by Casey Lane
Hearing his name, Sean’s head popped up from his cereal bowl in confused alarm. “Whatever Acadia says I did, I deny it!”
“Football, don’t feed my dog from your plate.” I walked away without another word, not responding to Rod’s soft chuckle and low, “Yes, ma’am.”
Suddenly ravenous, I passed out the work schedules for the day while scarfing down sausage links, a wedge of a cheesy egg dish, a lemon poppy seed muffin, Greek yogurt with sliced strawberries, and a tall glass of OJ.
Bobby clicked the TV to mute. Talking around a full mouth, I went over what the defense team had decided last night and our jobs for the day.
Everybody was asked to call the people approved on their lists. Anybody coming to the farm needed to arrive no later than 6:00 PM today, but I urged them to come sooner. I stressed that their chances to reach the farm safely dwindled the longer they waited. At 9:00 PM, we’d all congregate in the Red Rose Barn for our first community meeting. Everyone could officially meet each other at that time.
Sean sent me a grumpy look, but verified he and Coop had received many callbacks and confirmations from my mass email. We could expect some people to begin arriving this morning.
I did not look at Rod when I stated that Sean had my list of deliveries expected on the farm today. Sean often worked with Uncle Coop on repairs and knew how to weld. Sean and Quinn would be available to direct deliveries while Sean also worked on building steel window and door coverings for King House.
Liz and Jane grabbed food and left for the barn. They would help Deb organize the supplies purchased last night until the quarry trucks arrived at 8:30 AM for the next supply runs.
Liz gave me a reassuring squeeze in the mudroom, promising to make sure nobody was alone in the future. She ruined the moment by adding, “Except for you and your young stud over there. Him you should get alone every chance you get today.”
At my scowl, she whispered urgently, “My God, Acadia, this could be our last day alive! It’s not like you have to exchange rings. If you don’t want to get nailed against a barn wall, send him my way.”
“Or mine,” Jane called back from just outside the open back door.
“Yuk! Muth-er!”
“You weren’t supposed to hear that, Quinn!”
Quinn made sure her mother wasn’t looking and mouthed to me, “Or mine.”
I shook my head at her big grin.
Following Quinn out, Sean stopped by me with a smirk. “Since we’re talking about our last day alive, I guess I’d let him do me doggy-style. Woof, woof.”
I swore and crossed my arms to avoid bloodshed. “All of you, just go get busy.”
Liz laughed. “Hey, that was my next line.”
They finally left me in peace, although I now had an unsavory image in my mind of them all vying over a resplendently nude Rod in a giant bed. The image was complete with draped mosquito netting. Rod was inspecting the shape of all their asses while he murmured for them to take their time--there was plenty of him to go around.
My mood was dark, when a few minutes later, the rest of us started walking as a group out to the parking area to our trucks. The last to leave the kitchen, I told Rex to guard the house and turned to see Bobby had lagged behind.
Bobby’s black hair was short and his beard closely groomed. He was intelligent, good looking, in shape, and had a friendly, if somewhat serious, personality. I’ve never seen him anything but quietly confident around the ladies. He and Sean were best friends, but Bobby was straight and dated often. I’ve met several of his girlfriends over the years, but he must be a hard man to pin down because no woman had lasted longer than a few months. Maybe there was something in the water at King’s Farm that kept the males single for considerably longer than average.
Bobby cleared his throat. “I didn’t write their names on my list, but there are seven single guys from the quarry that we should ask to come here. All can shoot and they have other skills we could use.”
I thought a second and then looked up at Bobby’s patiently watchful face. “I’m going to be straight with you, Bobby. There is no place on King Farm for men who are fan boys of the Robert Winters style of management.”
He nodded in understanding. “I hear you loud and clear, Acadia. These men,” his lips quirked a little, “are definitely fan boys of the Bobby Winters management style.”
I smiled. “Then as long as we’re clear, ask them. What do you know of your father’s plans?”
I didn’t usually put Bobby on the spot with personal questions about his dad, mainly because I didn’t give a damn, but these were not usual times and Robert’s a viper nourished at my bosom.
He answered easily, “The only thing he’s mentioned to me is staying at his house.”
“And are you?” I inquired.
Bobby chuckled, but looked off into the distance over the yard. “Let me rephrase. My Dad is staying at his house, I was not invited.”
I raised my brows. “Ah, punishment for being the disloyal son last night after you arranged drivers for me?”
Bobby met my eyes and agreed dryly, “That, and for being born.”
I smiled in empathy. “Hey, I’m punished for existing, so does that makes us special?”
“I’ve always thought so.”
We both laughed, although I felt bad for Bobby. This was his own dad we were talking about who treated him like dirt, instead of a cherished son. I knew any hurt and confusion Bobby felt as he grew into manhood had long ago turned into a distant, cold disrespect, but still, Robert was such a weasel prick.
I gave Bobby a hard hug. “I have always been proud to claim you and Sean as my little brothers.”
My most recent addition to the ‘little brother” category flashed across my brain, and in the most inappropriate way a sister could ever think of a brother. I was pretty sure Rod was incredibly endowed in the penis department. An OCD part of me wished I could simply verify this fact with the girls without them drawing any unwanted conclusions, or making them go nuts with lust. I slapped my forehead to dispel that train of thought.
Seeing that I’d startled Bobby, I quickly hugged him again and added, “I’d be really upset if you decided not to stay with us here, no matter what that idiot dad of yours wants.”
He chuckled and hugged me back. “No need to smack yourself, I’m staying here.” He muttered near my ear, “My dad is even dumber than you think, but thankfully it won’t matter anymore.” Bobby dropped his arms, but smiled down into my face. “I’ve always thought of you as my family, Acadia, and I love you, too.”
To lighten the suddenly serious mood, I teased, “Now don’t go putting words in my mouth. Who said anything about me loving you and Sean?” I didn’t follow up on Bobby’s obscure comment about Robert, since I knew he’d been smearing my name. “But hey, I’m glad you’re staying. If we live through today, I have plans to form a council at tonight’s meeting to run things on the farm. I want you on it.”
He stopped laughing and said, “If we live long enough, I’d be interested in hearing more about this council. Are you going to be the leader?”
“Of the council? Oh heck no.” I put my arm through his as we walked to catch up with others. “I know my limitations. I’m terrible at politics.”
Bobby gave me a sideways look, but said nothing. I grinned up at him and patted his arm a final time before we parted. Rod was standing in a circle with Ray Dean, T-bone, and Barbara. As those three were talking and gesticulating at what they were seeing outside, Rod had been quietly observing me with Bobby. He didn’t smile when he caught my eye, but turned his head to listen to Barbara.
Good. I hoped he thought I was flirting with Bobby.
It wasn’t completely light out yet, but it was predicted to be another warm, beautiful autumn day. We all agreed to split up and meet again in a few minutes at Hwy 52.
After hearing Deb call Barbara a whore, I thought it best to keep the younger girl with me. The football gang hadn’t seen King Farm in the da
ylight and they would get the quickie tour on the way to Hwy 52. That was the reason I’d reassigned Sean to stay back on the farm, instead of being my partner like I’d told Rod.
The rest of the men went to gather tools, although Gary stayed with us. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to him yet, but smiled in his direction. His smile was wan in return, but I could hardly blame the guy. I was barely capable of functioning the morning after Law died.
Barbara came up beside me and did a little pirouette of a jump. She did a full circle while taking in the outside of King House from where we stood in the car park area.
The shopping group had all scored some new clothes last night. Barbara was wearing tight jeans and lightweight jacket over a scooped necked shirt that showed plenty of cleavage. She did wear lots of black eye makeup and her wavy blonde hair may come from a bottle, but Deb calling Barbara a whore was way too harsh. Many girls had the same look as Barbara and going to a bar hardly made the girl a whore.
Barbara’s smile was full of relief. “I see now what Quinn meant when she said King House was safe. Except for the kitchen wing, you’d need a step ladder to reach the first floor windows and the basement windows are so tiny only a baby zombie could slide through!”
I chuckled, even as I cringed at the idea of an ankle-biter zombie slithering around the cellar. “Yeah, the kitchen wing was an addition about ten years ago. The basement under the original house is huge, but more like an old-fashioned root cellar. I use a lot of the space down there, and in the underground passage connecting to Red Rose Barn, as storage for supplies.”
T-bone smoothed his thin mustache with a finger and thumb while he looked from the house to the back view of Red Rose Barn. “Underground passage? Was that built for the underground railroad back in Civil War days?”
“No, the farm was homestead during the Civil War, but this house wasn’t built until the 1890’s. Primarily it was used to get back and forth to the Red Rose Barn during heavy snowfalls. Can you imagine what a bitch it was getting around during a Minnesota winter back in those days?” T-bone, the Georgia boy, was evidently not a happy transplant because he groaned at the thought. “But the King’s were a crafty bunch. The underground passage was kept a family secret in the case of an emergency.”
Ray Dean asked eagerly, “Can we go down there?”
“Sure, I’ll give you the inside tour tonight, after we’re done working outside today.”
Rod had been standing back and checking things out, but listening attentively. “You mentioned the festivals and renting out the barn for special events like weddings, but do you have other businesses as well, Acadia?”
The first rays of the morning sun poked through the light cloud cover. Against the black background of his shirt, Rod’s long hair created a glittering gold nimbus that caused me to put up a hand to shade my eyes. No matter my careful squinting, I could not detect one dark root along the bright blonde of his middle part.
“You got somethin’ wrong with your eye?” Ray-Dean asked, as he elbowed T-bone. “Because if you do, you mustn’t-touch-it!”
The linebacker’s low chuckles were nasty while Gary and Quinn looked at them in bafflement; not getting what was so funny.
As usual, I ignored the sniggering, dirty duo. I didn’t need my girlfriend’s help after all. I had come up with a way on my own to get Rod out of my head and to put him off from harassing me. No man with an ounce of pride could want a woman who disdained him publically in front of other men.
I haughtily answered Rod’s question in a way that if he thought me being bitchy was cute, he’d soon think me drop dead gorgeous. “What possible difference does it make now if I had other businesses? Come on, everybody, I don’t know about Rod, but I don’t have time to stand around flapping my lips like a bunch of gossiping girls.”
Without looking back, I kept walking towards the Cadillac.
Ray Dean rushed to whisper loudly to his friends, “She’s probably a little tuckered out. Don’t take her mean, bitchy ways to heart none because I haven’t and now we’re real good friends.”
Barbara protested faintly, “She’s not mean exactly…”
T-bone’s admiring growl overrode her, “Woman’s one of the biggest bitches I’ve ever met.”
Rod’s soft snicker made me walk faster.
Yeah, with friends around like Ray Dean undoing my good work, who the heck needed enemies?
I noticed the brothers coming out of their bunkhouse carrying shovels and weapons over their shoulders. Hugh had an axe, Ian a machete, and Kevin had a long spear of heavy iron, as well as something brown clamped under one arm.
“Yo’, Football!”
I heard Rod’s laugh behind me at that name. “Yeah, Little Canada?”
Kevin’s grin grew a mile wide. “Heard a rumor you’re staying on the farm with us. That’s awesome, man.” Kevin threw something and yelled, “This is for you, so you don’t get rusty!”
Rod reached up and caught the overthrown football with one hand. “Dude, I’m touched.”
Hugh dropped his shovel and axe. “Kevin, you little buttwipe, that’s my Brett Favre signed football!”
That was some sort of man signal. As they walked to their respective trucks, the guys all shouted friendly insults while they tossed the football around to everybody but Hugh.
Gary came up to my side, and after I introduced him to Barbara, he asked for a minute of privacy with me. Barbara didn’t hesitate to join the men.
I didn’t bother asking him how he was doing. His wife had died and life sucked. “What’s on your mind, Gary?”
Gary’s pale blue eyes were clear this morning, but there were dark circles of fatigue underneath attesting to a sleepless night.
“I’ve thought over what I should do. If I’m welcome, I’d like to stay here with your group on King Farm.”
I glanced up from giving his shotgun a dirty look. “That’s great. You’d be welcome anyway, but we can really use your skills as a doctor.”
He nodded, two vertical frown lines appearing between his blonde brows. “Seeing the news, the hospitals are war zones. Your group will be trying to save many uninfected people over the next few days. If I can help you and be of use...”
Not answering immediately, I wasn’t sure where Gary got his idea that was our mission. After the people we had invited arrived on the farm by this evening, I had no intentions of opening the gates to prevent the exact opposite of what he said. King Farm was going off the radar, not turning into a beacon for hungry refugees.
I hadn’t randomly picked out of thin air the number of people ideally needed to have on King Farm. It was after studying endless books of survival that I had applied that information to decide one hundred people, consisting mainly of healthy adult men and women, would be the initial number to defend the farm and to build a community in the event of a disaster of this magnitude.
The odds were, a larger group than that would get us all killed in the beginning phase of trying to survive. A larger group would attract too much attention from not only the infected, but from the have-nots. More than one hundred people would be too hard to defend, too hard to feed and house, too hard to outfit with weapons and train, and be too unwieldy to mobilize for escape.
On the flip side, if your group was too small, you risked getting attacked and easily overtaken for your supplies and weapons. If that didn’t happen immediately, a small group was good for being on the move, but would soon be exhausted trying to provide the manpower needed to do all the work necessary to defend and build a safe community. Exhausted people defending your back got you killed.
Between our calls to family, friends, and the mass email I sent, and allowing for attrition, we had already asked over one hundred people to King Farm.
One of the lessons every book I read on survival couldn’t stress enough was how to calculate the food needed for the size of your group to survive. You must have a food and water supply on hand that could be rationed over a minimum of three years
without being resupplied. There were several good reasons for that ironclad rule, but the top two were you could not depend on food that may or may not be able to be scavenged later, or food you planned to grow in a future garden.
For sure the apocalypse was no place for the tender-hearted. I hadn’t done my extensive research, pored over my lists, and built up my supplies for years just to fuck it all up when faced with reality.
Gary, brooding over his own thoughts, took my silence for acquiescence and went on, “I’d like to have the use of a car this morning for a couple of hours. When I return, I can start setting up a medical clinic and an area for quarantine.”
I crossed my arms and observed Gary’s face carefully; aware he was smart enough to dangle that treat in front of me to accomplish his own ends. The moment we met last night in the parking ramp, it was plain to see that Gary was a man used to being in charge. I have no problem with alpha males, as long as they have rational brains. Whether Gary could be content in charge of only his medical world, or if he needed to control the rest of the world, still remained to be seen.
I worded my response carefully. “Would you be willing to give your promise that you’re not going back to your house today? I’m truly sorry about Karen. If it was only the threat of zombies, I’d go with you, like I came over last night when you called for help. But we can’t afford you’ll get detained by a vigilante neighbor or arrested--anything stupidly crazy that could get you infected. We don’t know each other very well, Gary, so I won’t pretend it’s because I care so deeply about you personally.” Gary’s head shot up in surprise. I shrugged lightly and smiled. “I’m sure I’ll come to love all your sterling qualities as a man soon enough, but like you said, the hospitals are war zones right now. Your talents are much too valuable to us, so please don’t go getting yourself killed.”
He grimaced faintly even as he agreed. “You have my word. It’s painful, but upon reflection, I do understand that I can’t go home today. I’ve been in contact with some of my surgical team. There’s a nurse who’s moved up here from Houston to keep working with me. I’d like to bring them to King Farm.”
