“Well, it can be done. But, having hormone shots helps a hell of a lot. Now a days, most women opt for formula. Most women don’t want another woman nursing their infant. In a lot of third world countries, its done. Not a lot of formula there.” She’d shrugged. Now, it would seem, that the United States had turned into some kind of third world, murdering machine. She still couldn’t get her mind around mass murder.
Trish had read several articles supporting the spontaneous lactating claim and had found them to be credible. She and Ryan had discussed having children, but they’d not been married long and were still young. She’d been going to nursing school at the time. She’d not been ready for children.
Her fingertip gently traced the crown of the baby. His skin was nearly transparent, all the tiny veins and capillaries webbing the child’s skin. How had the child managed to survive? The boy had the soft hair, that covered his body. It would go away as the baby got older. His umbilical cord had dropped off, but it had been a recent event. The child was no more than two weeks. She placed a finger into the tiny grasp and was awed at the strength of the grip.
They’d have to give him a name. Tears blurred her vision. His mother had given him a name, but she’d been ruthlessly murdered.
“This world has gone crazy, little man. But we’ll try to keep it safe for you, here.” She whispered. She kissed his head again and inhaled the scent of the boy. All babies had it. A special and intoxicating scent. She supposed it was what bonded a parent to the child. The child finally stopped suckling, now in deep sleep. She pulled her bra back into place and put her weapon back in the holster. Sitting back, she rocked the small form. She’d have to go through some of her clothing and see about making diapers. Perhaps she could send Hogan out, to other homes, the abandoned ones and look for suitable clothing. The truck still ran, they started it up and ran it once a week. The gas gage was low, but she was sure they had a couple trips to somewhere left in it before it completely died.
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Franktown, CO
Laura stood in the middle of the garden. The potatoes had been planted and were starting to peek through the soil. She had the girls pulling weeds. She watched them, knowing they might try to pull up the potatoes instead. A soft smile edged around her lips. Quinn had come to her the night before. He’d held her in his arms until just before sunrise. At some point, she knew she was going to have to make things official and move her daughters into her room and take the bigger bed, so Quinn could stay there permanently.
Quinn and her father were out patrolling the property. There had been more activity of late, people on the move. Quinn had chased off several men yesterday, shooting at them. Laura was sure he missed on purpose. She smiled. He wasn’t ruthless yet. Though, if the men showed back up, she was sure he’d put them down. There were no easy pickings at this farm.
“Easy, if the leaves are rounded, those are the potatoes.” She gently reminded Alexa.
She stooped over and picked a blade of dandelion and popped it into her mouth. No need to waste food. The dandelions were plentiful in the front yard and the children had collected them and eaten them before the goats began their grazing. Maggy and Wilber were set out into the pasture to eat the new growth. The goats would be sent there as soon as Bart repaired some of the fence. Goats could devastate a garden and so the goats were controlled with heavy metal, dog lines.
Milly kept the goats because Maggy was getting up there in age. Once she died, they’d only have the goats for milk. Maggy would be butchered, none of her going to waste. The sun was bright and warm. Tomorrow, they’d start the process of planting beans. It was back breaking work, but had to be done. If they wanted to eat, they had to work hard for it. It would be weeks until they saw the fruits of their labor. She watched as a meadowlark swooped in for an errant bug and was then gone. She could hear blue jays in the distance, calling and crying. The birds were louder now, singing from early morning until evening.
Laura turned and smiled; her mother was making her way toward them.
“Do we have any potato plants left?” Milly grinned down at her granddaughters.
“They’re getting it. So far, no major upsets with the plants. They’re also picking any bugs off them as well. They’re eewwwing when they do.” Laura laughed.
“So, when are you and Quinn gonna make it permanent? Or are you two going to keep sneaking around?” Milly said, walking down the rows, picking weeds here and there.
“Mom!” Laura hissed, looking over her shoulders at the girls, who were oblivious and busy in their tasks.
“If you’re worried about the girls, don’t be. They see how you and Quinn are and they are so used to it, it doesn’t even register.” Milly said, waving her daughter’s protests away.
“I don’t know mom, I just…” Her voice trailed off.
“Look honey. Hogan isn’t coming back. That’s a fact. We’ve not heard any more broadcasts in the last two months. The government has shut it all down. They’re not coming to help us. We’ve got to live on our own and for ourselves. You might as well be happy and live in the open, instead of sneaking around. God knows my floors could do without all the
