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.
Confused, he drove his wagon towards the hay storage area. Ten minutes later he pulled up after going through yet another military check point and was asked what he wanted.
"Well, came for as much hay as I could put on this wagon. Ran out, and my cattle are suffering, so I remembered this stack here, and came by to check," Tom responded, not hopeful at all.
"What kind of animals do you have and how many?" Tom was asked by a no nonsense NCO with seven stripes.
"I have 65 of my heard left down from 80, and five milk cows. I have seven chickens of which five are laying right now and two horses," Tom responded, a bit put off by the attitude.
"I think we can do you better than that. We will load your wagon for you, and also bring a flat bed with us. We can also give you feed for your horses as we have a good supply of oats and some chicken feed too. I think we can keep you going for some months to come, at least till the grass comes back," was the growly reply.
Tom was stunned. This was totally unexpected. An hour later he was loaded as a team of six soldiers loaded his wagon with a will. A line formed and bale after bale of hay was tossed from man to man, and then stacked on the wagon.
So many bales were loaded that Tom was worrying about the horse's ability to move this load. They were strong, but would they be strong enough? There were two small hills to climb on the way back to the farm.
Tom started out with the flat bed rolling along slowly behind him, and it was loaded heavily with bales of Alfalfa. All the hay in his wagon, as well as the flat bed, represented more than enough hay to last 'till next harvest, easily. Particularly with the grass coming back as it was doing.
While the hills slowed the two horses and caused them to struggle a bit, they came through it like the champs they were. Tom was surprised, as the load in the wagon was heavy indeed, but the Clydesdale's handled it well.
Luckily most of the way was level, and the two small hills were the only problem places. There was a two and a half ton truck following with troops and feed and they got out and pushed on the wagon to help the horses a bit on the hills.
An hour and a half later, they arrived back at his farm, and he pulled up to the barn. The soldiers got off the truck and soon started an offload chain putting the hay from the hay wagon into the loft.
The flat bed took the longest to offload. It literally carried hundreds of bales of hay, and it was stacked in tight, on the flatbed trailer. Still, it took only two hours to unload and stack the hay into the barn's loft.
Tom had gone into the house. He had made a platter full of sandwiches and several pots of coffee. He intended to feed these boys for the work they had done and did so. They wolfed down the sandwiches gratefully and the coffee was soon gone.
Tom was going to have to look in the freezer and see if he could find anymore bologna, as they men had just used up all his ready bologna in the form of sandwiches. Still, it was cheap enough at any price.
A soldier approached Tom. It was the NCO in charge of the little group.
"Sir, you are unloaded, we have also offloaded the feed oats and loaded them into the storage bin indicated. Our Lieutenant asked me if you could free up a few cattle for our use and a form of payment for services and supplies rendered," he said.
Tom was startled. He had not expected this as this was supposed to be used for the public good. Come to think of it, it made sense though. He thought about it a moment then answered.
"I can give you five cattle from the herd. That's about it. I lost fifteen over the winter as it is," Tom responded.
"Anything will help, sir. Also, we noticed you have five laying hens, and were wondering if you could spare fresh laid eggs? I am sure five layers produce more than you have personal need for," the sergeant hinted.
Tom grinned. "Come with me sergeant."
Tom led the man to the house and opened the door gesturing for the soldier to precede him. Tom then led him downstairs to the older refrigerator/freezer that was used for odds and ends.
He opened the door to the refrigerator section, and the lower half was loaded with eggs.
"Take all these, with my compliments," Tom said, relieved he was not going to have to throw out yet another large portion of eggs.
The soldier was grateful to say the least. He left with over a hundred eggs in containers of all sorts. Finally the soldiers loaded up and drove off. Tom breathed a sigh of relief. While he had been grateful for the help, they had started to nitpick him to death over supplies. Or so it seemed to him. This help was a two-way sword and while he still felt he had gotten the better deal, he now knew government help came with a price.
They had eyed his fuel tanks while there, and he had been worried he was going to be asked to fill the tanks of these vehicles. He had the fuel, but he was holding it back for the farming equipment.
While he had "borrowed" a delivery truck from the LP gas distributor a while ago, and had it on the property to refill the LP gas tank supplying the house, he had arrived too late to get a fuel truck from the oil company.
Tom looked in the freezer, and noticed he had remembered correctly. There was one bologna stored in the freezer. It was two and a half feet long, and he took it out, set it on the table and took a meat saw down. He cut the bologna in half, and returned half to the deep freezer.
The other half he was going to let thaw, and then cut into thin slices for sandwiches, which he enjoyed either alone, or with a bowl of soup. It made a fine meal by itself. After carrying the bologna upstairs, he put it in the refrigerator for a slow thaw, and then sat down and relaxed.
It had been a very productive day. He looked out over the land and hills of West Virginia, and smiled a smile of satisfaction. He was happy, right now, and felt great accomplishment in a job well done.
Edited by TeNderLoin