Cooper tried to help, which was no help at all. The boy had so much energy, it caused Brian to grin. They worked their way around all the poles, then started on the second layer, above the first go around. Brian wanted the fence high, to keep foxes out. He’d eventually put some kind of netting on top, to keep owls and hawks out, but for now, he’d be happy with keeping the chickens in. He’d also have to make a door to go in and out of the chicken yard. For now, he secured it with a nail. By the time he got the second tier up and attached, he could let the chickens out of the kennel. He opened the door to the kennel that held the brooding hen and she wasn’t pleased.
Cooper couldn’t reach the third level, so he went to play by the shore of the lake. Brian watched, making sure the boy didn’t go into the water. It was still cold, but Brian wasn’t sure the child knew not to go in. He had warned the boy, but he’d never been a parent. He wasn’t sure what he should or shouldn’t do and what Cooper was capable of, so he kept a constant eye on the child. He felt he was honor bound to do his best with the boy.
He was sweating profusely now; the day having warmed up considerably. He finished with the last row of the chicken wire and called it quits for the coop project, at least for today. He wished there was someone else to help, but this was on his shoulders. Brian figured if he worked on each project a little each day, he would move forward in his progress. There was just so much to get done.
They broke for lunch and he pulled out the sandwiches he’d made the night before. He’d kept them in a sealed plastic bag and had put that along with drinks in the lake. He drank a coke, he’d left at the edge of the lake in a pillow case, with the sandwiches, held by a rock. The cold water kept the drinks and sandwiches reasonably cold. He’d thought about bringing beer, but then thought better. He’d need to keep a clear head here. Though it was quiet now, he was sure there would be others coming. How could they not? It was a prime location. Hunting, fishing and space.
He looked over at Cooper, who looked a little droopy eyed. Nap time.
“Come on Coop, I want you to lay down for a bit. I’ll be right outside, tilling the garden.”
“I can help.” He piped up, his eyes going owlish and large.
“I know buddy, but take a nap and you can help after, okay?”
His small shoulders slumping, Cooper got up. Brian walked him into the new home and to where he’d set up the twin bed. He’d put LEGO sheets on the bed. He’d put the sheets on the bed, along with the pillow from the house. He had a few new pillows, but figured he’d save those.
“Don’t worry son, there’s lots for you to do when you wake up, okay?”
“Okay.” Cooper said sleepily and yawned, his mouth filling his whole face. The boy pulled his blue blanket close to him and closed his eyes. Brian grinned and went back out to begin breaking soil for the new garden. He’d need to get the plants into the ground and growing. He’d also need to get the fruit trees into the ground. He jerked up when he heard a shot.
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Benjamin Jacob Hamm, BJ, sighed in satisfaction. He was desperate, he’d only been here two days and had not seen any deer. He’d feared that perhaps he’d chosen wrong. He’d driven all the way from Cincinnati, Ohio. He’d spent his time gathering supplies and avoiding people. He’d hit sporting goods stores, such as Dick’s, and other stores, all along the way. He’d thought the Vermilion Strain had wiped out most of the population, but it would seem that it had only left assholes in its wake. Time and again on his travel across the country, he’d been stopped and robbed of all his possessions. He’d had to stop again and again to gather up what he could find and hoped he’d not be killed for them.
He’d been a carpenter in his before life and an assistant youth’s minister and wasn’t sure about how to cope with all the violence. He was thankful that he’d not been killed. He couldn’t understand why those people would take his supplies. There were plenty, all one had to do was walk into a store and pick it up. Yet, four times, he’d been stopped, a toll, he’d been told. A toll! It was a lazy man’s way of stealing. He was not a violent man, he’d never been, but he was getting to the point where he could no longer turn the other cheek.
He was finally here however and had went about setting up a camp. He’d claimed
