REE REE REE REE
A hand slapped out from under the light blanket, grabbing the phone. A bright light illuminated his tired face as he shut off the alarm. He closed his phone, sighing as he rolled onto his back. 5:30 already. His wife rolled over toward him, as she did every morning, nuzzling in close against his chest. He smiled, pressing his lips against her forehead. Fifteen more minutes. He laid there, enjoying the feeling of her warmth as he woke up more. He could feel the stiffness in his back from the day before. His neck was sore. He needed a new pillow.
Twenty minutes passed in silence, until he pulled himself out from under her arms, slipping his pillow there in his stead. He strode across the room, phone in hand, as he hit the switch for the table lamp. Their bedroom was small, but comfortable. There was a smile pile of clothes there, where he’d left them when he came in from the fields last night. He picked them up, putting them in the hamper now. He grabbed another white t-shirt, throwing it on, followed by his button up and work pants. He cast one last look at his sleeping wife, smiling, until he slipped out of the bedroom door, quietly closing it behind him.
He made his way to the kitchen, flipping on the light, followed by the switch for the coffee maker. When he didn’t hear the bubbling of water, he groaned, flipping the switch off. He’d forgotten to reload it again. He grabbed the Tupperware of grounds, thankful he didn’t need to run the grinder this early. He dumped the old grounds into the compost can, put in a new filter, and got the water going. The coffee now percolating, he made his way to the fridge, grabbing the bag of bagels, cream cheese, and creamer, setting them atop the counter. He checked the crack next to the window, relieved to not see a line of ants marching in. Seems they finally gave up the relentless invasion.
He grabbed a paper towel, folded it in half, laying it upon the counter, as he set two bagels, halved, into the toaster oven. He pulled open the drawer, having to give it an extra jerk as it got snagged a bit, rattling the cutlery inside. He plucked out a butter knife, setting it on his paper towel. The room began to smell heavily of the coffee, and he saw the pot was full. He grabbed two mugs, setting one aside, as he poured his. He dropped in a generous amount of the caramel creamer, always enjoying watching the clouds that formed in the coffee until it evened out.
He took a sip, relishing the sweet coffee, more enjoying the ritual than the taste. He wasn’t particular when it came to coffee so he simply went for cheap. The toaster oven dinged, and he grabbed out two of the halves, leaving the other two behind. He slathered on a thick layer of cream cheese on them, then carried the lot to the dining room. He bumped on the light, sitting down. He set his coffee on his right, his bagel right in front of him, and pulled out of his phone.
In the silence of the morning, he checked the weather. Three inches of rain last night, perfect. High of 95F, indexing at 105. Yuck. It would be really sweaty today. He took the first bite of his bagel, a little extra toasty just how he liked it, as he opened his news app. The back door opened and a young, Hispanic woman walked in, in her usual garb of a floral bikini top, shorts, and tall Muck boots. Her long, dark hair was wet, and she was still dripping as she removed her boots, setting them in the corner with the collection of the others. She grabbed her towel off the hook, patting herself dry. “Good morning, boss!”
“Morning, Maria.”
She cheerfully moved into the kitchen, poured a coffee, black, and prepped her own bagel. She came in, sitting on the bench across from him. She opened her own phone, as she ate a bit noisily, when he spoke again, “Looks like your dancing went well last night.” Maria perked right up, “Oh my god, it was great. I was right in my groove. I found a rhythm in the singing of the frogs and it just flowed right out of me.”
“The app says three inches.”
She snorted, “Your rain gauge says four, you know those weathermen don’t know what they’re doin, Frank. No one can predict a raindance, not even me.”
He smiled, returning back to reading his news, sipping his coffee and finishing his bagel. Typical news. A man robbed a bank in Austin and was shot in the street. Another hurricane was on its way, this one called Weston. Religious groups still flooded the streets, demanding the powers of Satan not be used, politicians calling for either increasing or decreasing the funding of law enforcement. Nothing exciting.
Over the next half hour, the rest of the farm staff woke up, and the dining room was full of chatter. “Jackson, gonna need you to finish harvesting the soybeans today, gotta get those into processing. Julia and Guillermo, peanuts should be about ready too. Keep an eye out though, we saw a rattler in there late last night. Everyone else, daily harvest routine, then go into your weeding and cultivating. Hailey, don’t forget your radio today.”
Everyone nodded, grabbing their hats, gloves, water bottles, pulling on their boots, grabbing radios, and headed out to the farm. Frank walked over to the window, looking out the driveway, seeing Harry and Sally laying there, a pair of German shepherds, guarding the road in, as always. Frank walked out, and the two barked, loping over to him, as he knelt down to scratch their heads. “Did y’all have a good night shift?”
Sally’s mouth didn’t move, but he heard her voice in his head, “Coyotes at the edge of the territory, none got in. Bobcat trail down in the south pond. Caught six rats. All birds alive.”
Frank smiled, “Well done, both of you. Go relax now, let your brothers take guard.”
Both dogs barked happily in response, heading off to the dog barn. Frank turned toward the farm, smiling as he looked over the shade tunnels, seeing the many workers get to it. It was a crazy world these days since the Flare, but still, there was always peace to have on a farm. He tipped his hat down, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.
A hand slapped out from under the light blanket, grabbing the phone. A bright light illuminated his tired face as he shut off the alarm. He closed his phone, sighing as he rolled onto his back. 5:30 already. His wife rolled over toward him, as she did every morning, nuzzling in close against his chest. He smiled, pressing his lips against her forehead. Fifteen more minutes. He laid there, enjoying the feeling of her warmth as he woke up more. He could feel the stiffness in his back from the day before. His neck was sore. He needed a new pillow.
Twenty minutes passed in silence, until he pulled himself out from under her arms, slipping his pillow there in his stead. He strode across the room, phone in hand, as he hit the switch for the table lamp. Their bedroom was small, but comfortable. There was a smile pile of clothes there, where he’d left them when he came in from the fields last night. He picked them up, putting them in the hamper now. He grabbed another white t-shirt, throwing it on, followed by his button up and work pants. He cast one last look at his sleeping wife, smiling, until he slipped out of the bedroom door, quietly closing it behind him.
He made his way to the kitchen, flipping on the light, followed by the switch for the coffee maker. When he didn’t hear the bubbling of water, he groaned, flipping the switch off. He’d forgotten to reload it again. He grabbed the Tupperware of grounds, thankful he didn’t need to run the grinder this early. He dumped the old grounds into the compost can, put in a new filter, and got the water going. The coffee now percolating, he made his way to the fridge, grabbing the bag of bagels, cream cheese, and creamer, setting them atop the counter. He checked the crack next to the window, relieved to not see a line of ants marching in. Seems they finally gave up the relentless invasion.
He grabbed a paper towel, folded it in half, laying it upon the counter, as he set two bagels, halved, into the toaster oven. He pulled open the drawer, having to give it an extra jerk as it got snagged a bit, rattling the cutlery inside. He plucked out a butter knife, setting it on his paper towel. The room began to smell heavily of the coffee, and he saw the pot was full. He grabbed two mugs, setting one aside, as he poured his. He dropped in a generous amount of the caramel creamer, always enjoying watching the clouds that formed in the coffee until it evened out.
He took a sip, relishing the sweet coffee, more enjoying the ritual than the taste. He wasn’t particular when it came to coffee so he simply went for cheap. The toaster oven dinged, and he grabbed out two of the halves, leaving the other two behind. He slathered on a thick layer of cream cheese on them, then carried the lot to the dining room. He bumped on the light, sitting down. He set his coffee on his right, his bagel right in front of him, and pulled out of his phone.
In the silence of the morning, he checked the weather. Three inches of rain last night, perfect. High of 95F, indexing at 105. Yuck. It would be really sweaty today. He took the first bite of his bagel, a little extra toasty just how he liked it, as he opened his news app. The back door opened and a young, Hispanic woman walked in, in her usual garb of a floral bikini top, shorts, and tall Muck boots. Her long, dark hair was wet, and she was still dripping as she removed her boots, setting them in the corner with the collection of the others. She grabbed her towel off the hook, patting herself dry. “Good morning, boss!”
“Morning, Maria.”
She cheerfully moved into the kitchen, poured a coffee, black, and prepped her own bagel. She came in, sitting on the bench across from him. She opened her own phone, as she ate a bit noisily, when he spoke again, “Looks like your dancing went well last night.” Maria perked right up, “Oh my god, it was great. I was right in my groove. I found a rhythm in the singing of the frogs and it just flowed right out of me.”
“The app says three inches.”
She snorted, “Your rain gauge says four, you know those weathermen don’t know what they’re doin, Frank. No one can predict a raindance, not even me.”
He smiled, returning back to reading his news, sipping his coffee and finishing his bagel. Typical news. A man robbed a bank in Austin and was shot in the street. Another hurricane was on its way, this one called Weston. Religious groups still flooded the streets, demanding the powers of Satan not be used, politicians calling for either increasing or decreasing the funding of law enforcement. Nothing exciting.
Over the next half hour, the rest of the farm staff woke up, and the dining room was full of chatter. “Jackson, gonna need you to finish harvesting the soybeans today, gotta get those into processing. Julia and Guillermo, peanuts should be about ready too. Keep an eye out though, we saw a rattler in there late last night. Everyone else, daily harvest routine, then go into your weeding and cultivating. Hailey, don’t forget your radio today.”
Everyone nodded, grabbing their hats, gloves, water bottles, pulling on their boots, grabbing radios, and headed out to the farm. Frank walked over to the window, looking out the driveway, seeing Harry and Sally laying there, a pair of German shepherds, guarding the road in, as always. Frank walked out, and the two barked, loping over to him, as he knelt down to scratch their heads. “Did y’all have a good night shift?”
Sally’s mouth didn’t move, but he heard her voice in his head, “Coyotes at the edge of the territory, none got in. Bobcat trail down in the south pond. Caught six rats. All birds alive.”
Frank smiled, “Well done, both of you. Go relax now, let your brothers take guard.”
Both dogs barked happily in response, heading off to the dog barn. Frank turned toward the farm, smiling as he looked over the shade tunnels, seeing the many workers get to it. It was a crazy world these days since the Flare, but still, there was always peace to have on a farm. He tipped his hat down, rolled up his sleeves, and got to work.