Chapter 30

For two years, Tom Spathsky had been traveling the country, stopping only to work and to move on. He started out touring the US on his twenty-fifth birthday. He had bought a small RV and was self sufficient, for the most part.

He ran out of money two months into the trip and decided to work his way across the country. He had the occasional breakdown he had to pay to get fixed when he couldn't do it, himself. Sometimes, those took a lot of money.

Still, over all he was having a good time. He just kept going when he could. In two years he had seen a lot of America, but in his mind, he had more to see. So he had kept going.

He stopped in a rural area and got a job delivering LP gas to outlying farms and homes in the area. It was during one such delivery that he had been offered a job by the co-owner of the LP gas distributor he worked for.

This was where he found himself working and living when the disaster hit. He now had the farm to himself. The owners had left, shortly before the disaster, to try to convince their children to return to the farm. They never made it back.

The owners had been an elderly couple, who couldn't do all the work alone, anymore. They reminded him of his grandparents. While they were tough people, they were fair. They gave him room, board, and one thousand dollars a month to live and work on the farm.

He had been living and working there for nine months solid, when the disaster hit. Since the government had not informed the public that the asteroids had split off into large meteors, the public was caught by surprise.

Gary and Ruth Kingsly had been out of state trying to get their children to return to the farm until the danger passed, when the disaster hit. That had been months ago. He had lost track of time.

The month of rains had ruined the current crops in the fields, and he was worried about feeding the remaining animals. He had refilled the huge gas bottle/tank on the farm just a couple weeks ago, and the generator was working nicely.

He had gas, electric, and all the modern comforts at his disposal. He rummaged through the kitchen pantry and came up with a can of tomato soup and crackers. He still had plenty of food left, but was very frugal with his meals.

The Kingsly's were very concerned with keeping a six-month supply of food on hand at any one time. After the disaster, he had gone out and raided several places for their supplies, and so had added to the stores of the farm.

The Kingsly's had been big believers in investing, and owned large percentages of local services. Besides being half owner of the LP gas distributor, they owned thirty percent of the local heating oil franchise also.

They had never converted the farmhouse to a gas heat. They heated with fuel oil, instead. They had a five hundred gallon tank, which was not as expensive as you might imagine since they were part owners. Delivery was free, and they reaped a huge discount on price.

Finally, there was a one thousand gallon unleaded gasoline tank buried about five hundred feet from the house which supplied fuel for the vehicles, and a one thousand gallon diesel tank for the tractors and other farm machinery. Tom estimated he still had over five hundred gallons in each tank.

Winter had set in with a vengeance, and while trees broke the wind that blew towards the house, it was still cold and windy on the hill the house was situated on. Snow was a foot deep outside and new snow was threatening.

The weather had been screwed up since the strike, and Tom was worried about next planting season. He had seed, but this would be his first time doing it alone. He knew what to do, having gone through it once before, but was still unsure of himself.

He had been saving manure in a pile by the barn for the garden he would plant in the spring. It was becoming quite a large pile to be sure. Still, manure was the best fertilizer he had at his command, now.

He had five head of cattle that stayed in the barn all year round, providing milk and the by-product of butter, and another eighty head he was nursing through the winter months. That eighty head stayed in the fields. He was unsure what he would do with them, but fresh meat was not a concern for him. He knew how to kill and skin a cow, having helped Mr. Kingsly twice before. Cutting it up was not too difficult, once he had been shown how.

With winter mostly over, and a much thinned out herd (down to 65 from the original 80, ), Tom decided to go out and try to find hay and feed for the animals. He first went to close in places, knowing these places had been abandoned earlier.

He scrounged up 40 rounds of alfalfa, and there was straw enough to be had if he wanted it. Straw was useless as feed, but it covered the floor of the barn nicely, and also acted as an insulator.

Two of the animals he had and that remained close to the barn always, were the two Clydesdale horses. These had been the prize possession of the Kingsly's. Tom had actually helped harness them to wagons three times before, so had an idea of what to do, but it was a complicated harness system, and he made several mistakes.

One of the horses kept looking at him like he was an idiot, but stood patiently while he figured out the mistakes. Finally he was ready, and he headed the hay wagon, with side boards added towards the road. He was taking a chance, but it was a good one.

Just before he quit working for the LP gas distributor, he had gone down a road that seemed unused, and saw three huge storage sheds, open on the sides, being filled with feed hay. He doubted anyone else knew they were there.

He was going to go and try to raid it for feed for the horses and cattle. He wanted to save on the fuel as much as possible for the upcoming plowing and seeding. Then there would be harvesting later on. It was going to be tight and he knew it.

An hour later he turned up the road to the LP storage depot, and found it crawling with military. He was stopped several times and asked his name. He gave it wondering what was going on, but was waved through each time. Apparently his name was on an access list.