Home Coming (The Survivalist Book 10) by A. American (best business books of all time .TXT) 📗

“It won’t start,” she replied glumly.

I smiled, “Already tried it, huh?”

With a half-smile, she nodded. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. It’s so cool and I want to take it for a ride.”

“Your mother is not going to be happy.”

Now with a full smile, she said, “You’ll just have to convince her it’s alright.”

“Oh! It’s my job? You better start coming up with your case. Convincing her is on you!” I replied with a laugh.

She reached out and gripped the throttle handle for a moment before letting it go and walking back to the house. I could see the youthful infatuation in her eyes. I remembered it from when I was young. I’d had a motorcycle too and it was the ultimate freedom when I got it. It gave me the leeway to go where I wanted, when I wanted. That initial taste of highway liberty was exhilarating, and I understood the tug of it. But selling that to her mom would be another story.

CHAPTER 5

I woke feeling refreshed. Like I’d just had the best night’s sleep in my life. Maybe it was the thought that things would be different now. That our greatest threat was at last vanquished. Or so I hoped anyway. Whatever it was, I felt great. Leaving Mel in the bed, I went to the kitchen with the intention of cooking breakfast. But there were only a couple of eggs in the fridge. No matter, the egg factory was next door.

Since the introduction of the automatic chicken feeder, we’d kept the bucket supplied with one form of leftovers or another. As a result, the coop was a little aromatic at times. But the cloud of flies it drew created plenty of feed for the birds. Between that and them being allowed to free range during the day, they stayed well fed; and as a result, the egg yield was plentiful. We could count on at least a couple dozen eggs a day; and as the flock grew, so would production.

I collected a half-dozen eggs to take home. It was normally the kids’ job to check the nesting boxes every day and bring the eggs in. They’d be around later for the rest. Wishing we had sausage, something Thad and I needed to deal with, I scrambled up a large skillet of eggs. Since we had flour, I mixed up a batch of dough and made biscuits as well. Butter was thankfully still available, and when they were done, I brushed the tops with it. A scoop of eggs stuffed inside a buttery biscuit was a pretty damn good breakfast.

Not wanting to wake anyone up, I went out to the porch and enjoyed my breakfast with a glass of tea. Something else I needed to check on, how much tea was left. It would be a sad day when it ran out. But I did have an alternative. It would just mean getting out into the woods to find it. Living in Florida, I’m fortunate to share the woods with the plant that has the highest amount of caffeine. The Seminole Indians used it for ceremonies as well as daily consumption. When the Spaniards first contacted native Florida tribes, they were introduced to it and soon became addicted to the effects of the caffeine. Luckily, I know where to find the yaupon holly.

As I finished my breakfast, the dogs came trotting back up. They looked as though they’d had a long night and didn’t even bother sniffing around to see what I had. They simply collapsed on the deck with their tongues lolling from their mouths. With my breakfast done, I went back inside. I wanted to wake everyone up, so they could have a hot breakfast. But I found Mel already up. She was fixing biscuits for the girls when I came in.

“I was just coming to wake you up,” I said.

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier? I would have made breakfast.”

I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. “I wanted you to sleep. And I know how to cook too.”

“Yes, you do. These biscuits are amazing. Wish we had some gravy to go with them.”

“I’m going to get with Thad on that. See what we have for hogs that are ready to butcher. We’ll get one done. We need soap as well. So, now’s as good a time as any.”

Mel carried her plate over to the table and sat down, eyeing me suspiciously. “What?” I asked.

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, the top one bouncing up and down. “So, uh, you talk to Lee Ann?”

I shrugged. “Yeah.”

She leaned forward and took a bite of her biscuit. Wiping her mouth with a cloth, she asked, “What’d you talk about?”

I knew where she was going with this. She obviously knew about the motorcycle and there was no sense in pretending otherwise. “She asked about Jeff’s Harley. She said she wants to get it running so she can ride it.”

Her leg was bouncing again. “And you didn’t tell her no?”

“No, I didn’t. Whether we like it or not, our girls are growing up. We can’t treat them like kids forever.”

“But those things are so dangerous.”

I smiled. “I don’t seem to remember you complaining when you were on the back of mine.”

She scowled, “That was different.”

“You’re right, it was. It was far more dangerous when we were running around on one. There’s no traffic now. The likelihood of her being hit by another car is nonexistent. Hell, even the odds of a deer running out in front of her are almost zero.”

She wasn’t liking my line of reasoning. “I don’t care. They’re still dangerous.”

“Look, they’re good kids. Their lives have been altered so profoundly that we can’t look back on the way things used to be as a reference for right and wrong. I’m going to get the bike running and I’ll teach her how to