute.”

  “I ain’t got time for grab-ass games! This shit ain’t gonna unload itself!”

  “Yeah,” Dalton replied. Then he put a finger to his chin like he was thinking and said, “If only there were another person to help.” He looked at Sarge and asked, “You know anyone doing something utterly useless, like making a fucking list when there’s real work to do?”

  Sarge’s right leg flew out in an attempt to kick Dalton in the ass. But the big man is surprisingly limber and easily dodged it, shouting, “I didn’t think so!”

  We left Sarge in a flurry of cussing, kicking and stammering as Dalton led the way. “Where are we going?” I asked.

  “I want to show you something.”

  I looked at Aric for an answer. But he just shrugged. Dalton led us to the house where he has his forge set up. He walked under the little cabana he’d built and turned around.

  “You brought that copper sheeting back and said you wanted to build a still.”

  I nodded, “Yeah.”

  “But you never did anything with it.”

  “Doesn’t change the fact I got it to build a still.”

  Dalton turned and grabbed a tarp covering something behind him and pulled it off. “So, I did!”

  Under the tarp was a beautiful round kettle still. “Holy shit,” Aric said.

  “Yeah, holy shit,” I repeated. Then asked, “When did you do this?”

  “I’ve been working on it for a while now. It takes a lot time to hammer out sheet material into this shape. I had to make some of the tools too,” Dalton replied and picked up a hammer with a broad curved face. “Just have to sit here and tap, tap, tap, until it starts to take on the form.”

  “That’s just awesome. What did you solder it with?” I asked.

  “Another challenge. I searched every garage around here for lead-free solder and finally managed to get enough.”

  I ran my hand over the smooth exterior. “Amazing work, man. Really.”

  Dalton patted the side of the vessel and replied, “It’s been a labor of love.” Then he looked at me with a serious tone. “Now for the important question. Just what are we going to distill?”

  “As soon as that corn’s dried, we’re going to make some liquor.”

  Dalton hopped around on one foot, shouting. “Hot damn!”

  “Calm down there, Jack Daniels. We’re aren’t going into the wholesale liquor business. It’d just be good to have a little around. For medicinal purposes and such.”

  Dalton nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah, yeah, I totally agree. Medicinal, yeah.”

  I shook my head and rubbed my face with my hands. “Let me guess. You want to do the distilling.”

  Dalton cocked his head to the side and patted the still. “Well, I mean, unless you’ve got a still somewhere.”

  “What?” I asked, unsure if I was catching exactly what he was insinuating.

  “I have a still and you’ll have corn. Looks like a match made in heaven to me.”

  Aric started to laugh and said, “Oh man, that’s priceless.”

  “No, that’s horse shit. But whatever. You can do it. Better come up with a souring tank too.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve already got a fermenter.”

  Aric laughed, “You’re already to go, aren’t you? I don’t think it would hurt to have a little hooch around.”

  “Tis proof God loves us!” Dalton shouted with a flourish.

  “That’s beer, bonehead,” I replied.

  Shrugging it off, Dalton replied, “Potato, tomato; it’s the same thing.”

  “Ah, you don’t know how that saying works, do you?”

  “Sod off!” Dalton shouted and picked up his little hammer, “I’ve work to do!”

  Jabbing a thumb over my shoulder, I said, “Yeah, back over there at that house. Your boss man is probably already looking for you.”

  Dalton laid the hammer back down and leaned in close to the still. Patting it, he whispered, “I’ll be back soon, sweetie; don’t worry.”

  As we walked back towards the old man’s place, I told Dalton and Aric about the two bikes we saw. As soon as I mentioned them, Dalton said, “You think it’s the same crew we had a run – in with down the road?”

  I nodded. “I think they’re out looking for that fuel tanker.”

  “We need to set up another OP and catch them sneaking around.”

  “The old man wants to put a couple of guys in one of the burned-out vehicles out there at the end of the road. They’ll be able to see all the way down the road to the north, where they’ll have to come from.”

  “I say we go pay them a visit in the middle of the night. We know where they are.”

  “We could take boats up the creek. They probably wouldn’t be expecting that,” Aric said.

  “Maybe. But I’d prefer to deal with them when and where we choose. Not go kicking their door in and trying to slug it out,” I replied.

  Dalton nodded. “We need to catch them away from their AO for sure. If we take a couple out, they may send others to look for them. If they don’t come home as well, they’ll either call the game because they can’t take the losses, or they’ll come in force. Either way, we’ll be able to take care of them. No way they have the kind of resources we do.”

  “Maybe, but I do not want another fight here. I’ve had enough of that shit.”

  “Me neither. Not with Fred being pregnant,” Aric added.

  “Fugetaboutit!” Dalton shouted. “We’ll take care of them.”

  As we walked up to the house, the old man looked at his watch. Shaking his head, he replied, “About damn time you cheesedicks got back here!”

  “Come on, Top,” Dalton replied. “We were on important legal business.”

  Sarge stared down his finger at Dalton and shouted, “You best unfuck yourself and fast! I ain’t got time for your grab ass games.”

  Dalton stopped and thought for a minute. “Top, you know what Army stands for?”

  “Don’t press your luck, asshole!”

  “Ain’t ready to be a Marine yet.”

  “You ain’t even a Marine!” Sarge shouted, adding, “you fucking window-licking retard!”

  “I am!” Ian called from the driveway as he and Jamie carried a crate inside.

  Sarge looked back at him and shouted, “Marine my ass! About as useful as the maître fucking d’ on the fucking Titanic! You halfwits get your asses to work!”

  “On that note, I’m leaving,” I said as I mounted the Harley.

  Sarge turned and shouted, “Damn right! Get to steppin’; you’re about useless too!”

  I started the Harley and held my hand to my ear, “Huh? What’d you say? I can’t hear you.”

  When the old man went to shout something at me, I revved the big bike. It infuriated him and got everyone else to laughing, which of course only made it worse. But I was smart and dropped it into gear and got the hell out of the blast zone before he could get a hand around my neck. I rode back to the house and pulled the bike up front. Going in, I grabbed a big cloth bag and brought it back out and loaded the grapes into it.

  Mel and the girls weren’t back yet, so I was going to use the time to process the grapes. Since a large part of the job was smashing them, I carried the bag over to Danny’s. The kids were in the back yard playing in the sprinkler. No doubt, they’d get a kick out of mashing the fruit. Danny brought out a bucket and when I asked for something to pound them with, he disappeared and returned with what looked like a table leg. It was raw wood and unfinished and would do the job perfectly.

  We set the bucket on the porch and dropped the leg in. Then I called the kids up to the porch. They all came running, dripping water a
ll over the porch. I showed them what I wanted them to do and Little Bit quickly grabbed the leg and went to work. The kids were all giggles as they smashed the grapes, taking turns in a not-so-round robin. I instructed the kids to not pound too hard, but to pick the masher up and drop it.

  “Why?” Danny asked.

  “You don’t want to crush the seeds. It’ll make it really bitter.”

  As the kids were working and we were talking, Miss Kay came out of the house with a couple glasses of ice tea.

  “You boys look hot. Brought you some tea to cool you off,” she said and looked down at the bucket, “what’s this?”

  Taking the offered glass, I thanked her and said, “I found some grapes today. Thought we would process them down into juice for you.”

  “Grapes?” Kay asked as she leaned over the bucket. “Oh my, that looks amazing. I can make jelly out of that for sure!”

  “We have to get the juice ready first. This isn’t like commercial grapes.”

  “What do you have to do other than smash and strain them?”

  “Once we’ve strained it through a cheesecloth or something, the juice needs to sit in the fridge for a couple of days. Wild grapes have tartrate. It forms gritty little crystals that will really irritate your throat. It’ll even burn your hands if you handle it too long.”

  “The juice will?” Danny asked.

  “We can’t do anything with that,” Kay said.

  “Sure, you can. Once it settles, you just pour the juice off and leave the gray sludge behind. It makes up a lot of the juice, but we have enough to make jelly for sure.”

  “Ok, Morgan, if you say so,” Kay replied.

  “Trust me on this one,” I replied with a smile and took a sip of the tea.

  “Kay, Morgan’s been eating weeds as long as I’ve known him. He’s taught me some things too. I trust him,” Danny added.

  Kay smiled, “Oh, I trust him. Just having a little fun.” She turned and looked at me, asking, “Are the girls back yet?”

  “They weren’t when I came over here. Soon as we strain this juice, I’ll go home and wait on them.”

  “Then I’ll get you a cloth too,” Kay said as she disappeared into the house.

 

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