Chapter 17

The phone rang loudly, waking both of them from their slumber with a jolt. Bryan grasped it, knowing full well who it was.

"Bryan?" the man's voice on the other side asked, just a bit of tension in his voice.

"Yep," Bryan answered sleepily.

"This is Rob Henkel," the voice said again. "I got your email."

"Ah," Bryan said, rubbing at his eye wearily. "We have fourteen acres. We're two hours north of the city. Come up, camp out and let things blow over from here."

There was silence on the other end and Bryan suspected he was being listened to by everyone present. The phone clicked and Rob spoke again.

"I doubt blowing over is something that's going to happen soon. Apparently, according to an acquaintance of mine the National Guard is being deployed to areas all over the US to control rioting and disarray and their orders are to cordon off metropolitan areas. The friend said that they were sending him away from his home area so he didn't feel connected to the locals and desert or disobey orders. So we're due to get a ring around the city of National guardsmen and women from the West coast sometime Sunday night. Monday morning we will be trapped here for better or for worse."

Bryan's mind reeled with the sudden influx of information. "Sounds like they're planning for the long haul," he said slowly. "So why not come out here and hide for the time being..."

"Are you sure?" Rob asked carefully. "I mean, there are seven of us in all. We might be there for months if my friend is right and my suspicions are correct."

Bryan was silent for a bit, counting in his head, computing what a double in his output would do to the supplies. "It wouldn't be free of course," Bryan said. "This is a working farm and there is a lot of work to do around here, even if it is just fourteen acres. Any supplies you bring with you would be appreciated and would buy us as much time as possible."

"Of course," he said. "Excuse me for just a moment." Bryan heard the click as he they muted themselves, likely to discuss what they could bring. A few seconds later there was another click and Rob was back. "We have three vehicles that we can bring loaded to the gills. We will bring a travel trailer, which would accommodate the four adults or the three kids, but some of us may need to pitch tents in a barn or something."

"We have enough food to last us a couple months by ourselves, so maybe we can actually grow something to eat by then." Rob cleared his throat. "Uh, how defensible is your farm?"

Bryan chuckled. "I would say very."

"Good," Rob said. "Just to verify, are we talking about the entire property or just the homestead part?"

"There's a twelve foot wall surrounding the property masked by a thick lattice of vegetation," Bryan said. "There are two entrances and the only area with a high-enough elevation to see in within several miles is well away from the road on state land."

There was a pause on the other end. "I guess that you have done the homework then," Rob said solemnly. "It's going to take us some time to get there. We need to pack up the vehicles and head that way. Can we get directions?"

Bryan gave them directions to a nearby roadside park, with the proviso that they call when they get there.

"Our driveway is nearly impossible to find unless you are looking for it," Bryan explained. "I will come out to the highway on an ATV and lead you back in."

"Can I have GPS coordinates for your farm?" Rob asked, a tinge of suspicion in his voice.

"Sure," Bryan said. He pulled up a digital map of the farm on the computer which had the figures he was looking for. He read the coordinate to the man on the phone.

"That coordinate is the Northeast corner of the property," Bryan clarified. "The property is clearly visible online from the variety of satellite mapping sites, but they aren't very clear. The house and most of the buildings aren't visible because they are sub-grade."

"Nice," Rob said. "That keeps things low key doesn't it?"

"I don't pay taxes on any structures put here after I purchased the property," Bryan said. "If that gives you any idea..."

"It does," Rob answered, seemingly preoccupied. "I see what you mean by the map isn't very clear. How about we just come there since we have GPS to guide us and know how to find it?"

"I guess that's fine," Bryan replied, suddenly realizing that their possible hang-up could be their own distrust of him. "Just come to the gate and call or there's an intercom there at the left of the gate. It's hard to see, because it's covered in vegetation but it's there and it works."

"Ok," Rob said. "I guess we'll get there when we get there."

"Ok," Bryan agreed. "Best of luck to you. See you whenever."

He clicked off the phone and looked around. The sound of Silver showering was audible. He decided to take the opportunity to join her.

He squeezed into the shower stall behind her, pinning her to the wall. She squealed with pleasure at the prospect and a short but animatedly playful wrestling match commenced with absolutely no warm up.

He had pinned her from behind, and reached between the shower wall and herself to fondle her ample bosom. She bit her lip at the sensation then decided to get a bit lippy.

"Mr. Hudson!" she cried in mock indignation. "I am a married woman!"

He chuckled as he rubbed his hands over her slick wet flesh. "That didn't stop you the first time I took advantage of you."

"Dammit you're right," she said grinning. "Oh fine, do what you will," she said feigning resignation at her predicament. "You're going to anyway."

He grinned and nibbled at her shoulder, causing her to forcefully suck in a breath. Through her gritted teeth a soft moan escaped. There wasn't much preamble, as he spun her around like a rag doll. Facing him now she wrapped her arms around his neck to put her weight upon him as he grabbed her legs, pulling them up until her calves lay against his chest, her feet on either side of his face.

He pinned her body against the shower wall and entered her all in one swiftly brutal motion. They both gasped at the intrusion, nerves that had been aroused all night from their argument were lit up like a fireworks show. Without any holding back, adrenaline and passion took over as he slammed her repeatedly against the wall while her body spasmed with pleasure.

Before long the simple fatigue of the contortionist position began to get to them. Bryan let her legs fall to the ground, let her stand on her feet. She kissed at him passionately and he pinned her to the wall again, this time simply embracing her, kissing her as the water rushed over them in a gentle cascade.

After a time, they made their way out of the shower, back into the bedroom and truly "made-up" for the fight the night before.

An hour later, adequately refreshed and Silver with her hair and make-up done up, they ventured out into the rest of the house. The children were up and they had apparently trickled in to eat breakfast, as there were several dishes and two were just getting started.

Bryan sat down with Silver at the breakfast nook, which had a view of the southeast and out across the wall to the valley to the east. There a creek ran in a northeast direction toward the river, just a couple of miles away. The creek was intercepted at by the smaller creek that drained through Bryan's own property, though with the pond and all of the drainage ditches it never got very much water in it these days.

The sun was up, and it appeared to be a clear day, no clouds in the sky. The landscape, though still wearing its brown winter clothes, had begun to sport a touch of green from place to place.

"Looks like it's going to be a good day," Bryan said, eyeing the thermometer on the window. "It's almost forty-five outside already."

She smiled and looked up from her phone, already well into the first few text messages of the morning. "I think I just want toast sweetie," she said. Her head ducked back down, her eyes watching the tiny screen, her thumbs moving rapidly. It was nearly a minute before she noticed that he was standing there casually, looking at her with a peculiar expression on his face.

"Did you hear me? I want toast."

His eyebrows shot up a little higher. She looked at him for a second, uncomprehending what he was doing, before the light bulb in her head flashed on.

"Uh, please?" she asked sheepishly.

His expression softened, he smiled, and went to make her some toast.

Toast around the Hudson household was something that most people would not recognize as such. Bryan baked bread for the family, usually once a week and he made large fluffy loaves of whole wheat bread that wouldn't have been recognizable as such. Typically Monday was his baking day, so the bread from the previous Monday was getting somewhat aged and perfect for toast.

There was a large bread box along one counter where the bread was stored. Bryan used old hot-dog and hamburger bun bags to keep the bread relatively fresh inside, though he had to cut the loaves in half before they would fit.

It appeared as though the kids had decimated all but half of one loaf. He removed the remaining chunk of bread, set it in the slicing guide. With a bread knife which resided permanently in the bread box he sliced the chunk down to oblivion.

The bread that he baked required a toaster larger than normal to accommodate the larger than normal slices. The best he had come up was a toaster designed for bagels, and even then it was a tight squeeze.

He placed four slices into the toaster and pressed the button down, watching the glow emanate from inside. He looked over at Silver, who was still texting away with zeal.

"Cream cheese?" he asked.

She didn't look up but nodded. "Please?" she added as an afterthought.

He stepped to the refrigerator and retrieved the jar of cream cheese from the door. The cream cheese was something else not done to normal specifications. Bryan typically bought cream cheese on sale and can it in Mason jars for long term storage. This was a practice that the FDA did not recommend, but entire generations had done it for decades with hardly any ill effects, and those could likely be attributed to improper techniques.

To do so, he would wash the jars and towel dry them, then place them in the oven, bottoms up. He would heat the jars to two hundred fifty degrees Fahrenheit and let them sit there until they were ready.