Apokalypsis | Book 5 | Apokalypsis 5

by Morris, Kate

  “Maybe,” Spencer said with a nod and helped them. “If they like this grain, that might be a good way to draw them in whenever we need meat.”

  Roman nodded, but Jane could see the slight downturn of his mouth at the corner as if he found that idea unappealing. She wasn’t sure if it was the ease of killing an animal by enticing it with food when it was hungry, or if he just didn’t like killing them at all.

  She and Roman led them down to the lower floor of the barn where the grain silo connected.

  “Used to be a dairy farm, I guess,” Roman explained. “And grain.”

  “I think if this all doesn’t settle down by spring, we’re gonna have to learn a whole lot more about farming,” Spencer commented.

  “Yeah,” Roman agreed, “I think so, too. And I’m a city kid, so I don’t know what I’ll even be able to contribute.”

  “Me, too,” he agreed.

  “Jane’s got more experience, having worked on that horse farm,” Roman told them.

  “I just worked there,” she corrected. “We had the hay and grain delivered. I don’t know anything about this stuff, either.”

  “Looks like we’d better make friends with a farmer or hit up the local library for info,” Spencer remarked.

  Wren said, “Or a feed store.”

  Everyone paused to look at her since she was so quiet all the time. She looked nervous about having all eyes on her.

  “It’s just that my uncle and I had to go to one recently.” Wren paused as if trying to choose her next words with more care than they should require. “Er…to check the place out. Yeah, I’d never been to a feed mill before. We were touring an Amish place.”

  “Oh, like tourists?” Roman asked as if it made sense. “Yeah, a lot of people do that- go down to Amish country and tour around.”

  “Right,” Wren agreed, although Jane got the impression she was hiding something. “Anyway, I remember that place had a lot of books and stuff about farming.”

  “Great idea,” Roman said. “Rural place like this? They gotta have a feed mill in town somewhere.”

  They came to the feed room of the barn where it smelled like dried corn, oats, and even a little bit like molasses. It brought back memories of Mrs. Goddard’s place, which made her sad. She and Roman still hadn’t told Noah that they killed his dad, Mrs. Goddard’s son, who had likely murdered her. They hadn’t even discussed telling him yet. Jane had no idea how he was going to take it, knowing that they killed his father. It was in self-defense, but knowing that might not make it go down any easier. Nana Peaches died saving her life, but that didn’t make her feel any better about her grandmother’s death. She just wanted her back. Noah could hate them both for what they did. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind now anyway, which was a relief that they would be able to put it off for a while. Someday she’d tell him.

  Roman explained the grain system and showed them how to open the lever. They released some grain into the wheelbarrow, closed the lever again, and locked it.

  “A feed mill might be a valuable place for more than just books,” Jane remarked, wondering if they’d run out before the grass grew tall in the pastures again in the spring.

  Spencer jumped in to say, “Hey, yeah, I remember. They do. They do have a feed mill in this town.” When everyone turned speculative stares at him this time, he explained. “Tristan and I were in charge of running recon on all the oil fracking sites, refineries, and pipelines in this county. Mostly, we just drove from place to place making sure no protestors were doing stupid things like trying to blow up the pipelines or causing trouble for the workers. Anyway, I remember seeing a feed mill in town. We should check it out.”

  “Sounds good,” Roman agreed as he tossed feed scoops into the wheelbarrow. “Is this enough, Jane?”

  “Yep, that ought to do it.”

  Roman pushed the wheelbarrow down the hall that led out to an attached loafing shed and then out onto the concrete feedlot. Jane was nervous because it wasn’t yet dawn, and she worried night crawlers could be around. Being with Roman made her feel marginally safer, but still, she glanced around a lot.

  Jane opened the gate, and he shoved through the snow to the black rubber feed bins. This was also how Mrs. Goddard fed some of the horses back home, so she was familiar with the technique.

  “Let me get some of the snow out first, Roman,” she said.

  She stepped forward to help, but Roman stopped her. “No, Jane. Your gloves aren’t that waterproof. Let me do it.”

  “’Kay, sorry,” she apologized for not being helpful.

  He just shot her a crooked grin. “It’s all good.”

  Wren and Spencer immediately jumped in to help since they clearly had thermal, heavy-duty gloves on. The horses were already trotting through the deep snow toward them. She could see puffs of gray steam coming out of their big nostrils as they neared. Then they used the grain scoops and spread out the feed to the hungry animals.

  “If we run out of hay, we could go back to Mrs. Goddard’s with the truck and trailer and get the rest,” Jane reminded Roman.

  “Yeah, I forgot all about that,” he said and explained the situation to the others. “Where Jane used to work. They had a ton of hay there. Also,” he said, turning to her, “that Mr. Rankin guy. Maybe he has hay to trade, ya’ know?”

  “Great, yeah. I’m sure he would. Of course, he’s feeding his cattle, but we could probably trade,” she said to Roman and then turned to Spencer. “He was a man Mrs. Goddard bought hay from. He’s very kind. We got some gas from him last week when we went to the city. He’s very open to trading for things with us since he’s alone with his little boy and afraid to go out much because of his son.”

  “Good idea,” he said. “We got all we could from Renee’s, but some of it was in round bales, which just didn’t seem practical. If we had to, we could go back for those. Looked like a lot of hay in the top of this barn, though.”

  “Yeah, it’s just that feeding animals through the winter means they eat more during the cold months. It also keeps them warm, especially grain. Horses metabolize and produce heat. Corn that is. They metabolize corn. I mean, that’s how Mrs. Goddard explained it to me. They need grain to help keep their body heat in the winter. Especially if they have no shelter.” Jane realized she was rambling and stopped.

  “Right, I gotcha’,” Spencer said with a nod and a wink of sympathy.

  “Sun’s going to be up soon,” Roman pointed to the horizon. “Let’s set up in the top of the barn. The big doors open for the hay elevator, but it’s on its side now on the ground. We could open them a little and treat it like a deer stand, wait for some to show up.”

  They agreed and followed him upstairs. At least it was warmer than standing out in the cold. She brought some thermoses full of hot tea and one with hot chocolate in her pack. Spencer unloaded his own backpack and revealed two thermoses, as well.

  “Now the exciting part,” Roman said with wry amusement in his voice. “Waiting.”

  “Exactly,” Spencer agreed as he set up his rifle and took out binoculars. “This is a cool old farm.”

  “Yeah,” Roman agreed. “You ever come over here with your dad, Jane?”

  She shook her head, “No, I was mostly with my grandmother in the city so I could go to school. Only got to come down here in the summers when my dad was going to be home.”

  “And now your mom’s here?” Spencer asked.

  Oh, boy. Where to start?

  When she didn’t immediately answer, Roman explained for her, “Divorced.”

  But Jane didn’t want to lie, so she told him the truth, “And I was taken from her at twelve. My mom’s not a very good person. Part of the story I left out was the how she came to be here. She was in prison.”

  “Oh, wow. That’s crazy,” Spencer remarked with surprise. “You’re such a sweet kid.”

  She grinned uncomfortably.

  It didn’t matter anymore; nothing did. Everyone had a fresh slate. This wasn’t hi
gh school where everyone judged every move a person made, what they wore, where they were from, a hair being out of place, how many followers someone had on social media. This was new. Nobody could judge her now, and if they did, she didn’t care.

  “Yeah, mother of the year,” she joked and got a chuckle from Wren. “What about you, Wren? Where are your parents?”

  “Dead,” she said in a bleak tone that mimicked the answer. “It was just me and Jamie.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Seems like we’ve all got the same story,” Wren said and stared off into the distance, then pulled down the brim of her black stocking cap a little lower.

  “I suppose we do,” Jane agreed because it was true. “What about you, Spencer?”

  “Ah,” he said as if the subject were unpleasant. “My mom died when I was just a kid, cancer. Don’t get along with the rest of my family, and my folks divorced when I was a baby still. The Army became like my family, until I met Renee.”

  “That’s sweet,” Jane said. “Not the sad parts, but the part about Renee. She’s really nice.”

  “Not the type of girl I’d usually go for, but there’s just something about her, ya’ know? She’s so crazy but so good and kind at the same time.”

  Jane grinned. It was refreshing hearing someone talk so openly about their feelings. It was like everyone walked around with their guards up now. She certainly did, but she always had, so it wasn’t much of a change for her. Roman was like Spencer, though. He told her exactly how he felt, and that scared the crap out of her.

  “Have you been together long?” Roman asked as he scanned the open field with his rifle scope.

  “No, not really. Just before this all started. As a matter of fact, one of our first dates was on four-wheelers out in the woods with Tristan and Avery- although back then, Tristan was giving our girl the blow-off a lot. We went out on Renee’s family’s property and had a bonfire with some of our friends. We were attacked by night crawlers. Lost some good people that night.”

  “That’s terrible, Spencer,” Jane said. “I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded and repeated Wren’s statement. “Yeah, well, we’ve all got the same problems now, right?”

  She nodded with sympathy and took the binoculars from his outstretched hand. It was harder scanning the area than she thought it would be. Everything just seemed white, other than the woods beyond the pasture. The sun was rising on the horizon, not entirely above the tall trees yet. The land around them was cast in a purplish haze waiting for either a cloudy and overcast or a sunny with blue skies day. Nobody had weather reports on their phones or the television or morning commute updates on the radio. Her phone’s weather app was still on October 20th, months ago. The only reports anyone ever got now were dreary and about the infected or where to go for help. Now they had to rely on patiently waiting to find out what the day would hold for weather conditions.

  It seemed like they were sitting in the hayloft forever when she finally saw movement.

  “Hey, hey, I think I see one,” she whispered.

  “Where, Jane?” Roman asked as she pointed toward her left, then smacked her hand against the door.

  “Ow,” she said stupidly.

  “Got it. I see them. Small herd,” Roman whispered as she handed off her binoculars to Spencer. “Now, who’s the best shot of us?”

  They were all silent as the deer came a little closer into the open pasture with less care and more confidence.

  “Hell, after yesterday, my vote’s for Wren,” Roman admitted to them.

  Spencer added, “Yeah, I’m no sniper. I mean, I can shoot. Obviously. But Tristan was impressed with her yesterday, so I’d say she gets my vote, too.”

  “Agreed,” Jane said, not wanting that responsibility on her shoulders.

  Wren had her own rifle with a scope that she’d brought this morning but had been using binoculars to look for deer, too.

  “Alright, I’ll give it a try. This height is going to make it a bit more tricky,” she finally said as they all waited.

  “Try to hit a buck,” Roman said. “If not, we’ll be leaving babies without moms.”

  “Antlers, got it,” she remarked with a downturned mouth as if the idea of shooting an animal did not give her pleasure. Jane felt the same. “Shoot their dad instead.”

  Wren took a deep breath and watched through her rifle scope this time. She adjusted her shoulders, tiny shrugs in a way, until she had it settled the way she wanted.

  “There’s a big one standing a little away from the others,” she commented.

  “I see him,” Roman told her.

  Beside her, Wren took a breath and held it a moment. Jane knew what was coming, so she plugged her ears with her fingers.

  “Wait!” Roman cried out softly but fervently. “Wren, don’t shoot!”

  “What? Why?” she asked and lowered her rifle. “I have the shot.”

  “Look! Everyone, look!” he exclaimed quietly and pointed about a hundred yards down from the deer.

  “Oh, shit,” Spencer hissed. “Everyone, be quiet.”

  Jane thought the same thing when she spotted them. At least half a dozen of them slinking around near the edge of the woods with likely the same intentions her own group had towards the deer.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Spencer whispered. “If they spot us, I don’t know if we have enough time to get down to the four-wheelers before they’d reach us.”

  Watching the night crawlers, who should’ve been hidden by now since the sun was nearly all the way up from its slumber, Jane wanted to flee. However, all they could do was watch them come out of the woods, creeping ever closer.

  He’d nursed the girl in the goat barn back to health, fed and clothed her, too. She was not a trusting person. She still slept near the door of the bunker as if she thought she might have to make a fast escape in the middle of the night. She didn’t talk much, seemed sad most of the time, but did help him with daily chores. So far, it was a good setup.

  Whenever he asked about her family, she avoided the question or walked away. He wanted to explain to her the natural progression of life and that death was just a normal part of it, but she seemed too sad to deal with her problems. He was pretty sure her family was dead, though. His was, too, but he had to go on.

  She’d told him her age, thirteen, and he realized she was tall for a girl so young. He wasn’t done growing according to his father. Maybe he’d be taller than her someday.

  He was busy picking carrots in the greenhouse when he heard the first shrill scream, one that was so distinct and familiar to people now. Locking up, he picked up the rifle, left the food, and hurried for the bunker. It was almost dark, after all.

  The girl came shooting out of the woods. His hand automatically found hers, and they ran together to the bunker where he just barely got the door closed and the steel lock bar set in place when one of them rammed its body into it. When he looked down, she was still holding his hand. That night she slept on the floor next to his bunk.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Avery

  She was riding up front with Tristan while Alex and Kaia rode in the backseat. They were on the hunt for radios, anything they could use for communications like CB’s, food supplies, and chickens. It made her feel edgy leaving their home, leaving Ephraim and Finn, but Tristan thought she’d know more about livestock and definitely more about chickens. Avery wasn’t so sure about that. Her mother was the gardener, the poultry expert, the caretaker of the family. Avery was just a self-entitled girl who took it all for granted that her life would keep on going the way it was and that her mother would always be there. Now people were relying on her to know what her mother knew, and in reality, all she knew was the bare minimum.

  “What about there?” Tristan asked, jolting her out of her trance of staring at the snowy woods along the road. He was pointing at a driveway nearly concealed by overgrown brush. They’d already hit four farms in the area, all of which were abandoned, not abandoned b
ut occupied, or already raided. This wasn’t working out so well yet.

  “Not sure,” she said. “Could be a farmer’s access driveway to a field they tended, or it could be an actual driveway to a house. There’s a ‘keep out’ sign, but it looks old.”

  “Yeah,” he agreed of the typical black and orange sign one could buy at a hardware store for a few dollars. It was aged and chipped badly and hanging from an equally rusty, open gate. “We’ll pull down a short way and see.”

  He turned in and drove carefully over a gravel road that she suspected was deeply rutted beneath the thick snow.

  “No tracks. Nobody’s been in or out of here for a while,” he remarked. “At least not since the last snow.”

  It ended up being an access road to a small oil well and a massive field of untended or harvested corn.

  “Hey, could we use that corn if we needed to?” Kaia asked.

  “Not sure,” Avery answered her sister. “I don’t know a lot about farming, Kai. We’d have to pull off a few ears and see if it’s moldy or ruined. It should’ve been harvested a few months ago.”

  “If the farmer who planted this had a farm, it’s probably abandoned, or they’re dead,” Alex stated coldly. “We could see if these fields connect to a farm somewhere.”

  “Good idea,” Tristan said and managed to turn around, for which Avery was thankful since they were probably three miles from home, and it was cold out today. She had no desire to walk home if they got the truck stuck.

  They drove back out onto the gravel road and followed it around a bend and down a short hill where the properties opened up more and the woods around them were less dense.

  “How ‘bout there?” Alex asked quickly and pointed through the open space between herself and Tristan.

  “Yeah, I see it,” Tristan returned as he peered carefully through the front window at the farm sitting back in surrounded by gently rolling hills. “This could be it. Everyone, be on the lookout for trouble. I’ll go down their lane slowly. As long as it looks like nobody else has recently.”