The End of Always by Rebecca Phillips

Author:Rebecca Phillips
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: Second Story Press
Published: 2024-05-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

As promised, Russell appears again later in the afternoon to finish the ranch tour for the new arrivals. This time, he leads us through the various fruit and vegetable crops as he chatters on about the importance of a sustainable food supply during a collapse.

“We don’t just stockpile nonperishables here,” he says, turning to address us as we walk single file through a patch of raspberry bushes. Dad and April are at the head of the pack with Kendra and James behind them, baby Micah strapped to James’s back. Nick and his dog are in the middle, while I bring up the rear behind Dane and his parents. “The food we get from hunting and fishing and these gardens—plus our stores of beans and canned goods—would be enough to feed all our members for at least a year.”

Charlene raises her hand. “I have a lot of experience in canning.”

“Excellent,” Russell says, nodding approvingly. “Basic survival skills have all but disappeared in the modern age, but they still come in handy around here.”

As we emerge from the bushes, I spot April stuffing a huge handful of raspberries in her mouth as she skips along beside our father. Dane notices too and glances back at me with an amused smirk. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so disoriented by the sweeping vastness of this place.

We walk past the currently empty barn and corral and keep going to the livestock area, which seems to consist of several free-range chickens and a couple of goats in a fenced-off shed.

“We don’t currently raise cattle here,” Russell says, pausing to face us again. “We get most of our meat from a nearby farm, but we’re hoping to invest in a heifer or two in the next year or so.”

A disapproving look passes between Charlene and Kiana, the resident vegans of our group. Russell, oblivious, continues toward the chicken coops. As we approach, Max suddenly starts barking and straining against his leash. A few seconds later, a big black and white dog lopes toward Russell and almost knocks him over. He rights himself, laughing, and leans down to pet its shaggy coat.

“This is our guard dog, Juno,” he says, looping his fingers through the dog’s collar. “She protects the chickens from foxes and coyotes and other critters.”

Nick keeps a tight hold on Max’s leash as he inches closer to Juno. I assumed an animal raised by someone like Nick would be quick-tempered and ready to attack, but all Max does is sniff the other dog and spin around with a plaintive whine, like he just wants to play. April lets out a loud sneeze, her allergies no match for two dogs.

“Let’s move on,” Russell says. “I have one more place to show you.”

He leads us past the farmland to the very edge of the property, where the forest opens up to a narrow dirt road just big enough for one vehicle. We walk down it, not talking, our feet kicking up dust in the dry afternoon heat. Finally, after about twenty minutes or so, the forest opens up again into a huge grassy field.

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