Good Fences

by Boyd Craven III

  “That’s because you’re thinking in your head how YOU would get it all done in a day. If you hadn’t noticed, we’re all in pretty good shape here and none of us are hurting. We’re skinnier than we were before, but other than that fat between your ears, it’s probably good for us,” Randy joked and I shot him the bird before he continued, “besides, if we split up into small teams, we can get this done in a hurry. Much faster than you’d think.”

  “Ok, then I guess I’ll drive the tractor out tomorrow to—“

  “No, I can do that,” Ken said, “I got a pretty good idea on mixing the ANFO. I think we’ll need you watching the neighbors with Lucy. Either that or Randy and Brenda.”

  “You guys pick, I’m starting to get tired.” I said.

  “You can count on me and my boys,” Brandon told them, a smile starting to touch the side of his mouth.

  “Ok. Not to sound too cheesy, but Go Team!” I joked, and was surprised when the silence was broken by Spencer:

  “Go Team!”

  Soon we were all chanting it, smiling and laughing.

  * * *

  The Sandersons kept an eye on the roads, much the same way we had done before. The four of them were spread out more than a mile away from the front gates, knowing how and when to alert the others and ghost into the woods. Ken drove the trailer out before first light, when we assumed the cretins would be asleep, and filled the barrel with the noxious mixture, mixing it thoroughly with a shovel before putting the lid on tight. He buried everything but the lid, which was about waist level with the road, and headed back to the farm before the sun had properly come up. My job was food. While Randy and Brenda went and spread the news through the subdivision, I slaughtered two of the smaller hogs.

  They were about 140lbs apiece and probably a good 2/3 of them was pure meat. The pigs that I’d been going to send to slaughter before this all happened had suddenly become essential to our survival and previously we’d only slaughtered them as needed for ourselves. Taking two out of the herd was going to hurt, but it wasn’t something that’d make us starve if we could bag a couple of deer. I planned on keeping my rifle with me when I drove the combine, remembering how often that Mr. Matthews said he almost had to run them over to get them to move out of the way.

  Then they could hunt the freshly harvested field when the deer came back for gleanings. It was a cycle that most of the critters had grown up with and I wasn’t about to break it, I’d just push back hunting season to feed the family.

  Since Ken was familiar with explosives, he was given a hand drawn map, a pry bar and a heavy hammer, and took off on the quad to go get the dynamite and blasting caps or fuse. Things were starting to come together nicely when I heard Brenda yell, “Hey country boy, need some help around here?”

  I looked up and there was Pete’s wife, holding hands with her lawyer husband, followed by Randy, Brenda and what had to be most of the survivors.

  “I didn’t think you liked guns?” I asked the lawyer.

  “I’m here to help with food or anything else you need. I guess I’ve sort of changed my way of thinking for a lot of things, but I don’t have the tools to help. Arguing in a courtroom is sort of pointless now,” he looked me in the eye without a hint of pride.

  I looked at them all in shock. “You all came here to help?”

  “We’re neighbors. We work together or we die together,” George Jr. said.

  I almost choked on what was either a sob, a gagged on a June bug. I blamed it on a June bug. Damn, that hurt. For a long time I’d wanted to keep them all out, to keep them from eating up all the food that we needed for survival. The only thing that kept me from losing it entirely (June bug, June bug!) was the fact they’d tried to storm the gate and take it by force and, if I’d let them do that early on, they would have literally eaten all the food and left us high and dry.

  One lady I only vaguely recognized from church spoke up, “I lived in that sub down the road. What you’re doing… I left there because of those animals. I’d rather die than go back to them. What you’re trying to do, it’s a good thing.”

  Now I couldn’t blame the June bug. Guilt washed over me and Randy and Brenda took over. Lucy called to me in concern and came running with Spencer on her hip. I wasn’t crying, but I was gasping at air, trying not to. It was a shock and I’ve been an emotional mess ever since the event happened. Actually, that isn’t quite true, since Cathy died if I really want to be honest.

  “C’mon guys, first things first, let’s go pick ya’ll a couple bags of corn. It should be about perfectly ripe now for a big bar-b-q, let’s let Brian work on them hogs before they go bad and we’ll have a cookout tonight!” Randy yelled.

  There were cheers and they all pulled plastic bags out of their pockets and were led up the hillside.

  “What’s wrong?” Lucy asked, reaching my side.

  “Things just hit me funny. You know, they’re thanking me and all of you for bringing them in and giving them food, for making a plan to try to save us all,” I said.

  “Well, that’s all true,” Lucy said, moving Spencer to her other side.

  “What about in the beginning? We ran them off at gunpoint, even shot one of the neighbors when he…”

  “He shot at Randy. Self-defense. Besides, back then we couldn’t have helped them all. There was no way. I know it’s not kind to say, but… the die-off actually helped stretch the resources they had long enough for this corn to come in. I think after we beat this gang, we’re going to find that people are more forgiving than you think. Besides, don’t you have a bar-b-q to get ready?” she asked, pushing me with her free arm.

  I almost fell into the buckets of pig guts but laughed. The spell was broken and I felt ok again.

  “You’re right. I thought that, but I don’t know. It feels good to hear somebody else say that. I just—“

  “You try to save the world, dear,” Lucy told me, “and I love you for it.”

  She turned and walked back towards the house. I paused to consider that. If anybody would have been asked what my biggest character flaw was, that would have been it. In a no grid situation it can be fatal in some circumstances, but maybe it didn’t have to be a flaw. Maybe it was a positive aspect in the weird new world.

  I worked on processing until both pigs were hung. I fired up the smoker and hung the hams from the top frames, adding large cuts and slices of meat on the shelving. I was just finishing filling it and was adding the soaked wood chips when the group came back laughing, bags bursting full of corn.

  “You get everything you need?” I asked them.

  Nods and people yelling yes. We found an old kettle in the barn, cleaned it out and filled it with water. Propping it up with some cinder blocks, we built a fire underneath it until the old cast iron started glowing and the water boiled. One by one, people dropped in two ears of corn each until the large pot was almost overflowing. I waited for about twenty minutes and started pulling the shucked ears out with tongs and handing them back to the folks on the broad leaves they’d pulled off to serve as plates.

  I made a gross side note to self; should those broad leaves should be saved for TP? It was more to discuss with the group, but not when we were eating!

  When everyone had eaten their two pieces, they took turns throwing the cobs over the fence by the bar for the chickens and pigs. There was almost a riot of porcine bodies attacking the fresh corn and the few kids from the sub cheered and laughed. It took Randy, Ken and I to pull the big pot off so we didn’t put the fire out by spilling it… but then we laid several sections of rebar over the bricks.

  I hadn’t been smoking the pieces for very long, but it would add some amazing flavor. The ladies helped me cut sections into strips and we started cooking them over the rebar that was acting as a grill. I pulled out a big jar of salt from the stash and made sure it all got a liberal dosing. Processed foods have salt added to them, but one thing that we would have to mention to folks here is that they needed almost all they could
get now. The first piece was taken off the fire and I gave it to George Jr.

  He nodded, choked up. I gave him the bro nod back and went back to work. I couldn’t say it, but I’d forgiven him. It had taken me a long time and a lot of heartbreak, but later on when there weren’t witnesses or dust to get into my eyes, I’d tell him. Everyone lined up for their turn for food. The portions weren’t large by our standards, but it was more than they were used to. The high density fatty meat would provide them with a lot of nourishment and I hoped we’d have a few days to get them all ready before things went south.

  Ken was going to be the one organizing fortifications and fields of fire. He was also going to make sure those who couldn’t fight were kept back and safe. Some folks were going to be digging what would be foxholes in and out of the fence near the road. If the gang kept pushing on towards us after the explosion it would be up to the twenty something riflemen we’d been able to scrounge up.

  As dusk fell, I felt good. I didn’t feel so empty. Spiritually, I was feeling good again. Everyone had eaten their fill, and there was pork left over. We put that back in the smoker with what was left of the hams for another day and I said my goodbyes. I walked folks to the fence and showed them where we’d prefer them to come and go, and they all acknowledged that at the first sound of gunfire, they were to come running to help defend.

  Since I hadn’t checked my traps yet, I went north along the fence line until I found my first set in the ‘string’ as Mr. Matthews called it. There was another nice fat raccoon in it. I reset the trap with the setting tool, walked the dead ‘coon to the fence and checked on the rest. It was a good night and, in all, I got three more raccoons, one rabbit and one opossum. More than I could comfortably carry. It took me two trips and I was staggering from exhaustion when I brought the last of it in.

  “I’ll have my boys clean those and get them in the smoker. Those coons need to be boiled a couple times first though.” Brandon said.

  I nodded and we put the big pot back on the makeshift fire pit.

  “I can get it,” he told me.

  “Listen, your wife just…”

  “I need to keep busy,” Brandon interjected simply.

  I nodded in understanding and headed in. Lucy was waiting for me at the kitchen table, the soft glow of the monitor the only illumination in the downstairs.

  “Where is everybody?” I asked.

  “Sleeping. We were going to post a watch, but the last two days…”

  “If they didn’t come tonight, we’re probably safe?” I asked.

  “That’s what Ken thought. He’s going out at first light to set up the dynamite and the blasting caps,” she told me, standing and stretching.

  “Spencer give you any trouble going down?” I asked.

  “No, he actually fell asleep on his bed all on his own. Said that someday when he’s bigger, he’s going to be just like you,” Lucy said, putting her arms around me.

  I hugged back, smelling the sweet smell of her body near mine.

  “Ok, let me rinse off and then I’m going to pass out,” I told her, already trudging towards the bathroom.

  “Don’t you fall asleep on me yet!” Lucy called softly.

  “Oh?” I asked.

  “I got plans for you tonight,” she told me with a mischievous grin.

  If I survived the night, I thought, smiling to myself, I could survive anything. The gang would be no problem.

  21

  Ken and Kristen would be the ones to light the charges at the first sight of the gang. Kristen would give an abort signal if the women were traveling with them, but otherwise the timing and the boom were on him. He couldn’t sit right on the charges, which made timing tricky, and I only had about three hundred feet of wire that we’d cobbled together. It would have to be enough. The plan was for them to blow the small convoy and then ghost into the woods and do a flanking action while they snuck back in from the eastern fields, a ways away from the road if possible.

  Two days we waited. The construction of the foxholes had been almost effortless when Brandon reminded me we had the backhoe, and that was knocked out in half a day. The rest of the time was preparing, watching and listening. I also cooked everything I’d caught on my trap lines, and we feasted on corn. One thing I learned that I hadn’t known, was that you can soak it in water, then grill it with the husk on, or you can pull the husk back to the end, not remove it and then smoke it for a couple hours. You use the husk and the end to hold it over the fire to finish cooking. That way took a lot more time but it ended up being my favorite, especially with the pork grease dropping and releasing smell and flavor when it hit in the wood chip pan.

  Two days of solid food. Folks were starting to move with a little spring in their step. They rested as much as they could, so the dense calories were used to help repair and rebuild tissue, but it would be a long process. On the third day Ken went out to the traps, and I was almost excited at the prospect having another day of worry and uncertainty. We were all worried that nothing had happened yet, and were surprised that a forward observer or scout team hadn’t been checking us out already.

  “How would we know?” Ken asked and that stopped the conversation.

  We had discussed that it wasn’t military trained peeps and they would probably just come all at once and try to take the place by force. The same way they’d done over and over again, by the sounds of it. Lucy would hide with the kids near the root cellar when the explosion happened, so they would already be halfway to the fence if we yelled for a retreat. It was centrally located on the property, so even if the attack came past the road block and through the fences, she had a lot of room to escape with the kids.

  I was sweating and musing all of this when a loud explosion ripped through the air. In the distance I could hear gunfire, far more than just two people could offer. A moment later, I saw the plume of smoke in the distance.

  “Let’s go!” I shouted and ran towards the backhoe.

  I paused long enough to give Lucy a kiss and an ‘I love you’, gave Spencer a quick pep talk on being a good listener and kept going. The gunfire seemed to go on for minutes, then it slowed and stopped. We all got into positions and waited. I guess it was about ten or eleven in the morning, so there was more than enough daylight. I hoped that Ken and Kristen made it back.

  I picked up movement and swung my AR towards the eastern fence as two shadows went between the wires. I flicked off my safety only to put it back on when I recognized the buzz cut on the blocky figure. Ken. They double timed it to my location and both hunkered down.

  “There were six trucks, not three,” Kristen said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Six trucks with at least fifteen people between the truck and the bed. All armed,” Kristen panted.

  “Did you get them with the blast?” I asked them.

  “Probably at least two trucks, maybe three. They started firing into the woods almost before I could move. I got winged,” Ken said, showing me the scrape across his arm.

  “Tis only a flesh wound, ya baby,” I joked.

  Ken chuckled but Kristen groaned.

  “So we’re looking at maybe… sixty guys left?” I asked.

  Ken nodded.

  “Where did all the extra people come from?” I asked, almost in a panic.

  “Hard to say, maybe they merged with another gang. We have to be ready to bug out, this could get really hairy,” Kristen aid.

  “With the stalled traffic, how long do you think till they get here?” I asked.

  “I think they slowed down to check the dead, get their supplies. That’s what it looked like when we took off running.”

  I nodded; it made sense not to leave weapons behind. I was surprised, but not much. It was a pretty rough world, and any resource, no matter how small, could mean the difference between life and death.

  “Here they come,” a voice floated out of the darkness from one of the fox holes and engines could be heard.

  Our plan wa
s so simple I doubted it would work. We’d blocked the road knowing they had two targets. One was the farm, and the second was the fatter prize: the subdivision. They weren’t expecting much in the way of the farm we had reasoned, because there was probably a big family or extended family at most, and what would they be able to do against overwhelming odds like the gang? We’d divert them the way we wanted them to go, towards the locked gate. From around covered positions, we’d fire on them until they quit moving.

  Simple right? Didn’t work out that way so much. Above me, I heard the sharp crack of Brenda starting to pick at targets from far off and the neighbors with rifles, along with our group who was nearby, started shooting. With Brenda, I knew every shot was finding a mark, or it needed to. The plan was for one of us below to start reloading magazines until we engaged ourselves. Shit! I started as soon as an empty dropped down and had just gotten it topped off when I heard Ken start to shoot. I tossed the full mag up and got into my spot behind the tread of the big backhoe.

  Bloody, angry men started firing back at us.

  “Keep your heads down,” Ken yelled, “fire when you have a solid target.”

  His advice was spot on. I had a lot of ammo, but nowhere near what would be needed to sustain a big firefight. I’d made sure all of our people had everything they needed and, with Randy and Brenda bringing a bunch, we were pretty good for .223 or .556. In fact, I’d loaded two magazines out of my ten with the AP ammo that I’d gotten from Kristen. The rest of the neighbors had a hodgepodge of weapons, but some of them only had one box of shells total, that they had for hunting purposes. Some had shotguns, which was probably why they weren’t firing yet. All of them had been given ammo from my stash, and I prayed it would be enough.