Zombie apocalypse fiction – Ruth’s story #115 Life on a farm with cannibals #SHTF #TEOTWAWKI

Sam chuckles at Honey’s joke. He looks around the table at the other convoy members. Looking at Jeff sitting in the corner furiously taking notes, he sighs. “Jeff, where are Scarecrow and his lady friend this morning?” he asks.

“They are supposed to be in the south quadrant on guard duty.” Jeff replies after looking at the schedule.

Sam pauses for a moment as if thinking. He looks around the table which has fallen silent. I wonder what exactly is going through Sam’s mind right now. I also wonder if he has any idea that there might traitors within the company. You cannot have such an autocratic chain of command and not expect some malcontents.

“But now we have to decide if we are going to question Scarecrow and his lady friend about their activities. I would like to speak with Nguen as well.” Sam sighs.

When Pastor, Dougie, Rain and Carmine enter the dining room, they are quickly brought up to speed by Sam. While Sam briefs the new arrivals, my attention wanders. Outside the sun has managed to peek through the clouds.

I note that Barbara is out in the yard flirting with some of the QRF lads. Barbara, although not the sharpest tool in the shed and despite her continuous nervous habit of fucking with her hair has proven to be an apt firearms pupil.

Barbara will probably never be an excellent shot, and she has trouble remembering how to load some of the weapons, but at least she has the good sense to ask someone rather than fuck around. I just wish she did not provoke the boys to follow her around the yard with their tongues hanging out.

It is a shame that neuro-linguistic programming (NLP) proved to be such a failure. I wonder if Barbara would respond to NLP or like so many other great ideas in psychology; NLP is pure bullshit. The Mossad just like other intelligence agencies fooled around with NLP back in its heyday, but once NLP proved to be more talk than proof, NLP quickly fell out of favor.

There are many things though that NLP did do well. With all of the mental problems we are likely to see and suffer, I wonder if old theories like NLP might deserve a revisit. As far as I am aware we do not have a psychologist within the camp, which is a shame because we desperately need one.

Having dogs around the camp has seemed to help with a little of the depression and stress. Saving dogs from the pot was one of the hardest tasks for the Adventists. They have been selective towards which dogs they keep from cooking. Dogs that cannot retrieve, hunt, herd or protect are quickly eaten. I have become resigned to the fact that I have dined on dog frequently.

Other than a few purebred Huskies, Labradors, Australian Sheep Dogs, and Malamutes most of the dogs are mongrels. There are a few rogue Maremma, Komondor and Great Pyrenees Sheepdogs, but these dogs are not friendly and are likely to tear your arm off should you approach them.

Brenda occasionally pins one of the huge shaggy sheepdogs in a sheep squeeze chute. With the growling and snapping dog secured, Brenda combs the furry monster, applies flea and tick medicine, and trims the hair around the eyes so the poor thing can see. Caring for the dogs is the main source of the dog hair used in the socks so many of the company are now wearing.

Perhaps because of my musings about the mental state of our group, I missed the end of breakfast. I hope that I did not miss anything important. Shack and I are practically asleep on our feet. The group breaks up as the cooks clear our breakfast dishes. As Shack and I walk to the tent, I reflect on the last few days events.

One good thing of the constant damp and cold is a huge mushroom bloom. The forests and areas near the farm are loaded with a variety of mushrooms. Brenda in one of the transplanted greenhouses wrapped in construction plastic film constructed large mushroom growing beds.

Mushrooms grow in the greenhouse in beds filled with sawdust, manure, and straw. We have plenty of sawdust around the farm but straw is rare. Between the TimberKing© band saw lumber mill and the near constant chain saw usage, there is no shortage of sawdust. Some of the sawdust is dumped into the methanol production vats, while some gets dumped as mulch.

Used in the latrines sawdust helps absorb moisture and odors especially the red cedar sawdust. The smell of cedar helps keep the bugs away, another constant pest well acclimated to the damp and cold. Burning red cedar appears to help keep the bugs at bay, as well. I am not sure if the sawdust in the latrine pits helps with the decomposition, as quick lime would, but at least it is something that appears to help even a little.

Because cheap cotton clothing wears out so quickly, we are replacing our cheap clothes with durable denim, wool and heavy cotton. Despite the gross shivers it gives me thinking about it, we did recover quite a bit of good quality Carhartt work wear from the ruins of the cannibal Walmart.

Once boiled and washed thoroughly, the recovered Carhartt work wear is quickly given out to company members needing clothes. With the cheap clothing, we had once grown accustomed to wearing, falling off of our bodies or ruined in the course of a day, the demand for good quality durable clothes is extreme.

With growing children in the camp, demand for durable children’s clothing is also very high. Junior’s favorite black cotton tee-shirt with the gutter Latin phrase Nullum Gratuitum Prandium (there is no free lunch, thank you, Oscar Wild) emblazoned across the chest in silvery letters is falling off of his body.

Because of the flames from the incendiary rounds and thermite, a lot of what the cannibal’s stockpile burnt. It took a few days of the lads sifting through the wreckage, but it did provide some needed supplies.