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.
Each area held certain items and Arthur started racking his brain to remember if Rudy had ever been inside the others. Visiting the three other storage areas around the property, Arthur jumped on the buggy. Driving up to the textile barn, Arthur could only remember Rudy looking inside three of the tool and machine containers.
The last group and the lone refrigerated container were behind the textile barn. Arthur knew for a fact that Rudy knew where all of the storage containers were located because he had hired him two years ago to help fence off the property.
Stopping at the meat locker container, Arthur saw the shiny lock untouched. Inside were several machines to process meat, but then Arthur remembered Rudy had seen inside that one just a few months ago. Wendy had been inside processing the chickens they had culled when Arthur had paid Rudy to help him paint the textile barn.
He drove over to the other four and stomped the brakes. “That motherless cocksucker,” Arthur snarled, getting off the buggy. Two of the locks were twisted and beat to shit, but were still in place. These containers held the cloth, leather, thread, and yarn they produced.
What they made didn’t compare to what a textile mill could do, but they could make their own clothes and even sell some specially woven cloth. The reason they weren’t taxed was because they made it and sold it for cash. Cash; the item the government hated and loved to take away.
The textile barn had an alarm system Arthur had salvaged, but he and Wendy had wanted it only because it would tell them if there was a fire. The burglar alarm was just an afterthought. The house didn’t even have a burglar alarm.
Unlocking the small door, Arthur walked in and turned off the alarm. All the machines to process fibers were on the right side and weaving looms were on the other side. This barn was just as massive as the livestock barn and Arthur had always wondered if the same people had built them. When they had rebuilt this barn, they’d closed it in and put in a ton of lighting and electrical sockets.
He went upstairs to check on Wendy’s silk area. Seeing the three refrigerators that held her silkworm eggs, Arthur made sure the locks were still in place. Wendy kept them locked so the doors would stay closed without a doubt.
Turning around, he saw the rows of huge bins that they loaded with mulberry leaves to feed the silkworms. It had taken her awhile but Wendy had finally got her hands on one clutch of domesticated silk moths. Domesticated moths couldn’t survive without human intervention. They had a few wild silk moths in the mulberry orchard, but even Arthur could tell the difference in the amount of silk they got from the wild silkworms and the domesticated ones.
“Momma will be back soon and you know she likes putting you guys to work during the summer,” Arthur said. It just amazed him that Wendy could put the eggs in the fridge and pull them out when she was ready. The longest she had kept a batch cold was a year and they had survived just fine.
The lady who Wendy had gotten the eggs from had told them that she had kept a batch in the fridge for five years, but Wendy never wanted to try that long.
Finding everything all right, Arthur headed back out, turning the alarm on and locking the door. He stopped and
