“What is it hon?”
“That little dip with the double doors. I never noticed that before.”
“Oh that, it’s the old staircase to the root cellar.”
“I never saw another set of doors down there.”
“My grandparents said it was blocked off when they were kids. I checked them out when I got the property. Just opens to an old block wall.”
“None of the root cellar has any brickwork, just mortared field stone.”
“Hm. I don’t know. We’ll check it out sometime.”
Blake was trying not to spoil the moment and loved how close they were together. He was about to make another suggestion, but the rumble of the Dodge D filled the air and they both scrambled up, brushing each other off before jogging back to the front porch. Lisa was still scolding Bobb,y by the sound of voices and they sat on the porch and tried to look innocent as Duncan and Weston pulled to a stop.
“Since you’re both sitting there, I’m going to assume you figured things out?” Duncan asked, stepping out with Weston following suit a moment later.
“Bobby spilled the beans. Lisa’s not too happy about the boys though,” Sandra told them, trying to keep a straight face.
“Yeah, you may want to duck when you walk in there Weston,” Blake told him and almost laughed at the pained expression on his face.
“You didn’t tell your mother?” Duncan rounded on him.
“No, she wouldn’t have approved.”
“Thank you, both of you,” Sandra told him, trying to change the subject.
“Just a small part of what we owe you guys. What time is the party? I want to try to get a nap in now the heavy lifting is all done.”
“How about night fall?”
“Okay then, I have plenty of time.”
He gave them one long look before opening the front door. Lisa’s voice immediately changed volume and he closed the door, cutting off the worst of the chewing out from everyone else’s hearing.
“Think we should give them a minute?” Duncan asked.
“I would,” Blake picked up their forgotten plates and put them on the railing so he wouldn’t forget them when it was safe.
“Hey Daddy, we found something of a mystery. Want to check it out so we can let Lisa vent?"
Chapter 5 -
Duncan was unimpressed with the walled off section once they got the doors open. The mortaring on the blocks was old, older than he was. He promised to look things over in a day or two, and make sure the food storage was going to be safe from outside entrances. That was his biggest fear; using the cellar as a last resort refuge only to have somebody push their way in from the outside. That morning, they had left the approach to the lane unattended, they were all ready to head back to the house and make sure everything was okay. And that Lisa hadn’t killed off her sons.
Both boys were smiling, though shamefacedly. Lisa gave the rest of them a smile before fixing her resting angry face on her boys.
“You know, this is supposed to be a day of celebration,” Duncan gestured to her.
Lisa’s face transformed when she caught sight of Duncan. She’d meant to give him a little bit of the snark she’d shared with her boys, but something about the man had been getting to her, and it was all she could do not to repeat the hasty kiss she shared with him over and over. Her husband had been gone for a long while, and there’d never been another love. Something about the big burly preacher tugged at her heartstrings. She’d held back, but she could tell by the way he gave her a kind smile, or his hand would brush hers, that he shyly had returned at least some sense of fondness. She shook her head to clear it.
“It is. I just wish you three would have let me in on the scheme.”
“Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if we did that, Mom.” Bobby told her, turning to put an arm about her as she stood on the front porch. “You would have screamed at us not to go and woken up everybody.”
“I would have not…”
“You would have, Mom. Really, we’re not your little boys anymore. We’ve grown. I’ve been in the police department for a few years now, and Bobby was ready to head off to West Point this fall,” Weston told her, a sardonic smile stretched across his features. “Besides-“
“You’re always going to be your mother’s babies.” Duncan’s booming voice closed the subject. “Now Lisa, how about the surprise that we setup for the kids?”
“Your surprise?” Sandra asked her Dad, turning to poke him in the ribs.
“Yeah, what’re you talking about?” Blake gave him a puzzled grin.
“Well, your bride has to have a beautiful dress.”
“But we don’t have anything like that…” But Sandra’s voice trailed away as Lisa smiled big and dragged her into the house, shutting the main bedroom door.
“Uh, Duncan?”
“Just go with it kid. Come on Cayhills, let’s set up the picnic. We’ll cook food as we go later, this is going to be a country style wedding, and I’m going to need you all to get scarce so Lisa and I can work on getting everything all set.”
Duncan Lisa and Sandra all headed inside. Blake just looked at the Cayhill boys and then shook his head and headed out to the barn, trailing close behind. Blake wondered if they'd help set everything up, it was apparent that they spent all of their time physically moving things instead of moving all the trucks up to compound, Blake filled in Bobby and Weston on the idea he had and they readily agreed so they set to work.
"You know, this is supposed to be her wedding day. And you’re lining up all kinds of work," Bobby complained, only halfheartedly.
"Yeah, yeah I know. We have to get the rest of the food up here. I never went through the rest of the truck; did you see anything that looked interesting?"
"Yeah, we snagged some of that camping gear and some of the things from the hardware section are on the pallet.
"Was there anything good?"
"The hardware pallet had stuff that looked like it would be interesting; I got enough wire and miscellaneous fittings from the hardware pallet to make a set of snares," Bobby said excitedly.
“You two know how to make snares?” Blake asked them.
“Well, no,” Bobby said, “We were figuring you did,” Weston finished.
“I do. Let’s get the truck and trailer up here. Then I’ll show you two how to build them. It’s pretty easy stuff.”
“Don’t you have to get ready?”
“Honesty, I have time, and if I don’t stay busy…” Blake’s voice trailed off as he looked at the house.
“You’ll run from the altar?”
“With her Dad as the preacher to boot? I’d be double damned.”
They all laughed at that and Blake grabbed his long gun from the house and walked down the lane towards the stashed truck. It would take them awhile, but Blake felt a nervous excitement and had extra energy to burn. It was like a pressure had built in his chest and it was both a wonderful and scary feeling at the same time. If he stopped to think how much his life was about to change again, he was worried he’d die of fright. The Cayhill men kept up a constant muted chatter, walking ten to fifteen apart, picking their way slowly using the trees for cover.
In this silent new world, every sound was magnified, and they whispered back and forth, marveling how far sound travels. They took the opportunity to move quietly, and they moved off the lane so Blake could show them how he moved silently in the woods. He advised them to always look at the layout and plan a pathway. Choose a path if possible where you aren’t stepping on dry brittle leaves, stepping on brush, etc. With the mental plan in place you move slowly at first, heel to toe, feeling the ground under you. Using natural game trails, avoiding branches to brush against you and every other trick he could think of, to keep them quiet and not leave their scent around.
These were basic things he learned in a lifetime of hunting and the school of hard knocks. Once they were shown this way of walking, they practiced awkwardly, and although it took them a
while, they made it to the trucks with only scaring up one deer, which ran off and snorted at them, stamping one foot on the ground.
“Probably caught our scent. If he would have seen us, he wouldn’t have stomped.”
“Why didn’t we shoot it?” Bobby asked just as quiet as Blake’s whisper.
“I don’t want to process today. I got plans for later on,” he winked.
The route back up to the homestead required somebody to walk in front of the truck, to disarm and reset the traps. One guy could do it, but with three of them, it went quite a bit faster. Blake noticed gaps in the traps that he wanted to address later and brush he wanted to drag in front of trees pockmarked by buckshot from when the gang had come after Lisa. Bobby reset the traps and Weston was driving the second pickup.
Everyone breathed easier once they got past the shotgun rat traps. Those things were just as dangerous to them as they were to somebody tripping them. When they were finally through, they all breathed easier and they started to unload everything onto the front porch. None of the Cayhill boys dared enter inside the house, and Blake wasn’t in a hurry now either. They stacked cases of food, camping and fishing gear and some of the hardware items nearby. Blake held back and smiled at some of the snare building stuff and motioned for Bobby and Weston to follow him.
“Looks like we still have some time to burn,” Bobby said, wiping sweat off his face.
“Yeah, let me give you the rundown on building some snares. Maybe you can try some out. First thing you have to do is cut some of this cable into usable lengths.”
“How do you know what size to use?” Weston asked.
“Well, for rabbits and squirrels, you only want a small hoop for their head. Maybe this big,” he held his hands together forming a circle about four inches, “Then you want at least ten inches of cable before you have whatever you’re tying it off of. That way your wire goes farther. Or for hogs, maybe a hoop about a foot or so, leaving the cable about 6’ long to tie onto something sturdy. ”
“Wait, if you can snare hogs, can you snare deer?” Bobby was all smiles.
“Well, it’s illegal to snare deer…” then a dawning realization lit up his face. “Wait… I guess that doesn’t apply anymore. If smell carries forever, I’m sure the sound of us hunting meat would as well.”
“Oh yeah. I’m sure it did. Folks would be foolish to come up this way after you guys took out those invaders. It probably sounded like World War Three going on.”
“How do the critters not pull out of the snare?” Weston asked, having made a loop with his hands and watching how the wire slid easily.”
“Well, we don’t have Camlocks. We’ll have to improvise.”
“Camlocks?”
“It’s a brand name of snare fitting. It pulls tight, won’t let go and strangles the animal. Never could legally use them on the bigger critters, but now…”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Nope.”
They went through the hardware pile and found some galvanized L brackets with a single screw hole in them about ¾ of an inch. Then he dug through the fishing supplies and pulled out several packages of lead sinkers in a tear drop shape. He slid the sinker on a piece of 5/16” cable, slid the cable through the bracket’s hole. He then made a small loop and pulled the sinker down the line until he slid the end of the cable through it. He pulled out as much slack as he could, leaving a little bit of the cable end hanging out and then put the sinker on the edge of the work bench and hit it several times, flattening the lead. He ran the free end of the cable through the remaining eye hole of the bracket and took the end and slid a sinker on it, made a small loop on the end and hammered the sinker flat.
“It’s the wrong time of the year for walnuts, but you soak the green husks in water and make a dye out of it. It gives the snares a camo’d look. The small loop here is where you tie off the snare to a tree, log or whatever. You can build smaller snares for rabbits and squirrels, but those are usually spring loaded and you won’t need something to make it lock.”
Weston took the completed snare and put his arm through the loop and pulled it tight, feeling the wire hold firm. “Do you think a hog could break this?”
“Or what about a deer?” Bobby asked.
“Well, I think the cable will hold, the sinkers and the bracket are the weakest points, but you don’t have to hold them forever. They’ll weaken fast when their air is cut off. I’ve never snared a hog before…”
“But you have with deer?” The former Greenville Police Officer asked him, smiling as Blake squirmed.
“I’ll plead the fifth, officer.”
They all chuckled at that and made a variety of snares as the hours passed. Bobby figured out how to put a bend in the line so at rest, so the snare would stay open at the right length of the loop they wanted to make. They then rolled everything back up and talked about setting them, baiting the pathways when they were interrupted by Duncan.
“Blake, it’s time.”
Chapter 6 –
The one piece of advice that Blake remembered was to not lock his knees as they stood there. Duncan recited the service by memory and the Cayhill clan stood as friends and witnesses. They didn’t have rings to share, but under God’s law, two became one. Sandra nervously initiated the kiss when the final words were spoken and when the kiss deepened, Duncan grunted and then cleared his throat several times before Blake pulled back, his eyes dazed.
“You two, uh… Your honeymoon hasn’t started and…” Duncan sputtered. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Blake Jackson.”
“Your last name is Jackson?” Sandra asked him in almost a whisper.
“Yeah, where do you think the J from Back Country J came from?” He tried to talk out of the side of his mouth, but everyone heard and they were all smiling.
“It’s your last name now too, Sandra.”
“Daddy,” Sandra’s smile was radiant.
They feasted on smoked ham and baked potatoes seasoned with wild onion that Lisa had found a patch of. Bottles of fruit wine were passed around and soon the two newlyweds took a pair of quads from the barn and drove to the top of the rise, where the camper was parked.
“You know, I have to find me a girlfriend,” Bobby said, watching the quads disappear in the distance.
“You have to find a life first,” Weston joked.
“Want to go set some of those snares?”
“Yeah, let’s hurry before Mom-“
“No you don’t,” Lisa interjected. “Blake and Ms. Sandra may be on a short vacation, but we still have a ton of food to put up. You can go play tomorrow,” her voice was kind, but firm.
“Yes ma’am,” they chorused.
Duncan smiled at the adult boys listening to their mother, full of respect with how they spoke and acted around her. He hadn’t seen that often and remembered all the kind smiles she’d dropped in his direction, even the kiss she’d given him the night they’d decided to ask them to move in with them. He mentally went through the list of tasks they still had to accomplish. His healing gunshot wound had almost run them out of medical supplies entirely and they were almost ready to start boiling clean sheets and foraging for herbs but he knew with the winter coming, they would have to make some more trips off the homestead.
Much like his daughter, Pastor Duncan loved lists. He knew that ‘The Homestead’ as they had all started calling it was almost perfect for weathering out the storm of fear and violence that would be sweeping the rest of the country. He had been the only man in his daughter’s life till now, and today would be the happiest and saddest day he could remember, so he sat on the front step of house and pulled out a notebook and started jotting things down.
Food – Any and all. Never have enough for now.
Clothing – Boots, all weather gear. Blake doesn’t have clothing for everyone, but Lisa and Sandra would be fine for a while.
Bleach – Sterilizing and making suspect water clean and safe. Just in
case.
Medical Supplies – Any and all
Ammunition – Ammo or reloading supplies. Remember to ask Blake if he has that kind of stuff.
Guns – We have plenty, but common caliber would make life easier.
Livestock – Chickens! Maybe a cow, rabbits? Ducks?
Survivors – We need more help here. Our traps saved us the first time, we wouldn’t be able to do that every time.
He was startled when somebody sat down next to him and scooted in close. Lisa pulled herself tight against him and gave him a one armed hug.
“You know, you never get to keep them,” she said, referring to Sandra.
“I know. It’s been just her and I for so long now. I’ll get over it.”
“What are you writing out there?”
“Just listing out some things for the next time we leave The Homestead.”
“Let me see.”
She read in silence for a while and nodded. She handed him back the list and just sat there, looking off into the night.
“Do you think it’s ever going to get better Pastor?”
“Call me Duncan, and yes. I think it will. Not just yet though.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Faith,” he said, fingering the cross on his necklace, putting a beefy arm around her shoulders and pulling her in. “Just faith.”
Bobby and Weston awoke just as they heard Duncan closing the front door. He’d changed the linens out on the bed and had stayed in the little bedroom last night, and by the look of his camo, he was heading to go do his lookout duties. They both kept quiet and dressed quickly and eased out to the barn without disturbing their mother. She’d stayed up late talking to the big man, and neither of them had seen her take a shining to anyone since their Dad had died.
Ashes of the World: A Post-Apocalyptic Story (The World Burns Book 2) Page 3
