Second Chances (32 page)

Carlos and Diego took over the farm leadership. They planned out a modest farm and ranch to start with but with expansion plans for the long term. They grew eager at the potential of the land. “It's all fresh, clean, we can do anything we want with it!” Carlos said. “No taxes, no gangs to take what they want...” He grinned. “Muy bien!”

“Whatever man, just make it work,” Miles grunted.

“I have seeds, some, and I know a few have others. I had tried to make a garden but...”

“Well, here we can do better. We've got to feed everyone,” Abe said. “Plan on that. We'll work on the animals too,” he said, nodding to Diego. Diego nodded in response tipping his own cowboy hat.

“Whatever works,” Vicky said. Miles nodded.

\------{}------/

A spic named Carlos and a tall, long-faced man who didn't speak but reminded Miles of that butler guy from the Adam's family pulled in volunteers. When Miles found out they were testing fruit and other food items, he'd at first been interested and supportive when Nicole volunteered her services. They were using something called the scratch method.

“I remember it,” Nicole told him. “You test things you think a person might get sick or be allergic to by wiping it on their skin or embedding it under the skin. If there is no inflammation, then they are okay,” she said.

“Under the skin?” Miles asked.

“It's tiny, Miles, really small.”

“Oh, hell no! What if you do get sick! Or an infection! Did you think of that? You're talking about driving something into you, then seeing if it makes you sick. How do they get it out?”

Nicole frowned thoughtfully. Miles shook his head vehemently no.

“Let someone else risk their neck. You've got a family,” Miles growled. She looked doubtful but didn't go against him when he pulled her out of the project.

\------{}------/

“Who the hell names their kid Clay?” Miles demanded as Nicole gathered laundry. He was disgusted; the spring rains had trapped everyone in the base just when he'd finally gotten them over their fear. He certainly didn't want to go out in the muck he admitted. They'd bogged down one car already the last time they'd tried it. At least what plants they had gotten into the ground had been watered. Hopefully they didn't drown he thought then shook his head. That was Carlos's problem, not his.

Nicole tisked as she worked only half listening to her man. As usual he just dumped his on the floor or wherever he pleased. She sighed in long practiced exasperation and tossed his dirty pants over her shoulder with the rest of the pile. “It's like naming someone dirt or stone.”

“And you are named what? Miles?” Nicole asked, tossing clothes in the basket. They couldn't do a wash like before, after all, they didn't have a washing machine. They'd used a Laundromat for years, and Miles didn't trust solar. Bleeding hearts used solar; he was a man's man. She sometimes wondered why she stayed with him. The kids she realized.

He snorted. “No one is named Clay!”

“Tell that to oh, Aiken,” she said absently, pulling an encrusted underwear out from under the bed. How it had gotten there she didn't know, she'd done wash last week. She wrinkled her nose and tossed it into the basket. He blinked at her. “Country music star,” she said. He grunted.

“Okay, so one person,” he mocked.

“You know, get over it. The guy didn't pick his name; his parents did. He didn't bother changing it, so it must mean something to him. And by the way, I knew a few people with last names of Stone or oh, Dunn. So don't play holier than thou with me. It won't wash...
Miles
,” she said, hip bumping him out of the way as she went to do the wash. It was raining, so at least she didn't have to go far for water she thought.

\------{}------/

The spring storms lashed and battered the coastline for days on end. After each storm a group of people picked over the beach for sea weed and other materials. The colorful shells were popular. They found some had poisonous animals inside though. Two guys were sickened when they tried to eat them. From then on the shells that had the things in them were tossed back into the sea or left alone.

“Serves em right. They should have known better, collecting trinkets when we need food,” Miles grumbled.

A few people fished in the bay. They rigged nets with poles across the river mouth that fed into the bay. They caught a half a dozen or so fish each time, enough to feed the families who put in the effort. They traded some of their excess or smoked it.

A large sea monster killed one guy who had gone out to the headland to fish. Its long neck had risen out of sea and caught him napping, head down and covered by a straw sombrero. They saw the thing snap him up and drag him into the sea from the bay. Ernesto had been a nice guy sharing his catch with others. Nicole shook her head, white as a sheet. She'd seen the whole thing and shrieked herself hoarse. She shivered.

“Just goes to show; nice guys finish last here,” Miles growled. “And if you drop your guard you are as good as dead.”

She nodded, troubled.

“I'm not going to let that happen to us,” Miles said. She wrapped her arms around him briefly, then went back to work.

The coastal people set up a salt water system. He'd been a bit confused by it until Jake had asked and then clued him in. They had containers set up filled with an inch or so of water. They were solar trays that let water evaporate in the sun into a concentrated brine, then they concentrated it further until nothing was left but salt. It took days, but eventually they had a crust of salt to scrape off.

“So why? I mean sea salt's nice but...”

“Da…I mean, Colonel, it's for food.”

“Food?” Miles wrinkled his nose.

“Sure. The salt will be used to preserve meat, poultry and fish as well as flavor food,” Jake explained to his father.

“Oh,” Miles responded, face clearing. Come to think of it, he did remember something about it in the preper manuals he had. “Gotcha.” He patted the kid on the shoulder. “Good work.”

“De nada, Colonel,” Jake said.

“Now don't you be taking on bad habits,” Miles growled. Jake raised his hands in surrender. Miles scowled as the kid went off to do his chores.

\------{}------/

They weren't the only ones searching the coastlines after storms. A Rex made itself known as it marched down the sandy beach hunting for carcasses that had washed up on shore in the frothy tides. Abe scared it back the way it had come by lighting off a string of fire crackers in front of it however. The loud pops and snaps had bothered it, but the loud blare of a car horn and bright high beam lights from a couple vehicles had convinced it to keep going. It had bellowed, then taken off, giving them the occasional sulking look over its shoulder as it had left.

“That was a fricken close one,” Jake said.

“Damn straight kid,” Abe agreed.

Miles nodded grimly. “We need to improve the coastal defenses,” he growled.

“Yeah,” Abe sighed. “That too.”

Chapter 18

For the first month they hadn't lost a single soul after the disastrous first week. Their population had even increased by one; a single woman from Panama had given birth prematurely to a little girl. The baby’s angry squalls had brightened a few people up. All the women had paid their respects to the new mother. Miles grumbled about all the hoopla, but Nicole's dirty look shut him down. As long as the brat didn't wake him up, he didn't care. Not that it could, he was working his ass off so much he was going into a deep sleep every night.

Over the course of the first months of what turned out to be a nice spring, a segregation of labor formed. Women and children were increasingly relegated to the base and nearby area; men were out doing “real work” in the fields, hunting, and cutting trees. That didn't go over well with some. Some men were secretly relieved at protecting their family though. Some women were okay with it as well. But there were a few like Nicole, Vicky, Max, Ciara, and Moira who buck the system.

Vicky he could understand; she was or had been a cop. She had the training, and she was a good hunter. Max was a quiet bitch from Arizona. She didn't say much, but he'd seen her kick a guy's ass with martial arts when he'd come on too strong for her taste. No one was going to tell her no.

Ciara was another woman like that, but she'd been a dancer in LA. She just ignored the pointed hints that her presence wasn't welcome and did what she pleased. Moira the Irish woman was practically cut from the same cloth. Whenever Miles caught Vicky out beyond the walls he sent her back with some excuse or another. Most were valid, and she apparently didn't want to undercut his authority in front of “the troops.” Though she was starting to grumble about it.

It all came to a head when he started picking up more grumbling about the division of labor. Most of it was from the women, but one or two guys like Joe backed them up. He caught some angry muttering from Nicole before he finally decided to call her out. “Okay, let's hear it.”

“Hear what?” she snarled, slamming the bowl of soup down in front of him hard enough to slop the food. He jerked back as she stormed off.

“Obviously something's bothering you,” Miles said. The kids looked at each other. Miles said a prayer. The kids bowed their heads. When he was finished he looked up but Nicole wasn't there; she was still busy.

“Mommy's unhappy,” Sydney said to Jake.

Jake grunted. He was still irritated that his thirteenth birthday had just passed and he hadn't gotten crap as a gift, not so much as a birthday wish from anyone except Sydney and his mom.

“About what?” Jake asked. “I don't see what her problem is,” he said. He rolled his shoulders.

Miles snorted, eating quickly. He wanted to finish and get the hell out of Nicole's range before she did blow. “Eat quick,” he urged to Jake.

Jake frowned, then dug in.

“Are you going to help clean up?” Sydney asked, looking from her father to Jake. “It's your turn you know,” she said.

“I don't have to. I'm a man now, doing man things,” Jake said proudly. “Right, Colonel?”

“Right,” Miles said.

“Bullshit!” Nicole practically shrieked, coming around the trailer. “You two lazy, good for nothing sons of bitches are going to do more than sit on your asses and smirk. You can damn well help with the chores here too!”

“Why? So you can sit and watch a soap opera? Or go get your hair and nails done?” Miles demanded, eyes flashing. “For your information, I am working. It's you that's not holding up your end,” he said.

“Because you won't let me you son of a bitch,” She snarled. Sydney looked down, lip quivering. “You think you've got the world by the balls ‘cause you are so high and mighty. El Jefe, the Colonel. You're just a tin god thinking you are all that,” Nicole snarled.

“When you get a real job, then you can talk to me like that,” Miles said mildly.

“Right. Cooking, cleaning, chores, laundry, shit like that. You don't consider that real work. That's what, fun? You fucking think I do this shit for fun, Miles?” she snarled, slamming the laundry basket down. “We're back to that again. The F'ing stone age all over again,” Nicole snarled, storming off.

“Well, that's always fun to hear,” Jake sighed. He winced when his father reached across the table and slapped him on the back of the head. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“That's another thing, the damn attitude. The way you men are treating us like dirt. I'm not going to stand for it much longer,” Nicole said, storming back. “And that bullshit about the vote last night...” Her fists clenched white in her rage.

“What about it? We were just agreeing on what to do next. We need more meat, but we also need irrigation for the farm and more weapons. We had to settle the priorities,” Miles said. “In a democratic manner,” he said.

“Right, without us! You excused the women and children, then you men went and chatted about the projects without even consulting us!” Nicole raged. “We live here too you know! We have a right to have a say in how things are run!”

“Hey, you can't blame us; it's not like you can do anything. You aren't out there risking your necks like we are, busting our asses,” Miles growled. He pushed his empty bowl away.

“Because you won't let us!” Nicole snarled, practically shrieking. “You keep sicking the kids on us or asking when dinner's ready!”

“That's how it is now. Get over it,” Miles said. “Learn to live with it,” he said.

She eyed him with scant favor. Jake and Sydney finished their meals then took the bowls to the sink and then retreated quietly. “You are on one hell of a testosterone trip you know that you bastard?” she snarled.

“It's not my fault that's all you women are good for. Taking care of the brats and cooking isn't much I know,” he grumbled. He realized immediately that was the last thing to say when he saw her swell with rage.

“Bullshit! I can hold a gun and stand watch just like anyone else!” she said icily, shaking.

He grunted. “Okay, that's true,” he admitted. He looked about to see others nearby watching them warily. He realized they were in a public setting and did his best to keep a lid on his temper. He didn't want to be seen hitting his wife however tempted he was to do so just to shut her up at the moment.