That couldn’t be right, could it? Why? Why was this happening. Why wasn’t the government doing something to help them? Couldn’t they drop supplies from planes? Were they just left out here to rot and die? What would have happened had her parents not had the farm? How were Donny and Carol? Were they still alive? She wiped once more at the tears and looked over at her daughters. They’d stopped asking about their father. They were growing attached to Quinn. Her mouth trembled in a smile. He was a good man, even though he’d killed those two men. Her father had been so proud of Quinn and kept hugging the man and shaking his hand.
Why was she having such a hard time with all this? Her mother seemed fine with the killing, as did her father and Quinn. She’d assured her daughters that they were safe, that night of the shooting. She’d not told them anything. Only that Quinn was protecting them. They could not understand death yet. Nor killing someone who was stealing. Hells bells, even she couldn’t understand it. But, then again, she did. Looking at Allain and Alexa, she knew, she’d kill anyone who’d threaten them. She’d almost killed Randy. She knew in her heart of hearts; she’d have shot him dead.
A broad smile crept over her face, she saw her father and Quinn with a deer between them, hanging from a pole.
“Mom! They got one, they got a really big one.” She laughed.
Ӝ
Quinn looked up and grinned, his heart swelled with joy. They’d shot a big buck and they were looking at near seventy pounds of edible meat. Not to mention the ribs, that were now being marinated. His mouth watered. They were processing the meat; Bart had dragged out the smoker and they were cutting thin strips to smoke into jerky. Milly was canning the rest. She was also using the leg bones for soup and broth. None of the deer would be wasted.
“My god, I can’t get over that shot. I mean, damn boy.” Bart laughed; his hands covered in blood. They were in the barn.
“Trust me, it was a lucky shot. But what I think was damned lucky, those bear tracks. If we can hunt down that bear, that is a hell of a lot of meat!” Quinn laughed.
Both men had been excited. They’d talked about perhaps running into deer or, if they were lucky, a feral pig, but they’d not expected to see bear tracks. If they got the chance, they’d kill anything big enough to eat. They needed to put as much meat away as possible. Their lives depended on it. The eggs helped with protein, but Quinn could feel that need for more meat, more than one chicken a week. His body screamed for it. He’d lost nearly twenty pounds since all this chaos went down.
“Worst case, we could always eat Wilber.” Quinn grinned and sniggered at the look that came across Bart’s face.
“Boy, I’d gut you and eat you first. Shit head.” Bart glared, a grin just at the edge of his lips.
“Just a thought.” Quinn laughed.
Quinn worried about Laura; she was growing thinner by the day. He’d seen the worried looks in Milly and Bart’s eyes. Laura was grieving for Hogan, he was sure. But it was something more, like she couldn’t quite accept this new life, the life of violence. Perhaps because he, Bart and Milly had been marines, they accepted it more easily. He hadn’t liked killing those men, but he liked it even less having them steal food from the children’s mouths. It was a hard world now; Laura needed to accept it and stop living in that other world, the old world. There was a confluence of the old and new, she needed to step into the new. The old world was dead and from what the people on the radio said, they were all left to fend for themselves. The government wasn’t going to help and in fact, seemed to be doing everything it could to prevent anyone else from helping.
“You know, once we get this processed, I think we should go again soon and see if we can’t get ourselves a bear. I’ve had it before and it’s damned fine eating, especially in winter, with all that fat on it.” Bart grinned; blood streaked across his face. He looked like a wild man, his white hair standing on end.
Quinn laughed, and it felt damned good to laugh. With the meat from the deer and what they had in the basement and root cellar; they would easily make it until spring. Granted, once spring got there, it would be a stretch until the first fresh vegetables were ready to harvest, but the fear of starvation was now at least pushed to the back burner.
Quinn jerked when he heard the gunshot, it was so close, he dove to the ground, Bart right behind him. He looked around, then got up in a crouch and ran toward the house. He didn’t have to look back to know Bart was behind him. He had his Glock in hand, his hands sticky with blood. At least they weren’t slick. He hit the side of the house and came around. The dogs were barking like crazy and Milly was at the front door, her Mossberg raised, her eyes scanning around. Quinn looked around and
