After the cows headed back out to the field, he moved over to the other side of the barn and fed the horses and sheep. He laughed at the super fluffy sheep until he got to the two rams. Their large spiral horns jutted out from their heads as they looked at him with their demonic eyes. “I’m not scared of sheep and the last time a ram butted me, he got ate,” Arthur informed them, moving among the sheep.
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
