Forsaken World:Coming of Age (5 page)

“No, she is a good friend,” Ian said, glancing at Lance. “If she wanted to go steady with you, I would understand, you know.”

“I wouldn’t,” Lance huffed as Ian stopped where the ridge turned.

Grabbing his squawk box, Ian pressed the transmit button. “Making turn, company at the pile,” he called out.

“Copy,” Jennifer said.

Ian looked at Lance, grinning. “Live the motto.”

“Live the code,” Lance said, bumping fists with Ian.

As Ian pressed the pedal, in unison, they said, “When questioned by a friend’s girlfriend, you need not and should not provide any information as to his whereabouts. You are even permitted to deny his very existence.

“Unless he murdered someone in your immediate family, you must bail a friend out of jail within 24 hours.

“A friend must be permitted to borrow anything you own—grill, car, firstborn child—within 12-hour notice. Women or anything considered “lucky” are not applicable in this case.

“On a road trip, the strongest bladder determines pit stops, not the weakest.

“If a man’s zipper is down, that’s his problem. You didn’t see anything!

“Unless you’re in prison, never fight naked. This includes men who aren’t wearing shirts. If your buddy is outnumbered, outmanned, or too drunk to defend himself, you must jump into the fight. Exception: if during the past 24 hours, your friend’s actions have caused you to think, ‘what this guy needs is a good ass whippin,’ in which case you may refrain from getting involved and stand back and enjoy.

“If you ever compliment a guy’s six pack, you better be talking about his choice of beverage. Never talk to another man in the bathroom unless you are on equal footing: both urinating, both waiting in line. For all other situations, an “I recognize you” nod will do just fine, and minimal eye contact at all times.

“Before allowing a drunken friend to cheat on his girl, you must attempt one intervention. If he can get up on his feet, look you in the eye, and deliver a “fuck off,” then you are absolved from all responsibility. Later on, it is okay that you have no idea what his girlfriend is talking about.

“Any dispute lasting any longer than three minutes will and must be settled by rock, paper, scissors. There is no argument too important for this determining method.

“A man shall never help another man apply sun tan oil—blood relations are included. Under no circumstances may two non-related men share a bed or anything that can be perceived as a mattress regardless of size unless more than three women are involved.

“If you say ouch, you are a pussy!” they said a little louder, grinning at each other and holding up their fists.

“Bros befo’ hos,” they said, bumping fists and laughing.

At master control, Jennifer dropped the microphone as Ian’s 3-D scent jacket held the button down, letting her hear the code and motto. Beside her, Allie and Carrie recited it along with them. “What the fuck was that?” Jennifer cried and realized the girls recited it. “You’ve heard that before?”

Grinning, Carrie said, “They say it all the time.”

“Holy shit,” Jennifer said as the radio transmission from Ian shut off. “I used to think they were so smart. Now, I think they’re dumb asses.”

It was an hour later when Ian stopped at the head of the draw at the ridge. Below them were a house, mobile home, barn, and several vehicles parked around the property. Lance pulled out the binoculars, looking down at the area. “How far away are we, you think?”

“Five, six hundred yards,” Ian said, looking down the roads and seeing the pack of stinkers that had left were almost out of sight. Nothing else was coming.

“I don’t see anything around the house or barn, but the doors are busted off the house,” Lance said and lowered the binoculars. “I’m thinking we ease down where the draw ends and ease up to the area on foot to make sure it’s clear.”

“Sounds good, but why not just haul ass to the chicken coop, grab the bastards, and haul ass back?”

“I really would hate to find out the house, mobile home, and barn are full of the fuckers and they cut us off,” Lance said, putting the binoculars up.

Groaning, Ian gripped the steering wheel. “You just had to say it.”

“Yeah, if they are, just turn around, and head back up here. They can’t go fast enough uphill, so we can lose them.”

Ian eased between the smaller trees as he went down the draw, soon losing sight of the farm. When he stopped at the bottom, they pushed the netting back and slowly got out. They checked each other then their weapons. Satisfied, they looked at Dino, who was looking at the farm ahead. “He’s not growling,” Ian said.

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.”