The Sanders Saga

by N. C. Reed

  “Got it in one,” Gordon nodded. “Abby was looking that way as well, so you may get an earful about that Walters girl.”

  “What Walters girl?” Lainie asked threateningly.

  “Remember, I told you my niece was trying to 'hook me up',” Clay reminded her.

  “I remember,” she laughed. “I was just playing. I think I can compete with a girl just out of high school,” she gave him a saucy look.

  “Well, on that note I will leave this with you and carry on,” Gordon coughed lightly. “Blanket, food,” he indicated the basket, “and drink,” a small cooler. “How are you on fuel?” he asked more seriously.

  “Half full,” Clay reported. “Enough to finish here and get back. I'll fuel up at the shed and see what I need to do next.”

  “Good deal,” Gordon nodded. “Miss Harper, pleasure to meet you. Welcome to harvest time at the Sanders',” he laughed.

  “Pleasure to meet you too, sir,” Lainie laughed. “He's nice,” she said as Gordon drove away.

  “He's a good man,” Clay nodded. “Come on and let's eat!” he took the blanket and spread it out.

  -

  “Something's wrong,” Clay said as they headed for the shed.

  “What? What is it?” Lainie looked alarmed.

  “No, no, not like that,” Clay shook his head. “No, there's. . .hold on,” he told her, slowing. When the big machine was still he engaged the brake and stepped out on the platform.

  “Hey!” Lainie yelled at him.

  “Relax,” he told her, looking back. “Well, damn,” he sighed, getting back inside. He started them moving again but much slower.

  “Tire going flat,” he told her. “We should make the shop but I'll have to see if I can patch it or if we have to change it out.”

  “That can't be as easy as changing a flat on a car,” she frowned.

  “It's not,” he assured her.

  Fifteen minutes later Clay was muttering under his breath as he sponged soapy water over the recently re-inflated tire. Even Lainie could see the bubbles coming from the tire.

  “Ran over some kind of big spike it looks like,” Clay told her. “This might can be repaired but not by me. Son-of-a-bitch,” he murmured to himself.

  “Hey!” Lainie slugged him lightly. “Language!”

  “Sorry,” he snorted. “Still, this is a bunch of ...a mess,” he settled for saying. “I've got to get this tire off.”

  “Do you have a spare?” she mimed looking beneath the harvester, making him laugh.

  “Yeah,” he laughed. “But changing this thing is going to take all night,” he sighed. “Stand back over there,” he pointed to a place out of the way. “I need to back this beast in to the shop so I can get the jack and the air line to it. Probably have to get my nephew and maybe my brother-in-law to help. My brother if he's home yet.”

  Ten minutes later the harvester was rear first into the shop, tire already losing air once more.

  “Definitely not patching that,” he said as she joined him in the shed. As he took another look at the tire she looked at the surroundings.

  “What is all this?” she asked, waving her hand to incorporate the newly hung mesh panels and wiring.

  “Help with lightning strikes,” he answered as off-hand as he could. He was placing an impact wrench on the first lug of the now flat tire.

  “Oh,” Lainie nodded. “Cause I thought it looked a lot like a giant Faraday cage,” she remarked easily.

  “Damn it!” Clayton muttered as the wrench lost it's grip, mostly because he lost his own grip on the wrench and banged a knuckle against the tire.

  “You okay?” she asked as he shook his hand.

  “Yeah, I'm fine, just slipped,” he nodded. “A giant what?”

  “Faraday Cage,” she repeated, looking again to the weaved mesh overhead and along the walls. “Micheal Faraday invented it. I saw a program about it on the History Channel. It's a way to spread out an electrical surge to keep it from damaging whatever is inside, basically. I suppose it could work for lightning strikes too,” she shrugged. “Anything I can do to help?” she turned her attention back to him.

  “No, I need to send for my nephew and the rest,” he pulled his phone out, trying to recover his surprise. “I'll need their help with this.”

  -

  It took Clayton, Gordy, Ronny, Gordon and finally Robert when he arrived to get the old and mangled tire off and the spare on. By that time supper was long cold and plates had been set aside for those still working. The twins delivered two plates to their Uncle Clay, rightly assuming that he and his lady friend would not want to face the scrutiny of the Sanders women after a long night of hard labor.

  “Thanks guys,” he told them.

  “Pie,” Leanne said, handing him a third plate. “And this is a bribe,” she added, looking at Lainie.

  “What kind of bribe?” the redhead smiled at the younger girl.

  “Take us for a ride in your car,” Leon the Deuce said unashamedly. “Not now, just whenever you get the time. A real ride,” he emphasized.

  “Done,” Lainie's smile blossomed bigger.

  “Yes,” Leon Two pumped his fist front to back in a victory gesture.

  “Let's get up to the house in the meantime,” Clay said, walking to the ATV they had ridden to the barn on that morning. “I want to get a shower and then eat.”

  “Okay,” Lainie nodded, taking his plate once she was settled. “We should conserve water,” she said slyly. “I 'll wash your back and so on?”

  “Best offer I've had since breakfast,” he chuckled as he fired up the side-by-side. Soon they were bouncing their way up the hill.

  “I told him the next time she was here I expected to meet her,” Angela fussed as she watched them headed away.

  “You know, we just finished a full day's work and then changed a tire the size of a smart car,” a filthy Gordon mentioned as he sat down to eat. “Might want to keep that in mind.”

  “Stop doing that,” she scolded. “I'm his mother. I have a right to know who she is.”

  “I'm sure when he wants us to know, he will tell us,” Gordon assured her.

  “You didn't meet her out there?” she pointed to the barn.

  “I did not meet her at the barn,” Gordon said carefully. “I was a bit busy making sure we'd be able to run tomorrow. She does seem to dote on Clay a good bit though, and take good care of him. I'd say that's a plus.”

  “I'd like to know more about her family,” Angela said as she looked out the window again.

  “For all we know she doesn't have any,” Gordon shrugged.

  “Oh that just won't do!” Angela shook her head. “We have to know more about her, Gordon.”

  Gordon ate and ignored her, secretly smiling at the game his son was playing. It would blow up on him sooner or later, which would be equally entertaining, but it was still fun to watch now.

  CHAPTER NINE

  -

  Lainie couldn't stay of course, at least not for long, but she did stay until Monday morning. After lingering over breakfast as long as Clay could justify she watched him head away and then started back to Nashville. Angela Sanders watched her depart with a jaundiced eye and Abigail did the same though only in spirit since she was working.

  Clay worked until lunch when his father met him with fuel and his lunch. Leon was with him.

  “Lainie knows we've turned the shed into a Faraday Cage,” he told them as he wolfed down his lunch.

  “What did you tell her that for?” Leon demanded.

  “I didn't,” Clay shook his head. “She took one look at it and knew. Knew all about it in fact,” he shrugged. “She's smart.”

  “She is that,” Leon agreed.

  “You know her too?” Gordon asked.

  “She's Marla Jones' granddaughter,” Leon figured there was no point in lying about it.

  “The runaway?” Gordon frowned.

  “We helped her hide from her mother's boyfriend until she was of age an
d then she went to Nashville. Done good for herself with a little help here and there,” Leon nodded.

  “Mother's boyfriend?” Gordon frowned. “I don't like the sound of that.”

  “You would be right not to,” Leon promised. “He was a bastard if ever there was one.”

  “Was?” Gordon raised an eyebrow.

  “Died a while back I hear,” Leon shrugged casually. “You know how it is with those kind.”

  “Yeah.”

  -

  “You need what?”

  “We need a storage building,” Leanne told him. “We've ordered several truck loads of solar panels for electricity. We need a safe and secure place to store them. We don't have it.”

  “Yeah, we do,” Clay told them. “The Troy farm has several buildings that are empty and all of them are secure. Store them there.”

  “Uh, I didn't think the lease on their farm included the buildings,” Deuce said into the silence.

  “I'm the one who bought the farm,” Clay told them and then snorted mentally at the euphemism. “Store anything you need to over there. And since no one knows I own it, and we're keeping it that way,” he looked pointedly at them, “we can hire work done to put in shelves or whatever else you need. Take your golf cart over there and take a look,” he handed over a ring of keys. “Don't get hurt.” The twins shared an electric golf cart they used to get around the farm on, their luck with a four-wheeler being legendary. Legendarily bad, as in wrecking almost every time they tried to drive. The golf cart was some better. And safer.

  “We won't,” they replied in unison.

  “I really wish they would stop doing that,” Leon grumbled.

  -

  “It would be cheaper to build a new building to spec than to upgrade any of them,” Leanne informed her brother later that week.

  “I thought so too,” he nodded. “Have you found a building?” he asked.

  “Yes, and I found something else, too,” she turned her laptop where he could see.

  “Yeah,” he grinned slowly. “Yeah, that's it exactly.”

  -

  “Let me get this straight,” Leon frowned mightily at the twins. “You want to build three new buildings over there? That's instead of using what's already on the place?”

  “Yes,” Deuce nodded. “In order to protect everything, it will be far cheaper and more efficient to build a new building and build it the way we need it, instead of trying to make one of the older buildings work. It will be expensive to do, and not nearly as effective if we're hit with a major CME. Plus if we have any room left and some warning, we can protect more vehicles.”

  “And you want to use one of them for my project?” he asked, rubbing his neck.

  “Look,” Leanne opened her laptop and showed him the same thing she had showed Deuce.

  “Yeah,” Leon nodded after a minute. “Yeah, I like that a lot. How much money are we talking about? And what happened to the 'you need windows' argument?”

  “Louvers,” Deuce pointed to the grates along the wall. “Open them in summer and there will be a pair of attic fans that will help pull air through. We think they will at least run through the hottest part of the day on solar power. And we're planning on using forklift batteries for the solar panels to store power in, so even on cloudy days it should be okay. But we can supplement that with porches and awnings, making shaded or cool places for the building during the hot times of the year if all else fail. And since the living areas area all upstairs, we can always add windows. I'll ask the company to figure that into the estimate.”

  “And cupolas,” Clay said suddenly, still studying the page. “I want two cupolas on each building, about ten feet from the end or so,” he pointed. “Accessible from inside. Cover it with those metal shutters if you want but I want to be able to open those from the inside. By hand,” he added.

  “Okay,” Deuce nodded. “That will almost certainly cost more, though. We'll need stairs leading there.”

  “That's okay,” Clay nodded. “And remember, Uncle Clay's secret stays his secret for now, right?”

  “Yes, Uncle Clay,” they nodded in unison.

  “Be gone demon!” Leon instantly started sprinkling them with water from his glass. “The power of chlorine compels you!”

  “Don't you mean Geritol?” Clay smirked, which set the already laughing twins to howling.

  “You're all in a conspiracy against me,” the Old Man growled, a sour look on his face. “All of you.”

  -

  “Well, someone's building over on the Troy place,” Gordon remarked a week later. “Wonder what our neighbors will be like? Assuming they get here before whatever might happen.”

  “No telling,” Clay shrugged, watching the fuel gauge as he refueled his machine. “We're getting close to finished, aren't we?” he asked, risking a look at his father.

  “Maybe two more days, the weather holds,” Gordon nodded. “Three at the outside.” He looked at his son.

  “Why?”

  “I'm thinking about having Lainie down next weekend,” Clay told him. “When we're not ass over tea kettle busy. Maybe. . .maybe meet everybody,” he finally managed to get out.

  “Sounds like a plan,” Gordon nodded. “Like her that much?” he asked.

  “I must not like her enough if I'm going to bring her into that lion's den,” he nodded toward the house where his mother, sister, and sister-in-law were preparing supper, most likely with Abby's assistance. “And I'm giving you fair warning,” he looked at his father. “If they start in on her, we 'll leave. Me and her can settle in my little cabin and feed ourselves just fine.”

  “Don't blame you a bit,” Gordon approved. “No one gave Ronny or Patricia the third degree, so they don't have a right to do it to her.”

  “Just so we're clear,” Clay nodded. “I'm done here,” he turned back to his job.

  -

  “We really are reaching the point where we're going to have to consider telling everyone else,” Leanne reported that Sunday evening. “They're getting suspicious as it is. Soon we 'll actually be working at cross purposes if we're not careful.”

  “How far are we from being finished?” Clay asked.

  “We won't ever really finish, Uncle Clay,” Deuce shrugged. “There will always be something we can add, something we need more of, or maybe think we don't have enough of. Every time we go over the lists we're going to find a hole.”

  “Which is another reason to get the others involved,” Leanne tagged in. “Fresh eyes, looking at all of our lists from a different perspective. Looking for things we've overlooked. Forgotten. Whatever.”

  “Like guns,” Deuce took over again. “We've done all of this without mentioning weapons or ammunition, reloading equipment or supplies or anything else. Without the ability to protect ourselves, having all this,” he waved an arm around him, “won't matter for long because someone will come and take it from us.”

  “Don't worry about that,” Clay told him flatly. “I got that covered.”

  “How?” Leanne asked, pen in hand.

  “Sorry, Anne,” Clay shook his head. “Need to know. Just trust me when I say it's covered. Won't hurt to lay in some more rounds for the hunting rifles and shotguns we have here,” he admitted. “And reloading for them, too, as far as that goes. But for defense, don't worry. I got it covered.”

  “Okay,” Deuce looked a little dubious but trusted his Uncle Clay.

  “So,” Leon looked at the assembled group. “With all that in mind, how far are we from being done?”

  “The new buildings are up and finished,” Leanne reported. “Solar equipment stored, and the converters are stored inside their own Faraday protection inside the buildings. The batteries are set and grounded.”

  “Why did you use forklift batteries?” Gordon asked.

  “We couldn't get submarine batteries,” Deuce told him. “This was the next best thing. Deep cycle and deep storage. Can take a charge from the solar panels or from the generator.”
r />   “I see,” Gordon pretended to know what they were talking about and they pretended to believe him.

  “We can always use more food, and I really want Uncle Robert to look over the radio situation and Aunt Patricia to do the same for the medical supplies and equipment, but otherwise. . .a week,” Leanne finished.

  “How did you end up doing the medical stuff without her?” Leon asked.

  “We went through the clinic and made a list of everything,” Deuce told him. “We've got everything we need for a small clinic except the drugs. Those we can't touch,” he shrugged.

  “We 'll take care of that when the time comes,” Clay promised, looking at his watch. “All right, I'm headed out,” he stood. “So, unless something happens this will be our last meeting before we tell everyone next week. Sunday night? Are well all agreed on that?”

  Everyone nodded, all of them reluctantly.

  “Between now and then maybe the two of you can prepare a demonstration of how bad this could be?” he asked the twins. “Something they can see might be more convincing than just us talking.”

  “We can do that,” Deuce promised. “It 'll be fun,” he smiled.

  “All right then,” he took a deep breath. “I need to travel. I have to tell someone else.”

  “I need to see you before you go,” Leon got to his feet. “Won't take but a minute,” he promised.

  Everyone headed out, leaving Leon and Clay to talk. Leon went to his desk and rummaged around for a bit before coming up with a leather envelope, the likes of which you didn't see any more. He took a bundle of papers from it, looked them over under a magnifying glass, and then picked up a pen and scratched something on it. Taking the papers and stuffing them back in the envelope, he brought it to Clay.

  “Give this to Lainie,” he told his grandson. “It's the deed to the club. I assume you're going to tell her about all this while you're there this weekend?” he asked. Clay nodded.

  “Might be the last time you see her,” Leon warned. “And I'm too old to keep making that trip. Give her this and tell her she can keep it, sell it, rent it, I don't care. It's hers now.”

  “Okay,” Clay took the envelope. “You okay?” he asked, concerned.

  “No,” Leon shook his head. “I ain't. I'm old, son, and stress is catching up to me. I got too many things that ain't yet done but. . .I ain't rightly sure I got time to do 'em, neither,” he admitted. “This is one of those things,” he pointed to the envelope. “It's hers in my will anyway, but no sense in making her wait. She's earned it. Now go on,” he shooed Clay on toward the door. “I'm going to rest a while. I'm tired. I ain't doing nothing else for a while except maybe some reading.”