Now, she was getting roughly a dozen a day, before, they had been getting over two dozen eggs on a daily basis. Soon, most, if not all the hens would stop laying. The overcast skies didn’t help, but they were starting to see a glimmer of sun now. Each morning, Milly made fried or scrambled eggs. She made thin flour tortillas from the flour she had. Sometimes she made thin cornbread cakes. She also fried up potatoes with onions. Quinn had been surprised with the amount of flour she had.
“I used to bake for the food bank in Denver. I also took a lot of eggs there as well. I’ve plenty of supplies put in, and a good thing. I don’t think I’ll get another chance to get anything. Come spring, we’re gonna have to plant triple the garden.” She’d announced. She and Laura, along with the twins had gone out to the garden to mark off new ground that needed to be turned. Bart had then gone out with his tractor and had turned the ground. They had then cleaned out the chicken coop of all its poop and had scattered the fertilizer all over the fallow ground.
Quinn turned and looked at Laura. “I’ll be fine. I’ll eat my normal share. I’ll just bundle up really good.”
“You sure, you’re looking awfully thin?” Worry puckered her ginger brows. He smiled down at her and her concern. She had the prettiest blue eyes, like the sky on a clear bright day.
“I’m sure. Trust me, if I’m that hungry, I’ll eat more, but my body is getting used to the new world.” He smiled down at her. She nodded and both watched as the two men disappeared out of sight.
“I expect we’ll see them booger eaters again.” Bart said, walking up behind Quinn.
“I expect you’re right, Bart.”
Quinn guesstimated that it was sometime after midnight. Bart had woken him just a little while ago. Bart had taken the first watch, Milly had wanted to, but Bart had put the kibosh on that.
“I know you can do it honey bunch, I do, but I need you sharp during the day. You know how I like to nap. I can’t do that if I know you’ve been up all night.” He’d cajoled her. Quinn’s lips trembled with a grin. Milly had harrumphed and walked away. There might come a time when all of them must pull duty, to stand watch. So far, they’d been lucky. Bart’s farm was off the main drag. It was a little harder to find. They’d had a few people pass by in the previous weeks, but they’d only stopped for water and information. They’d been given water and little else.
“We don’t want to explain how we know what we know. I don’t think people knowing I have a radio is a good idea.” Bart had said.
“Yeah, and really, you don’t have a hell of a lot of info to give out. There’s a lot of bullshit flying out there and really, what is true and what is propaganda is anyone’s guess.” Quinn had agreed. With the arrival of the two men earlier today, it was an indication that there would be more people heading their way. Denver was now dispersing. The men didn’t have any visible weapons, but Quinn was sure they did have them. If the men were smart enough to keep them hidden, then they were smart enough to try to come back.
Quinn kept to the shadows. There wasn’t a moon out, so it was suitably dark. His clothing was dark as well and he had a black watch cap, to keep his head warm. He blended into the shadows, minimizing his movement. The dogs were inside. There was a fine dusting of snow on the ground. Quinn moved around the side of the house. He’d keep to the shadows, moving slowly around the perimeter of the house, then out around the barn and over to the chicken coop. Quinn was sure the men would come back and try for a chicken or two. They might get on the property, but they’d not leave it alive. He’d have no remorse for the intruders.
Quinn was craving a cigarette; he’d smoked his last one three days ago. The apocalypse was both good and bad for his health. It was funny, that was the first time he’d thought of all this as apocalyptic. They’d caught more broadcasts, and it sounded like the surviving states were having a hard time as well. Food shortages, and prices were skyrocketing. There were demonstrations in D.C. There were widespread lootings and shootings in the major cities. Martial law had been declared for the remaining states. People were being shot in the streets by the National Guard. The government was bringing down the hammer and bringing it down with devastating force, no quarter given.
There were also protests outside of the refugee camps. There were references to the hives, but it was confusing. What did hives have to do with the camps? They’d all been astonished at the numbers. Millions of people homeless. That thought was staggering and overwhelming. Quinn couldn’t even fathom that kind of number; how could they house and feed so many? Still, no word had been given on the exact locations of the bombings. Quinn was sure that the United States was circling the drain when it came to economic stability. There was no longer a surplus, but a staggering deficit. That shortfall translated to rampant food shortages, clean water, as well as power and fuel shortages. Rolling blackouts and brown outs had been mentioned on the radio. How could they try and explain that to anyone asking?
Quinn froze, he was by the barn, he’d heard something, but he wasn’t sure what. He pulled his Glock from the shoulder holster. He’d
