Nodding as he looked at Dino, Lance looked up at the farm. “You want point or cover?”
“I’ll take cover since I’m driving.”
Giving a nod, Lance eased out of the trees, bringing his rifle up but not pointing at the house in case someone was there. As Lance eased closer, he noticed the only animals he saw were chickens in a large chicken coop by the barn. The mobile home was the first building they came to, and Lance crept up on the porch, seeing the door was shoved inward.
Glancing down at Dino, Lance saw him panting and looking in the trailer. Feeling better but not lowering his rifle, Lance stepped in with Ian behind him. The inside was destroyed, and Lance quickly cleared and led Ian back out.
As they approached the back of the house, Lance came upon a body. He paused, studying it for a second. It was a man that looked like a farmer with salt and pepper hair with a small bullet hole between the eyes. Staring at the face, Lance thought he looked familiar then looked at his chest and saw blood stains.
Holding up his hand in a fist for Ian to stop, Lance knelt, looking closer at the chest, and saw two large bullet holes. You weren’t a stinker when you died; otherwise, we could smell it, Lance thought, standing up and moving slowly toward the house.
The back door was battered in along with all the windows along the back of the house. Stepping in the door, Lance paused, sniffing the air. He caught the faint odor of stinkers but nothing else. Glancing down at Dino, he relaxed when he saw him panting.
Walking in the house, they realized it had been breached by stinkers and was destroyed. Satisfied, Lance glanced out the front door and didn’t see anything. Stepping out, they headed for the barn and found it neat for a barn and empty of threats.
Stepping close to Lance, Ian whispered, “That man in the backyard was Mr. Ferguson.” Lance just looked at him, slightly shaking his head. “He asked if he could hunt on our property and invited us to go fishing in his pond,” Ian helped.
“Oh yeah,” Lance said, nodding. “He had those two hot daughters…ah, Cyril and Holly.”
Shaking his head, Ian chuckled, “Your little head has a great memory.”
“Dude, they were our age and hot. Holly had hooters bigger than my momma when she was only twelve.”
“I rest my case,” Ian said, moving out of the barn.
They moved back to the buggy and pulled it up to the chicken coop. Spotting a large fishing net beside the chicken coop, Ian grabbed it as Lance pulled the five animal crates off the back of the buggy. As Ian caught the chickens and passed them over, Lance put them in the crates. When they had twenty-six hens and four roosters, Ian stepped out, leaving the door open so the others could leave.
Strapping the crates down, they pulled the buggy closer to the barn and loaded the chicken feed in the trailer. When they were done, Ian tapped Lance. “See that?” he said, pointing. Turning around, Lance saw a large truck with a long flatbed trailer. On the trailer were a mini excavator and a track loader.
“Yeah,” Lance said. “I’m not blind.”
“We need that,” Ian whispered, looking around the barn.
“You know how much fucking noise those would make?”
“You realize how long that fucking greenhouse is going to take with just us using shovels? Lance, I’m sure we can make them quiet.”
Looking at the truck closer, Lance saw it was a Chevy 4500. “That truck is bigger than my dad’s. Just how do you think we would get them back? They can’t go fast, and we don’t know how to drive the damn things.”
“You can drive that truck.”
Slowly, Lance turned to Ian. “Bitch, I drove the last truck with a trailer. It’s your turn.”
“You already have practice.”
“We can’t do shit as long as that pile is there attracting visitors,” Lance huffed.
Ian walked away, picked up yellow and red cans, and brought them over. “We can burn the fuckers,” he said, holding the cans up.
“Before we even think about it, we have to clear that area out.”
Setting the cans down, Ian looked across the road. “That’s Mr. Ferguson’s. We need to check it out.”
“Are you crazy? This is an out and in run, not a sightseeing tour,” Lance whispered harshly.
“He has goats and pigs. I want to get what we need and not leave our little area until our parents get here.”
Turning away, Lance calmed down, looking around. “You have your little recorder?”
“Yeah,” Ian said, digging it out.
When Ian held up a small, digital video recorder, Lance motioned with his chin. “Walk around filming the barn. We can look at it later with the packing queen and decide what we need and how to take it.”
“Damn, that was smart,” Ian said, sucking in a breath. He turned and walked around the barn, filming as Lance followed. Before they left, Lance walked over to the big truck and opened the door. He saw the keys in the ignition as Ian came up to him. “The excavator and track loader have keys in them,” he said as Lance climbed down.
Nodding, Lance looked around figuring out how to pull out without backing up. Seeing he could do it, Lance motioned Ian to the buggy. They loaded up and drove quickly down the road to the Ferguson farm. As they got out, Dino looked at the goats running around inside the fence around the house.
“It’s intact,” Ian said, getting out.
“Yeah, that’s what worries me,” Lance said, keeping his rifle down but ready. As they walked to the gate, the goats ran to them. “I can’t believe you want goats.”
“Hey, we know how to milk them, and neither of us have time to mow, and these fuckers can eat some grass.”
When they opened the gate, Dino went in, and the goats scattered. They walked to the front door, and Lance lightly knocked as Ian looked in the window. “Dude, nobody’s here,” Ian said.
Trying the knob, Lance jumped when the door opened. “Up,” he said, bringing his rifle to his shoulder. They walked through the house, finding it was rather large with a basement but no signs that anyone had been inside for days. “Get your camera, and walk around. Make sure you open cabinets,” Lance said, moving to the front door, and pushed a goat out that was trying to come in.
After Ian quickly filmed every room, they headed out the back, and Lance pointed at some beehives at the base of the hill behind the house. “We need some of those,” Lance said.
Ian nodded. “Let’s check on the pigs and barn,” he said, still filming. Beside the barn was a Dodge dually, but there weren’t any keys in it. “There was a key rack in the kitchen; we’ll see if they are on it.” At the back of the barn was a large animal trailer beside a pen that led to a pasture full of cows.
“We aren’t taking cows,” Lance said, moving over to the pig pen.
“Duh, we don’t have the acreage for winter feed.”
As Lance walked up, the pigs all ran to the fence and grunted at him in anticipation. “Yeah, you’re hungry,” he said, moving to a shed beside the pen and found sacks of food. He grabbed one and dumped it in the feed trough. The pigs fought each other with several small piglets squealing as they got stepped on.
Lance grabbed another bag and dumped it in a different trough, and the pigs spread out, attacking the food. Seeing the water trough was empty, Lance traced down the water hose to see if by some miracle it was on. When he turned the valve, he jumped, hearing water flowing.
Stepping inside the barn, he saw Ian filming as he found a light switch and flipped it, but nothing happened. “Dude, power’s off,” Ian said, looking at him with the recorder.
“Well water is flowing; I just wanted to make sure.”
“They have solar panels on the house and batteries in the basement. I’m sure some of the house may have power, but I doubt anything out here,” Ian said. “How many pigs?”
“Thee boars, nine sows, and a few dozen piglets.”
“I know that chicken house we built last year is designed for thirty, but how many are you comfortable putting
in there?” Ian asked, still filming.
“No more than forty, and you do realize that will put us swimming in freaking eggs? There are only five of us. Rhode Islands are good layers and good for meat; we really have too freaking many now,” Lance said.
“I was just thinking we don’t know the age of any,” Ian said. “I’ll let these here go then, and we can get the feed when we come back.”
“So we have an incubator and start the flock over.”
Turning the camera off, Ian walked over and asked, “They have an incubator here we can get. How many pigs you thinking?”
“None,” Lance snapped. Ian just shook his head. “You know I hate the damn things,” Lance groaned. “I love the bacon and sausage, not the source.”
“How many?”
“Half, all the piglets,” Lance said, walking out. He saw all the pigs burying their faces in the water trough. Turning off the faucet, he moaned, “Let’s get home and figure out what we want to do.”
They drove back across the road and back up the draw behind Donald’s with Dino leading them like he knew they were heading home. “Done and on the way,” Lance called over the radio.
“About time, copy,” Jennifer snapped.
“Your girlfriend seems mad,” Lance said, holding on as Ian weaved between the trees.
Ian chuckled. “Show me a girl that’s not.”
“Stop at the draw where the pile is at,” Lance said, looking back at the cans of fuel. “You couldn’t find a five-gallon gas can instead of a bunch of little ones?”
“No, they only had five one-gallon cans of diesel. That two-gallon can is the biggest can of gas I found, and it’s mixed for a chainsaw,” Ian said.
When they reached the spot, Lance looked down into the valley. “I’m thinking walk down and sneak up on their ass and cap them then burn the pile.”
Shaking his head, Ian looked down the draw. “You realize that means walking back up this steep bitch.”
“We can carry the gas down with us and just come back up and leave,” Lance said.
“Fine,” Ian groaned. “How close you want to get?”
“Close enough to see if this hot shit is worth wearing.”
“Amen to that,” Ian said and got out. “This is the hottest March I can remember.”
Making sure Dino stayed close, they crept down the draw, and when they were a hundred yards away, their eyes started burning. “Fuck, that’s nasty,” Lance groaned, setting his cans down.
Trying not to cough as the smell hurt his lungs, Ian looked at Lance. “This is wrong on so many scales; I can’t even start to formulate my bitching.”
Dino let out a loud snort. “Dino, we’re trying to be sneaky, and that’s not it,” Lance said, holding in a cough. “Aw, piss on this shit. Ian, take left. I’m on the right; let’s just walk out, and if they haven’t noticed us at twenty feet, let’s just cap them.”
Ian nodded, pulling out his Ruger as Lance walked calmly down the draw. The closer they got, the worse the smell became. It felt like their lungs were burning. When they walked out of the tree line, the stinkers were thirty yards away, and all of them turned to the two bushes that walked out of the tree line with a big ass dog. None of them moved toward them, and many looked away.
When Lance was fifteen yards from the first one—a short, fat, naked woman—he raised his pistol. “Stinky fat ass bitch,” he said, holding his breath and pulling the trigger of the Ruger, which made a cough that split the quiet. As soon as Lance spoke, all of them started moving to them.
“You need to wipe your ass,” Ian said, shooting a young girl.
Trying not to cough as his lungs burned, Lance moved from target to target as his eyes watered. When he didn’t see any more, he said, “Ian, back up the draw,” still trying to hold his breath.
They took off running and passed the gas cans, moving further up the draw. “Fuck me, that’s nasty,” Ian coughed. “They are going to conquer the world with stink alone.”
“I think I coughed my nuts up,” Lance said and dropped to his knees, puking.
“Why’d you have to do that?” Ian groaned and dropped down, gagging.
Lance laid back, still not breathing deep because he could still smell them, but it didn’t burn his nose and lungs. “We have to move those bodies close to the pile and light it.”
“Fuck that. I’ll pour gas on them,” Ian said, looking down the draw. “Only one is not touching the pile.”
“Let’s get this done so we can leave,” Lance said, standing up.
“We are playing rock, paper, scissors to see who has to light it,” Ian said, struggling to get up.
With his eyes watering, Lance shook his head. “I’ll light the motherfucker. Come on,” he said as he grabbed the can of gas and took a deep breath then ran down the draw. When he had to take another breath, it actually hurt his lungs as he ran around the pile, pouring gas. He pulled out his knife and stabbed the can several times then tossed it on the pile and ran back up the draw.
After stabbing the can of diesel, Ian took off after him. When they were up the draw, they dropped down, gasping. “You think you can run back to light it?” Ian huffed, not wanting to breathe deep.
“Shit on that,” Lance said and reached around to the bottom of his small backpack and unzipped a pocket. He pulled out a road flare. “I’m throwing from here.”
“You’re still carrying road flares after almost getting us kicked out of the jamboree last year?”
“Hey,” Lance said, standing up, “the guide said we had fifteen minutes to get a fire going. Not my fault I’m smart and used a flare.”
“He was a punk,” Ian said, straightening up. “You think you can hit it from here?”
“We may have run over a hundred yards to get there, but that pile is sixty feet below us, and I have half a dozen chances,” Lance said, taking the cap off.
“You hit it, and I’ll buy you a teddy bear just to keep from going back down there,” Ian said as Lance pulled the tab, lighting the flare.
Rearing his arm back, Lance threw the flare in a high arc as hard as he could. “Doesn’t look like you’re going to miss it by much,” Ian said, watching the flare fall. When it was twenty feet over the pile, ka boom! sounded, knocking them down, followed by whoosh as a fireball lit up the area, sucking the oxygen out of the air.
“What kind of gas was that?” Lance said, shaking his head.
“If that’s super unleaded, that’s all I’m getting from now on,” Ian said, sitting up, and his mouth fell open. A pure blue flame covered the pile of bodies below them, and no smoke was coming from the fire. “Holy shit,” he mumbled.
Looking at Ian, Lance whipped his head and gawked, looking at the blue flame, and could see it rippling around the pile almost to the road. “Ah,” Lance stuttered, standing up and slowly looked at Ian, who was getting up and looking at him.
“We are so fucking stupid!” they yelled.
Chapter Five
“Hydrogen sulfide?” Jennifer said, looking at them sprawled out on the sectional.
“Yeah, sulfur doesn’t have a smell. The rotten egg smell comes from hydrogen sulfide, which is highly flammable,” Ian said.
“And toxic to breathe,” Lance said, trying to undo the laces of his boots, but finally gave up and flopped back on the couch.
Jennifer looked at them as they sat panting on the couch. “You two stay here. We’ll put the chickens up,” she said, but Allie and Carrie moved over to Lance, untying his boots.
“I don’t give a shit if we just cook the damn chickens right now,” Lance moaned, grabbing his chest. “My lungs feel like someone sucked them out my ass, washed them in bleach, then put them back.”
“Have one hot-ass fire in the valley to have a cookout. Just need barbeque sauce,” Ian said, pulling off his chest rig.
Seeing the girls struggle to take Lance’s boots off, Jennifer moved over and helped; then, they took off Ian’s. Standing up, Jennifer studied the two holding their
chests and breathing hard. “You two will not do anything else today,” she said, shaking her head. “Allie, Carrie, let’s go get the chickens out.”
Lance watched them leave and rolled his head until he could see Ian. “That was really stupid on our part.”
Giving a snort, Ian chuckled. “Yeah, most people would run away when they can’t breathe, but we screwed around the area.” Getting up, Lance walked to their bedroom. “Dude, you’re going to piss her off,” Ian warned.
“Just getting my laptop. I want to make sure we didn’t damage our lungs,” Lance said, walking in the bedroom and not really caring if Jennifer was pissed.
When the girls came back, Jennifer saw Ian and Lance looking at laptops. “Well, seems they don’t understand ‘do nothing,’” she mumbled, walking over.
When Jennifer stopped at the sectional looking down at them, Lance raised his hand. “Don’t start. I needed to know if we damaged our lungs,” he said, not looking up at her.
Fear spread over Jennifer’s face. “Oh my God, did you?”
“No, but we were close to passing out, and that would’ve caused damage,” Ian said, staring at his laptop.
“We’ll get some respirators out of the bunker so we don’t make that mistake again,” Lance said, finally looking up at Jennifer. “I hate to ask, but can you get us something to eat?”
Jennifer’s jaw hit her chest. “What part of ‘I’m part of this’ don’t you understand?” Lance and Ian looked at each other and then at her. She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you two think me and the girls don’t think we should pull our weight like do stuff you can’t or take care of our group when others are hurt?”
“Er, no, we just didn’t want you guys to think we were imposing,” Ian said hesitantly.
“Good,” Jennifer said, spinning around. “Carrie, Allie, let’s get food ready.”
When the girls left, Ian leaned over to Lance. “You notice girls are high strung.”
“High strung,” Lance snorted. “Shit, I’m starting to get scared to try talking to her, afraid I’ll set her ass off.”
Forsaken World:Coming of Age Page 6
