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Franktown, CO
Quinn had just killed the chicken. He’d not really cared for the job, but it was better than plucking. That job was left to Laura.
Laura grimaced. “Thanks, I really hate killing them. I’ve never cared for that job.” She shivered and gritted her teeth, then smiled.
“Well, I don’t like it either, but I really hate plucking the damned things.” Quinn grinned handing the dead hen over to Laura. She had set up a bucket of boiling water and would dip the bird into the scalding water. This would help to release the feathers, making it easier to pluck. At least they only had to do this once a week. Though there were many chickens, it had been decided that they could eat one chicken a week and still maintain a healthy flock. Come spring, more chicks would hatch and replenish what was eaten.
“Are you and my dad going hunting soon?” Lauren asked, while pouring the scalding water over the carcass. Quinn wrinkled his nose; he hated the reek of wet feathers. Steam drifted up in tendrils from the large metal basin, the hot water covering the bird.
“Yes, Milly wants to put up venison. It’s about time, the deer are nice and fat by now and it is rutting season.”
“That does sound good.” Laura smiled. Quinn smiled back, he liked Laura. Both turned when they heard the dogs barking like crazy, out front. Quinn turned and ran around the house; he could hear Laura behind him. The day that Bart had come to his home, the men had loaded up a trailer and hooked it up to the old green tractor. The men had filled it with supplies from Quinn’s barn. Some of the supplies had been heavy bales of barbed wire, along with eight-foot lengths of pressure treated wood. Both had agreed that putting up a barrier around the house was a smart move.
Thankfully, both men had heavy leather gloves with Kevlar woven in. The gloves had saved them all kinds of pain. It had taken nearly a week to put the barbed wire around the house. The intervals were roughly sixteen inches between strands. Someone could get through, but it was going to hurt.
Quinn came around the house to see two men, both looked rough as hell. He looked over and saw Bart at the front door, an AR15 in hand. Quinn had pulled his Glock and so had Laura. Good. They’d all sat down and discussed situational awareness and not going anywhere on the property unarmed. Quinn knew the women would be vulnerable, but kept that thought to himself. Milly was especially prickly about being treated other than a mean, green, fighting Marine. A smile flitted briefly across his mouth. She was a marine to her heart’s core.
Both strangers looked like hell, thin and filthy. Quinn waved Laura back and he walked up to the fence. He made sure he was out of Bart’s line of fire. He didn’t want to get plugged.
“What do you want?” He asked briskly. Besides the discussion on situational awareness and being armed at all time, they’d all agreed not to give out any food or information. Milly had a basement full of canned food as well as a root cellar. She also had carrots, potatoes and sweet potatoes still in the ground. They were covered with blocks of hay. The pumpkins, cabbages and other vegetables and fruits were in the root cellar.
“We’re looking for food. Can you spare any?” A tall man with black greasy hair asked. Seeing him, Quinn was reminded how lucky he was. He’d not had a hell of a lot of food on hand. If Bart hadn’t invited him, he too could be looking as bad as these men. He did, however, know how to hunt. They stunk of filth and starvation. Their skin had an oily sheen to it, their clothing shiny with filth. They were ill dressed for the cold and the snow.
“Sorry. We don’t have a hell of a lot. There might be some good hunting or trapping.” He offered.
“I hear a rooster, so you got chickens. Give us one of them.” The second man said, his eyes narrowing. He had graying hair and was going bald on the top. His teeth were janky, very uneven and heavily scummy. As though his jaw was too small for the number of teeth in his head.
“Like I said, we don’t have a lot. We have many mouths to feed.”
“You sure as shit don’t look like you’ve missed too many meals. You got plenty. Give over asshole. We’re hungry.” The dark-haired man demanded, his face turning red.
“Fuck you. Get going or I’ll end your suffering.” Quinn raised his weapon. Both men backed up a few steps.
“This is bullshit. We’re starving. You should feed us; we know you got the food.” The balding man whined.
“I’m sorry, but I have to take care of my own. It’s gonna be a long winter. Head east, I’m sure you’ll find something. Now go. I see you again, I won’t give you a warning, I’ll just shoot.”
“Fucking asshole. We know you got plenty of food. This is bullshit.” The obdurate black-haired man spat, pushing the other man ahead of him. Both men looking back over their shoulders as they walked away. Quinn felt Laura’s presence behind him, and he looked back at her.
“You think they’ll be back Quinn?”
“Yeah, I do. Maybe tonight. I’ll be up, standing watch, outside.” He said softly.
“Then you’d better have a larger portion to eat. You’ll be burning a lot of calories in the cold.” She said. They’d all agreed to eat sparingly. There was plenty of food, but they could not afford to eat with abandon. They’d all lost weight, except for the girls. They were given the lion’s portion of the food. Milly had
