Jim Archer, jr. sat in the seat of the small tractor, looking over the field they'd just finished picking. He was sore and bone tired from the day's labor, but it was well worth it.... once the beans were properly dried and sealed away in jars, they'd have enough to last through til' next fall.
The hundred acres of fields outside of the town proper, though it hadn't been ideal, had responded well with the numerous tons of compost he'd been prepping with over the past three years, and his first actual crops had been more than adequate. The backyard garden they'd first started with hadn't been.
His wife, Debbie, was in the field next to this one, picking tomatoes, which had also done well. He looked in her direction, amazed at the transformation. Life on the farm agreed with her; she was nearly back to her pre-pregnancy weight.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught his look and yelled out "Hey! Instead of just sitting there, how about getting your ass over here and giving me a hand!?"
He just smiled, took another swig from his water bottle, and fired the small tractor back up, once again lowering the disc harrow back to the ground and putting the machine back in gear, continuing where he had left off. The old bean plants had to be harrowed thoroughly before he could add more compost to the field, and he wanted to get it all done before the first snow, of course, as it all had to be plowed under within the next month. The work never seemed to end around here. During the winter, he'd be teaching another class of young marksmen, and running some of the senior students through a driver's training course. Between those two duties, he had to fit in running his traplines and getting at least one deer to feed his growing family.
A startled shriek from his wife brought him out of his reverie; looking in the direction of her gaze, he saw what had gained her attention..... three wolves were slinking towards the cattle pen.
Reaching behind him, he grabbed for the scoped .308 rifle he always had slung across the seat back. Chambering a round as he jumped off the tractor, he ran toward her, stepping just past her and stopping, in between the furry invaders and his family. Shouldering the big rifle, he took careful aim and squeezed the trigger.
The heavy round went through the lead wolf, and by an odd twist of fate, ricocheted off a rib and clipped the second animal in the top of the head. It didn't kill it, but it sent him running and the last of the three ran off, trying to catch up. Jimmy worked the bolt, loading another round, but it was too late.... they'd made it to the treeline and vanished into the woods.
When he turned around, Debbie was standing by the stroller, holding their son to her breast as the little nipper nursed. She smiled as she noticed him watching.
"The gunshot woke him up.... I figured this is as good a time as any to feed him his lunch."
"Save some for me."
"Yeah, right.... you can make do with the cow's milk. Bobby needs this more than you do. Besides, when you finish this field, you need to get on the firewood situation. We're going to need more soon."
He sighed heavily, knowing she was right. He had five standing dead trees currently, that he'd been meaning to drop when he found the time.... they used firewood year 'round, to heat water for cooking and bathing. He would have to get on that after lunch.... and after field dressing that wolf....
Mike O'Connell stood on the stage of the old high school auditorium, proud of all they'd accomplished in the past four months. The first of the trainees had completed their version of basic training, and were now chomping at the bit for a bit of action.
Action they would get, soon enough.... the Cubans had set up another camp, to the east of his ranch, and they'd have to be dealt with before long.
Nobody wanted them getting too comfortable, after all.... of course, he had an ace in the hole. Several of his ranchhands had been taking time off from their farm duties--with his full blessing-- and going out at night, scouting out the camp and occasionally picking off one or two of the foreign soldiers with silenced rifles.
This, of course, didn't sit well with the Cuban Commander, who railed at his subordinates about keeping a better watch. He'd lost nearly fifty men, and nobody had heard or seen a thing.
What's more, every last one had been a head shot, except for one, in which the .308 round had gone through the neck, nearly decapitating the man.
When Mike got that report from his scout, he remarked "Now you're just showing off!"
Far to the north, in Michigan, Jerry was unloading from another moderately successful scavenging run. He'd run across an old automotive parts store warehouse, and had found half a dozen new-old car batteries and four cases of sulfuric acid. Those, he knew, would come in handy; he could use them, after flushing the cells with distilled water, to recondition a bunch of batteries, before hooking them in to the solar cells and three windmills that currently powered his home.
He barely had time to unload all of this in his storage battery charging room when Janet pulled up on her four wheeler, Bear running along behind her.
"Hi, Honey.... find anything good this time?"
He smiled at the question.... for a grown woman, his girlfriend could be a bit childlike at times.... 'Daddy, daddy, what did you bring me!?'
"Not much on this run, Babe.... found a bunch of brand new fishing lures in the stockroom of an old sporting goods store, and a couple of boxes of .38 special ammo.... useless to me, of course, but I can use them for trading. Did find something for Bear, though."
The big hound's ears pricked up at the mention of his name. Jerry grinned, throwing the big dog a rawhide chew toy, in the shape of a bone, nearly a foot long.
Janet smiled as the dog ran off with his prize. "Good... he has something to occupy him for a while.... maybe it'll keep his attention away from the chickens."
"He's been going after the chickens?" He asked, while he continued to unload the big truck. The next things out were a big box of fan belts and a small spool of heater hose.
She nodded.... "I think he's just playing with them.... he'll chase them across the yard, then lay down with his head on his legs, but as soon as they come back, and start pecking for worms around him, he jumps up, barking his head off and chasing the nearest one across the yard again. It's like a game to him."
"Well, does it keep him entertained?"
"Yeah, but it makes the chickens nervous.... and nervous hens don't lay as many eggs."
"Time to build a chicken yard, then... " he muttered to himself, wondering where he could dig up some chain link fence that wasn't all rusted to shit. With Bear, ordinary chicken wire would be worse than useless.... even if he could find any.
Three old, new in the box radiators and four sets of car stereo speakers joined the small pile behind the truck, followed by two car stereos... the radios themselves were useless, but the CD players were still usable... and he'd been wanting something to listen to in the garage and in his workshop for some time now. Behind these were several cases of oil, fuel, and air filters, and his biggest prize of all, a half full thirty five gallon drum of motor oil.
He flipped his keys to Janet, saying "Do me a favor, hun.... go inside, unbolt the garage door, and bring me out that wagon... gotta get this stuff inside." He went back to unloading, next grabbing a boxful of preserved foods that he'd traded for in a small town in Indiana. It was a fair amount of food, but he was a long way from being prepared for the bitter Michigan winter. Two cases of plastic 'cans' of coffee followed these, followed by two big boxes of pasta dinners, an assortment of alfredo, mac and cheese, and stroganoff in sealed foil bags. Both big boxes were wrapped in shrink wrap, so it might still be good. He'd found these hidden away in the back of an old, mostly looted grocery store. The last thing he pulled out was his rifle and two pistols.
