Viral Misery (Book 1)

by Watson, Thomas A

  Finished in the barn, Arthur headed over to the tractor and looked out into the field. “How in the hell did you get out again?” he moaned, looking at a juvenile pig in the pasture. “Three days in a row, pig. Any more and you’re going to be the first in line for bacon. That’s where the chickens are going.”

  Grabbing a bucket of feed, Arthur walked out into the pasture tapping the bucket and the pig darted over to him, oinking loudly. Patting the pig as it tried to get the bucket, he led the pig back to the pig pen and saw the bottom lock on the gate hadn’t been locked. “I know I locked that damn thing yesterday, just like the other three times,” Arthur mumbled, tossing the bucket of feed into the trough and the pigs in the pen charged the trough, fighting for position.

  Turning around to let the escape artist back in, Arthur stood spellbound as the pig forced his way in through the bottom of the gate. After the pig got back inside, Arthur locked the bottom of the gate. Hearing a piglet squealing, he climbed over the fence and spread the feed out in the trough.

  Grinning at the pigs, Arthur reached over to pat the escape artist. The escape artist moved back and then rubbed his snotty snout on Arthur’s hand. “Oh man, that’s gross,” Arthur snapped.

  He climbed out and went back and cranked up the tractor, hooking up to the mobile chicken coop. Stopping before climbing on the tractor, Arthur saw where the escape artist pig had rooted around the chicken coop. He pulled it out into the field where the escape artist had been rooting around and several days ago, where a flock of ducks had been. Unknown to Arthur, he had a visitor in his body after he swatted away a fly from his face as he hooked up the chicken coop. But this visitor was different from the one going around the world.

  Avian viruses can cross into swine and the escape artist had picked up the virus, but his body had altered it at one link in the chain of proteins. If there was ever a lottery one wanted to win, Arthur had won it, big time. The virus in his mucous membranes was now slowly shedding its shell to start replicating.

  Arthur’s prize, a much milder version of the virus, was in his system but would grant him immunity to the worst killer the planet had ever witnessed. And yet, Arthur would never know. The other lottery winners were the chickens he’d just parked over the spot where the escape artist had been rooting around. The pig had already infected them while rooting around their coop.

  Chapter Eight

  A thief discovered

  April 28

  Putting the tractor back in the barn, Arthur headed back to the electric buggy and put his work gloves on. After climbing in, Arthur headed to the main road that led to the house. Driving through the trees at the base of the rise until he reached the driveway, Arthur stopped and looked behind him to see the dogs. “You know, you let the pig escape again,” he told the four. The four dogs stopped, looking at him like it wasn’t their fault.

  With the sun now well up, he turned the buggy and headed for the gate and the dogs ran past him. When he’d reached the gate, Arthur found the dogs waiting. “Oh, you thought I wanted to race?” he said, getting off. Putting on his tool belt, Arthur grabbed the camera. Using the heavy bar gate as a ladder, he climbed up to replace the camera on the ten-foot-tall pole that the heavy gate was mounted on.

  Fifteen minutes later he was done and checked the camera on his smartphone, then headed back to the house. This time, he drove like a bat out of hell to beat the dogs. Pulling up to the back patio, Arthur gave a sigh of relief at not seeing Kong around. Walking in, he tapped off the daily chores and the camera.

  Grabbing another cup of coffee, Arthur made a mental list of what else had to be done today. That was what he loved so much about their property; it was so diversified that there was always something to do. Granted, Wendy was by far better in the greenhouses and gardening than he was; Arthur had learned from her.

  He had no problem working with the plants, but he wouldn’t touch her silkworms unless Wendy was standing right beside him. Preferably, telling him what to do.

  Carrying his coffee with him, Arthur headed to the garden and turned the irrigation system on. Finishing his cup, he headed to the greenhouse buried in the hillside. This greenhouse grew traditional crops using hydroponics. Of all the endeavors on the farm, the greenhouses used the most power, but with all the power generation on the farm, they still had enough to sell back to the power company.

  The buried greenhouse had a wall of Plexiglas windows that ran the three-hundred-foot length. From the ground, the windows ran up and sloped back to give them a twenty-foot ceiling and snow couldn’t build up, not that they had much snow, but Arthur had wanted to be sure. Just over thirty feet wide, they had over seven thousand square feet of hydroponics on the ground and a skywalk that had half that area.

  Checking the beehives, he found the bees busy working and left them alone. Checking the pumps and readouts, Arthur made a few changes and then headed outside. As he headed to the patio to get the buggy, his cellphone chimed. He pulled it out and smiled, seeing the camera showing him the gate view.

  Seeing a small semi on the screen, he tapped the screen as a man rolled down the window, sticking his head out. “Hey, Chuck,” Arthur said, tapping the screen again to open the gate.

  “Want me to pull up to the shop?” Chuck shouted over the diesel engine.

  Turning the volume of the speaker mounted under the camera to maximum, “Yeah, that’s good,” Arthur said and saw Chuck cringe back inside the cab. “Oh, guess that was too loud,” Arthur mumbled and turned the speaker back down.

  He walked to the shop and saw the delivery semi pulling a short trailer with one large wooden crate and another half the size of the big one. When Chuck stopped, Arthur saw a delivery forklift mounted on the back of the trailer.

  When Chuck turned the engine off, Arthur walked over. “Chuck, you didn’t have to bring your forklift, we could’ve used the track steer,” Arthur told him as Chuck climbed out.

  “We have the thing, so I’m going to use it,” Chuck laughed. “Hey, thanks for calling and telling me you had that big one coming and I could wait to deliver. Saved me some money, not having to make two trips.”

  “Sorry I took up some of your dock space for ten days,” Arthur said, shaking Chuck’s hand. Unfortunately for Chuck, he and Arthur had on gloves and Arthur had washed his hands and changed gloves, so Chuck didn’t get the lottery winning visitor.

  Waving his hand and brushing off the apology, “Where do you want ‘em?” Chuck asked, taking the straps off the crates.

  “Just set ‘em off on the ground and I’ll move them,” Arthur answered, following Chuck to the back of the trailer.

  “What did you get this time, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  Watching Chuck unlock the forklift, “The big one is a CNC machine I got from a government auction website. The small one is an industrial carder,” Arthur told him.

  Stopping the task of unlocking the forklift, “Is that like some kind of slot machine?” Chuck asked.

  Laughing out, “No, a carder is a machine that combs out fibers to process into thread and yarn,” Arthur told him.

  “Damn, learn something every day,” Chuck said, finishing unlocking the forklift. “Where’s the other half?”

  “She’s on a cruise,” Arthur answered, watching Chuck climb into the forklift and crank it up.

  Giving a loud laugh, “So, you’re living the bachelor’s life for a little while,” Chuck teased.

  “Hardly,” Arthur chuckled as Chuck lowered the forklift down. Chuck pointed at the ground near the shop and Arthur nodded.

  As Chuck offloaded the crates, Arthur went inside and grabbed a flat of eggs from the fridge. Taking them outside, he saw Chuck was reloading the forklift. “Damn, that was fast,” Arthur said, walking over.

  When Chuck climbed off the forklift, Arthur handed over the flat of eggs. “Here’s some eggs for you.”

  Taking the flat of eggs, Chuck grinned. “I almost brought your card machine just to get some eggs,” Chuck adm
itted, setting the eggs on the trailer. “Can I see that 1911 again?”

  Pulling his pistol out, Arthur ejected the magazine and racked the slide, ejecting the live round before handing it over. Chuck took the pistol tenderly. The metal finish looked like layered Damascus steel. “This is a work of art,” Chuck said in awe.

  “Yeah, it took me awhile to figure out how to make the rings like the pattern of Damascus steel,” Arthur told him. Arthur did have guns that were bought, but his pride and joy were the ones he had made. He had made several pistols, half a dozen ARs, and two rifles. The only thing Arthur couldn’t make were the super small springs. Large ones were no problem, but he still hadn’t figured out how to make the tiny ones consistently.

  “I saw one like this at a gun show a few years back and it had a price tag of twenty grand,” Chuck said, turning the gun over in his hands.

  “Hey, I thought about selling some. You can make your own gun as long as it follows all the BATF rules, but you can’t sell them ever,” Arthur said. “When I looked into making them to sell, I found out you had to suck fifty bureaucrats’ dicks and let another twenty fuck you up the ass without lube. Since I don’t like either option, I’ll just make my own.”

  Chuck busted out laughing as he stared at the pistol. “Yeah, you have to have permission on something that’s a given right under the constitution. How long did this take you?”

  “I can mill out the frame and barrel in a day. It’s the steel folding that is a pain in the ass. That takes me a few days.”

  Handing the gun back, “Will you let me know when you do another one? I would love to watch. Hell, if I could, I would buy one, just not for twenty grand,” Chuck said.

  “Tell you what, you find me a nice dozer for a good price and you can come out here when I’m making one. I’ll hold your hands and show you what to do, so you can say you made it,” Arthur offered.

  The open mouth grin fell off Chuck’s face. “What size dozer?” he gasped.

  “Something around the size of a D4, but it has to have the six-way blade,” Arthur answered and Chuck reached out, grabbing his arm.

  “My dad left me a 1989 D5. It’s got a six-way blade. All I do is crank it up every few months and move it around. It hasn’t done any work in years.”

  Raising his eyebrows, “How much you want for it?” Arthur asked.

  Pointing at the pistol in Arthur’s hands, “You let me make one of those with your help and we can call it even,” Chuck said.

  “When will you have a few days off?”

  With a content grin, Chuck leaned back on the trailer. “I have two weeks off at the first of June.”

  “Okay, let me know exact dates so I can gather up the steel.”

  “Some of the hydraulic hoses need replacing,” Chuck told him.

  Shrugging, “I can make hydraulic hoses,” Arthur laughed.

  “My vacation starts the first, how about I deliver the dozer on the third and I can make the gun?” Chuck asked.

  When Arthur nodded, Chuck clapped his hands as Arthur told him, “Sounds good.”

  Shaking Arthur’s hand, Chuck turned and grabbed the eggs. “Well, let me get back to work,” Chuck said, heading for the cab.

  Arthur headed to the patio as Chuck backed up and headed down the driveway. Pulling out his phone and tapping the screen, Arthur tapped the program for the front gate camera. When he saw Chuck drive through, he tapped the button to close the gate. “Momma will like the dozer,” Arthur said, jumping on the buggy.

  He checked the other greenhouses and finished the midday chores, then headed to the house to grab a bite to eat.

  It was after one when he stepped out the back door and saw Kong sitting on the patio. “Why are you staying up here?” Arthur asked. “Go kill an elk.”

  Slowly standing up, Kong strutted away and Arthur kept an eye on him as he walked to the shop. Grabbing a crowbar and a cordless impact drill, Arthur went back outside and started uncrating the boxes. When he had the massive CNC open, he looked at it and was very surprised at the shape it was in.

  “Well, I’ll just have to hook it up and see how much work needs done,” Arthur said, moving over to the smaller crate. The smaller crate was still seven feet long, four feet tall, and almost five feet wide. But compared to the massive CNC crate, it had looked tiny.

  When he had one end open, his cellphone chimed again. Giving a groan, Arthur pulled his phone out. “Oh, hell no,” he shouted, tapping the screen that showed an older pickup sitting at the gate. He turned the volume of the speaker back to max. “Rudy, what the hell do you want?”

  A scruffy-looking man in his late twenties stuck his head out the window. “That speaker is loud as shit,” Rudy said, looking at the camera. “I brought your stuff back.”

  Genuinely surprised, “Oh,” Arthur said, turning the volume down on the speaker and opened the gate.

  Putting his phone back, Arthur continued working to uncrate the machine. Minutes later, Rudy pulled up and Arthur looked over and saw the old riding lawn mower he’d let Rudy use. It was one of the first he’d rebuilt and since he had two more, he hadn’t been in a hurry to get it back. The fact that Rudy had waited until Arthur had demanded Rudy return his stuff was what bothered Arthur.

  Rudy got out and walked over while looking at the CNC. “That’s one of those metal working machines, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” Arthur answered and set down his crowbar. “You brought everything back?”

  “Except for the posthole diggers,” Rudy said. “I’m putting a fence in at Ms. McDonald’s place. That’s why I need to ask if I can borrow the augur.”

  Giving a sigh, Arthur nodded. Ms. McDonald was in her late seventies and went to his church. “Just bring the shit back,” Arthur moaned and Rudy nodded.

  Moving over, Arthur helped Rudy pull the ramp out and Rudy unloaded the mower, then stacked the rest of the stuff around and on the mower. Seeing that Rudy had more of his stuff than he’d known about, Arthur tried to remember when he’d let Rudy borrow everything. The fact it was his was undeniable, Arthur had engraved or welded his initials on all of his tools and equipment just for that reason.

  “So, can I get the augur now?” Rudy asked.

  Arthur didn’t answer and just headed for the buggy with Rudy following. Driving down to the barn, Arthur still couldn’t remember letting Rudy borrow a sander, air compressor, paint gun, or the electric jackhammer.

  Stopping at the barn, he helped Rudy load up the augur in the buggy and headed back up to the house. “You need anything done around here?” Rudy asked.

  “Nah, just keeping the place up,” Arthur replied as the answer hit him.

  “Anytime you need a hired hand, let me know,” Rudy said as Arthur stopped by his truck.

  “Will do,” Arthur said with a false smile, then helped Rudy put the auger in his truck.

  Rudy climbed in his truck and waved as he turned around and headed down the driveway. Pulling his phone out, Arthur saw Rudy drive out the gate and then tapped the phone, shutting the gate. Shoving his phone back in the holster, he jumped on the buggy and sped off.

  He drove between the two knolls behind the house and the trees became thicker along the small dirt track he was on. The track had a gentle rising slope and Arthur rounded a curve and stopped at four shipping containers. All four containers were on a leveled brick platform, bolted together.

  There were four other storage areas like this around the property and one refrigerated shipping container near the textile barn. They used it for a meat locker and processed meat in it. The groups of containers were just storage sheds and this group held tools and machines he had rebuilt.

  Climbing off the buggy, Arthur looked at the last container, the only one that didn’t have a lock. This one was left unlocked because it held small tools that they used a lot. Opening the doors, he reached inside and turned on the battery-operated lights. He walked down an aisle in the center and stopped, looking at another air compressor with an empty spot
beside it.

  “That motherfucker,” Arthur growled and continued down and saw where the electric jackhammer used to hang on the wall. “He knew this one was unlocked and there are no cameras here.”

  Walking around, Arthur thought some more stuff was missing, but couldn’t be sure until he inventoried. When he had several tools of the same type, he would sell some when the church had its swap meet twice a year. People came from all over and the church received ten percent of all sales.

  Turning off the lights, Arthur closed the doors and then inspected the locks of the other three containers. The last container’s lock was scratched up but looked intact. Walking back to the buggy, Arthur opened the glovebox and grabbed a key ring.

  Using the key, he opened the container and looked in at the ATVs and a golf cart parked along one wall and several dirt bikes on the other. All these Arthur had gotten from the salvage yard or yard sales and had repaired them. These also got sold at the swap meet, but he and Wendy would pull some out when her family would come over.

  “Well, time to put some more cameras up and lock that last container,” Arthur mumbled, closing the door and relocking it.

  Just to make sure, Arthur went and checked on the other container sites. They were placed around the property in different places, so it wouldn’t look junky. All the containers had been repainted and looked brand new. When he had bought all the containers, the market had been flooded. All of them were the long forty footers and he couldn’t build a metal container for what he’d bought them for.

  Now, containers were selling for five grand a piece. He couldn’t build one for that price, but it was getting close. Even though he poured his own metal and could make almost anything, Arthur always factored in his time in the cost.