Ten days passed as they worked from dawn to dusk finishing repairs to the cabin and assembling the storage shed and a chicken house. Two days of intermittent rain showers with gusty winds confined them to work on the interior of the cabin and take unscheduled play time. Several times Smokey was rudely pushed outside to fend for himself while the lovers made use of the new mattress and box springs laying on the wood floor.
Sam had installed a two inch diameter wide angle fisheye viewer in the thick slab door because there were no windows in that wall. Now, they could see what was near the door before it was opened. The interior of the cabin was just inches over twenty-four feet square— or almost square—when measured with a tape measure.
JR created a kitchen area near the winter meat freezer. A table with a cutting board and large plastic pan for dishwater would suffice for the present time. During their first winter, Sam promised to install solid wood base and wall cabinets to replace the table.
Their full sized bed sat in the southwest corner. Two antique wooden rockers, the rough built upright cabinet, and a side table were the only other furniture original to the cabin.
Sam promised JR he’d build a large storage closet with two doors in a corner to hold some of the miscellaneous items piled around the room on the floor because there was no shelving to store them. She agreed vertical shelves would be a godsend for organization until the kitchen cabinets were installed.
Smokey’s obedience training via the choke chain was progressing far better than Sam had hoped for. JR didn’t agree with that method; she felt it was cruel, but Sam convinced her it was best for Smokey’s safety. He needed to be taught to obey commands and not attack blindly and noisily in dangerous situations. With that rational, she agreed to take part so Smoky would also obey her when they were alone.
At night they discussed and practiced personal defensive moves and training. A full year earlier Sam brought several books on special forces training, motivation, and fighting. He read all of them before enrolling for six months of martial arts training in Israeli Krav Magna. He had to stop the twice weekly routine when his instructor left to go north ahead of the zombie invasion he also believed was coming. The man’s timing was fortuitous; he crossed the border two months before the crossings were closed.
One bright but cool afternoon, the couple made another trip to Charlies for lumber. They agreed the supply was somewhat depleted from their last forage run. Others were obviously taking what they needed too. Sam commented, “That’s a good sign of people working to survive and build a future for themselves. I like the idea of having solid neighbors who are planning to stay in the area.” JR paused a moment. “I wonder if Charlie made it across the border into Canada. I hope he’s alright; he’s a good, kind, generous person.”
Finally the chicken house with roosts and a dozen nesting boxes was completed. When the storage shed was assembled, they spent several long workdays moving most of the remaining supplies from the camper and trailers to the shed. They were officially moved in. One evening Sam took five, one hundred dollar bills from his billfold, which he’d stopped carrying weeks earlier. They were arranged in a wide fan pattern and pinned to the wall high above the door. They would serve as a constant reminder of better times and what the zombies took from them.
Clouds filled the afternoon sky and a hint of rain was in the heavy air. Sam and JR heard a distant engine on the trail to the cabin. It was a first; no one had visited them before. A couple riding a black four wheeler stopped when the cabin came into view. They sat for at least a minute with the engine idling before approaching the cabin. The machine sped at Sam aggressively and stopped abruptly five feet from him. The late twenties man driving was surly while the woman was silent but frowned at them from the beginning. She looked anxious and preoccupied.
The man exited the four wheeler, walked to stand in front of it, and faced Sam aggressively. He was tall and wiry with several day’s growth of facial hair and long straggly brown hair to his shoulders. “I’m Tom Metcalf and this is my partner Stacy. Who are you?” Stacy jumped from the ATV and silently fidgeted by clenching and unclenching her hands.
Sam didn’t offer to shake hands and stood his ground. He didn’t like Tom’s brash, confrontational attitude. “Sam Boyle and my wife JR. What can I do for you?” JR smirked; she instantly liked the elevation of their relationship. Stacy focused on her with animosity from her medium height chunky build. JR thought she could be cute if she took better care of herself.
Tom said, “What are you doing trespassing on my land? I own this property, and you have to leave immediately because you’re trespassing on private ground.”
From what Charlie told them, Sam knew Tom was a liar. “Show me your bill of sale.”
“I don’t carry it around with me, but I bought it about six months ago from the old guy who lived here then.”
JR picked up on Sam’s bluff and shivered as if too cool. She stepped inside the cabin and slipped a lightweight jacket on. She drew her sidearm and put it in her right jacket pocket with her index finger alongside the frame. She couldn’t envision the confrontation ending well because of the visitor’s attitude and the lies Tom was telling. Once again an evolving situation was sure to end violently.
She stepped outside and heard Sam say, “Thaddeus Pohlman owned the property when
