Second Chances (18 page)

“Good,” Bert said, putting away his harmonica in his breast pocket. “I think we can use it as a potato gun. I'm not sure about fuel for the vehicles though,” he said.

“I was thinking lamp oil. That would be great if we had some way to contain it, like glass,” Nel said.

“Back to the fuel idea,” Trey said, holding up a hand and leaning forward. Other side conversations ebbed. “Has anyone here tried it?” he asked. No one said anything. “Huh. Can we try it? Maybe treat it like ethanol?”

“A flex fuel? Supplement our other fuel? Are you sure it won't gum up the fuel lines?”

“I'm not sure of anything at this point, I don't know if we've experimented with it. We can certainly try it though.”

“With what?” Cliff asked.

“We've got lawn mowers, right? We've rigged a few for stuff, handed a few over to Adam, stripped the rest or traded them. I wonder if we can take one and try it? The juice I mean. If it doesn't work, we can clean it out, then try it with a blend,” he said.

“You're the mechanic, Trey, go for it,” Cliff said, nodding. “We're going to need fuel.”

“We're just about out of gas,” Adam said.

“No, John has a lot,” Carlene said.

“Yeah, cause he's been hoarding it,” Guy said darkly.

“That's mine by the way, I don't complain about what you've got, Guy, so don't go there,” John said tightly, eyes flashing. “And FYI, it's diesel and oil, not gas.”

“Oh.”

“So, back to the other stuff...what else can we do?” Bert said, trying to maintain the momentum of the positive conversation. John nodded. They found that they also had some material to make glazes, paper and other things. They compared notes on what people know. Several people left, only to come back with computers or books. By the light of the fire and spotlights on the walls, they looked through books and computer files for more ideas.

Loni was the first one to get up and go to bed.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

John's cabin had lagged behind because he had either been out cutting trees, hunting, gathering or working on other projects. He'd worked with others to build their homes and the community projects as well. Everyone pitched in to help him get the walls and roof up just before a rain storm. He showed them how to do stuff as they worked.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

Mid-fall, exactly eleven months after conception, the mares gave birth. The births were staggered, but there was nearly a birth a night keeping Quincy up and away from his wife the entire time. He was exhausted when the last one was born, a colt foal with a roan coat and white fetlocks.

He got a night's sleep before the small animals started having their third litters.

Not to be outdone, Doctor Brown also had a customer. It wasn't Carlene much to her surprise and amusement. They had their first human birth by Mrs. Saito. The shy Japanese new mother was a trooper; she was in labor for thirty hours Doc reported tiredly. The squall of the infant in the middle of the night was a welcome wake-up call to most. Many people hadn't known she had been pregnant; she didn't shirk any work and was right out there in the fields every day.

“She's so small, thin,” Ginger said. “I can practically see through her! How did she do it?”

“Yeah, some people are just like that,” Carlene said with a bit of envy. “I bet she won't have any trouble getting back into shape,” she said.

“Yeah, but thirty hours?” Ginger said, shaking her head. Then she looked at Carlene's gravid belly and winced. “Oh, sorry.”

“It's okay,” Carlene said, stroking her swollen tummy. “Only a couple more weeks,” she said. “At least that's what Doc said,” she said softly. “I need to walk and eat more though. I'm taking multivitamins,” she said.

“Good,” Ginger said, smiling. “Do you have a name?” She asked.

Carlene laughed softly. “We don't even know the gender!” she said, shaking her head. Ginger chuckled with her.

“Well, it might be fun to be surprised,” Ginger said. “And you and Yung Lin can share baby clothes and stuff, at least until the rest of us catch up,” she said wryly.

“Landed a guy yet?” Carlene teased. Ginger shook her head.

“What about John?”

Ginger snorted. “If I could,” she said. She cocked her head thoughtfully. “He's a good provider, quiet, but really intense. I don't think I can handle that. I mean, I bet he's full of passion, that's a nice bad boy thing, but the way he's going he's going to get himself killed sometime. Mark my words,” she said.

Carlene winced. “Let's hope not,” she murmured.

Since her husband had died in the raptor attack, Doctor Brown convinced her to move in with her and her husband to care for the newborn infant girl. Pat had offered, but she had her hands full with Kevin. Mrs. Saito didn't seem happy with the troubled teen, so she went with the Browns but bowed slightly and quietly thanked Pat for the offer. Other people buddied up with winter fast approaching.

The community had their third and final harvest. John again took his tithe of food and seeds. The seeds he stored for next spring.

He had some of the girls cook and process his food, giving them part of the final product as compensation, the same deal he'd done after each harvest. But this time it was much more meaningful, they knew winter was near.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

Whenever he had free time, John made shaker roof shingles with wood he or Darion had split. They had some nails, but the smith did them one better and came up with crude copper nails using local ore he'd smelted and a nail puller he had. John traded him bundles of roof shingles and wood for handfuls of nails. Adam hired Earl to put the shingles up on the barn; Trisha got Guy and others to build.

Darion and Eric helped him haul logs in and split them. He'd cut some of the logs down in the spring, stacking them to dry out over the summer. They used the logs to form a studio cabin with narrow windows. He paid the guys with food as well as helping them on their home improvement projects.

John's cabin was the second best home when it was complete, only Guy Robert's house was better. He used the excess material he had left over to help patch others and showed them how to make shingles and wood planks.

When he moved in people dropped by to help or see the home. Those that did admired what John had done from mostly native materials. There was a bit of envy from some of the ladies as they admired his kitchenette and open bath area as well as his reuse of material.

John explained his cabin design. The cabin was elevated off the ground since the snow would bury it in the winter. The roof was sloped at a steep angle to shed the snow and keep it from accumulating on the roof and his solar panels.

It had an outer airlock entryway with an enclosed porch. That prevented warm air from escaping from the inside of the house. He had his metal wood burning stove which would serve as a heat source and cooking area with a kitchenette around it, with his large pantry and fridge opposite the stove. “Where is your freezer?” Trisha asked.

John snorted. “When we've got all outside?” he asked, waving a hand. She nodded. “I've got another; it's in a shed. I don't need it now,” he said. She nodded again.

He had his old iron stove for heating and cooking; that was a true godsend. He'd considered a brick and mortar fireplace. He loved the look, but the stove was much more efficient and a lot less drafty. Another smaller one he'd given to Eric's family since Carlene was pregnant. They had been very grateful.

“I like the tub,” Ginger said, pointing to the small white, porcelain-coated iron tub in the corner. “What's with the orange bucket though?” She asked.

“Um, chamber pot,” John coughed in his hand.

“Oh.”

“If it's raining or snowing, I don't want to go out and get sick. It has a lid,” he explained lamely.

“So I see,” Ginger said with a thoughtful nod. “I'll have to look into that,” she murmured.

His small bedroom was set up in the loft since the heat in the room would rise and that would be the warmest place. He explained he and Darion had used shark hound skin for sand paper to sand the walls and floor, though they'd skimped when the weather had started getting cold. His bear skin rug wasn't quite large enough to cover the entire floor. It was old, over fifteen years old, but he still loved it.

“I wondered what that fishy smell was from,” Ginger said, sniffing the air. She wrinkled her nose.

John winced. “Yeah, I know it's strong. I've aired the place out, but it lingers. Sorry. I'll stain it later.”

“The smell of the stain will certainly overpower it,” Ginger said. “Fishy smell,” she said. “I hope it fades.”

“I hope so too,” John admitted. He didn't want to admit to himself that what he'd been doing wasn't just for his survival but also as a nest. He felt like a bird, creating an enticing nest for the females to check out. However, none seemed interested in laying her feathers within.

Once he was finished with the cabin, he turned his attention to the rest of his space. He used the metal shelters he'd gotten to cover over the vehicles he had as well as remaining gear, some of which he stored under his cabin or vehicles. He improved the chicken coop, surrounding it with wood piles and adding a door. The dog shelters were improved with roofs that sloped more, and he used hides as curtains for doors. The dogs chewed and soiled them, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Sheds were attached to the side of his house to cover firewood and other things. He preferred to store his wood away from his house, but he knew easy access was vital when it snowing out. He'd even considered cutting a trap door in the floor to get wood, but then had discarded the idea.

Eric had them rig crude shelters built over the fountain area outhouse path. Sal's homemade bricks were used for pathways, fireplaces and other things. Guy showed them how to deal with drainage. He and Miranda didn't have to use the outhouse; he had functional plumbing inside their home. But what they didn't have was running water. They had solar panels on the tile roof but still had to use the community water for washing and bathing.

The cabins and shelters were rather dark. That was a major complaint of the women and many people; no one wanted to spend months in a dark hovel. In order to brighten them up, they explored different applications of glass. Some people used windows from the broken cars, cannibalizing them for parts. Glass from picture frames was also tried, though it wasn't insulated.

Window glass from vehicles was the favorite; some of the homes looked odd with windows made out of glass from cars and trucks, not just passenger windows but rear and front windshields. They used them for normal windows and even skylights.

John insisted on shutters though, and made certain everyone else knew the importance of having them. “Why?” Earl asked, missing the point as they installed a set on Cliff's home.

“Um, animals? Plus storms,” John said, testing the hinge and then the latch. Both had been made from native materials in the forge.

Earl nodded. “Oh. Good point.”

Once Guy Robert's home was finished, he turned his attention totally to their outer defenses. It surprised and amused Cliff who sicked him on John since Carlene was due any day. He hovered around her, waiting on her hand and foot. She was heard to mutter about it, but she admitted privately to Ginger that on the one hand she liked the attention and was amused by the fretting, but he sometimes got under foot. She was about fed up with him despite the foot rubs and food runs when her first contraction hit. It was a powerful one, eliciting a groan. Her water broke a few minutes later soiling her clothes. Cliff's voice rose two octaves as he hollered for Doc.

Doc Brown came running. They escorted the pregnant lady off to her house. The community surrounded the house, milling about, some pretending to work, others talking. Just as a few got bored and thought it would take a while they heard Carlene shriek and then a baby cried. Wendy sniffled, holding her husband's hands on her shoulder. He nuzzled her hair and then ruffled his son's hair.

“It's a girl!” Cliff caroled. That got a watery laugh from Pat. She sniffled, rubbing her nose.

“Two for two so far,” Ginger said.

John, however, hadn't been around to be with the community for the happy event. Guy had been impatient to get to work on the wall having been booted out of the house by his daughter. “Go help! Go find something else to do!” she'd snarled when he'd complained too much about being bored.

They worked feverishly on the outer wall spending fuel like water it seemed. Guy planned out his project for next year, an outer curtain wall of stone and cement next spring. Together with Earl and Gerald they planned it out carefully after a more thorough survey. Guy's digging on the south side had exposed a shelf of rock his home was sitting on. That would serve as a great foundation and part of the moat, but they would have to dig in other places and shore them up for proper foundations.

“Honestly, I don't know how the homes have survived this long as it is. The first tenant of construction is not to build on sand.”

“Well, this isn't sand Guy; it's dirt. Dirt packed in most places and mixed with rock. On a hill, so we don't have to worry about being bogged down,” Earl pointed out. Guy nodded. “I've got a big boulder in my yard. I can't move it; it's a couple yards across and probably as deep. Tons really. And I know there are others here, sprinkled all over to the top of this place.”