Persephone: Goddess of the Not So Undead by Regan Wolfrom

Author:Regan Wolfrom [Wolfrom, Regan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wolfrom Writes
Published: 2013-12-17T05:00:00+00:00

10 - Enderlin is for Lovers

David and I took the horses along the old rail line until we reached the first road that could take us south toward Enderlin, leaving the shotgun and the ankle-biting hunting dog with my father. David led the way, since he’s hung around there since the moment he was conceived. And he’s familiar enough with horses, not that I’ve ever seen him happy to be on the back of one.

From what I knew, he’d only ridden when Iris had asked him to.

I think that horse-hate comes from living on a farm. Townies like me think they’re these exotic creatures, with graceful manes and powerful legs. Country boys like David really just see the hard and smelly work with very little payoff.

Aside from getting and possibly keeping girls like Iris.

I guess that counts for something.

That might be the only reason most country boys don’t chop those horses up into delicious horsey steaks.

“I’m sorry about how I acted back there,” David told me as we passed along the side of a large slough. “I know I’ve been really hard on you, Seffy.”

“I get it,” I said. “This isn’t fun. We’re all barely hanging on.”

“You’re hanging on just fine. I’ve never really seen you like this.”

“Like what? Exhausted and cranky? Because that’s most Wednesday mornings.”

“Taking charge. You’ve always been so quiet around Iris and me… like you’re just some kind of chaperone.”

“Iris has always been the center,” I said. “The bright and shiny object in the middle of it all.”

“Yeah… too bright sometimes. God, Seffy… I can’t handle this…”

“We focus on what needs to happen. That’s how we handle it.”

“Yeah… I guess.”

We passed by a yardsite. Old farmhouse, forgotten sheds… I’d say three out of four farms are like this, the current owners only worried about the fields. Those new owners would obviously rather not have those layers of someone’s family history and various household toxins lying on top of a half acre of arable land. But it’s not worth the money to tear it all down and clean up the plot.

It makes me think of Little House on the Prairie, of families settling a new place and another, and another, and scraping by and working hard, but working together.

I’ll bet Charles Ingalls didn’t have a secret family. And his wife Caroline probably never tried to cook a fishbowl in the oven, goldfish included.

We don’t have to worry about the material hardships as much, or didn’t, before sometime yesterday morning. I guess messed up families had to take over for a while.

“This might be a good place to end up,” David said. “If things don’t work out in Fargo.”

“Not a vote of confidence,” I said.

“Having a Plan B doesn’t say anything about the worth of Plan A.”

“There won’t be a Plan B, David. You know that, right?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Do you even know what it’s like in town right now?”

“Again… no…”

“Imagine what happens if you have a thousand infected people who don’t even look infected running around a city of a hundred thousand people… you end up with a hundred thousand infected people soon enough.

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