01-13-2018, 08:24 PM
A couple songs into the drive and the music faded and died altogether. Jay sighed and pushed a button to switch the dashboard to sync with his wallet. Anticipating the dead spot in this part of the country existed, he'd preloaded some music locally on the device. There definitely wasn't cell signal out here either. So he hung onto the steering wheel with one hand and rummaged around in a pocket in order to dig out the satellite plug. He popped it into the wallet and nodded in satisfaction when music streamed through the speakers again. The playlist wasn't long, and he'd listened to it repeatedly all week, but the wallet wasn't exactly brand new off the shelf tech. It could only hold so many songs. Besides, when the playlist was this kickass, it would never grow old.
The truck rumbled over a shallow spot in a ditch as he pulled into the corn field. The horizon was a line of double-stacked round bales of hay that made an impromptu wall on the northwestern side of the field. They lined a small ridge that sloped downward where the cattle were penned together. It didn't seem like much, but it kept the worst of the wind off their backs, and in this kind of weather, every single degree mattered.
His dad's truck was already parked and dad had the tailgate down, dropping the first of big bags of grain on the ground. The cattle could typically fill up on the stalks left behind after the harvest, but in the extreme cold, they needed special feed. It was a high metabolic blend that literally warmed their bodies from the inside out. Fucking expensive, but less so than if all the cattle died. Besides, the extreme cold was set to last only a couple of weeks.
Jay's truck rumbled up beside his father's, and Jay took a last swig of coffee before he bundled himself up. He was literally just a pair of eyeballs when he swung out of the cabin. Everything else was smothered in carhartt gear. Layers of it. He liked things like his toes.
Wordlessly, he went ahead and unloaded his own gear. Dad was already half way to the feed troughs with a bag when Jay hefted one on each shoulder and followed along. The livestock figured it out a couple days ago, and as soon as they heard the truck engines were gathering in anticipation. This grain was like fucking dessert for them. Expensive, but kept them all alive.
Switchblades open, they each opened a sack and began to dump it in. Dad grunted under the weight of the first bag, which Jay understood, but there were a dozen more to carry down the hill. Dad uncurled upright and knuckled the small of his back. He wasn't as young as he used to be. Jay frowned. "I'll get the rest, dad. You grab the chainsaw and get the ice?"
A nod was his response. Dad didn't argue too much. Besides, Jay didn't mind the workout. Being exhausted was exactly why he was sleeping better at night. One of the cattle glanced up when the chainsaw ripped to life nearby. Jay pat it on the nose with a thick gloved hand and tromped back up the hill to grab the sledgehammer. Funny that growing up he called these slopes 'hills.' To this day he recalled the awe at the steep hills of the mountains in southern California waiting for him in basic training. Then when the awe turned to terror that they had to run up those fucking hills, with rucksacks, in 120 degree heat, without water, three times a day. Damn those had been days of fucking glory! He missed it.
They spent the next few hours going back and forth from the barn to more fields to drop feed in troughs and break up the ice formed over ponds and water tanks. The chainsaw was the easiest way to get through pond ice, but the thing ran on gasoline, and it basically smoked money like weed. Dad used it, but Jay opted for the sledgehammer. Besides, the extra work efforts kept him warm.
They ate lunch in their respective trucks, but Jay was looking forward to a warm pan of meatloaf that night. Sunset came fast enough. The afternoon temperatures rose to a balmy -12, so basically rather than freezing to death in 3 minutes, an abandoned guy might freeze to death in 3.5 minutes. But the sledgehammer and grain sacks did their work. He was rather warm and pulled the hood of his mask up over his face when dad approached.
"I'm all packed up. About done?"
He glanced at the sledgehammer leaning against Jay's leg. He looked weary.
Jay nodded, "yeah. This is the last water trough. I'll get it broke up and get out of here. I'm starving."
His dad smirked, "Me too, son. Let me get another hammer and help."
Jay shook his head. "Don't worry about it. This'll only take a minutes. Go ahead and go. I'll be right behind you."
His dad frowned, glanced at the trough, and shrugged. "Alright. See you ... at home."
He hesitated over that last bit, but Jay didn't think much of it. Soon enough, dad climbed into his truck, and it rumbled away. Jay took a deep breath. Fog frosted in front of his face and ice crystals poked the inside of his nose, but the cold swirled painfully good inside his chest. He changed songs on his wallet to a good old Five Finger track, rolled the mask back over his face, and hefted the sledge hammer. The force of it slammed down with satisfying smack on the ice. It splintered into a thousand cracks at his feet. Then he hefted it up for another swing. Again and again. He was almost disappointed when the last of the ice swirled around the liberated water.
Taking a deep breath, he dropped the hammer into the back of the truck and climbed in himself. He liberated his own face of all the layers and scanned the horizon. He hadn't thought about El Tiburon in hours. The sky was dim. If it weren't for the white blanket of snow glittering flecks of light, it would be even darker. Now that he was sitting, he felt the full weight of fatigue settle into his bones. It was wonderful. Almost too tired to even think. The cattle were huddled together except for the bunch drinking up their water.
His stomach rumbled and he remembered the meatloaf waiting at home. He dug out his wallet, battery was running low having used it all day, but was plenty to jam along with some music for the drive home. He thrust the key in the ignition, turned it, and his heart sank.
The truck wouldn't start.
"You gotta be kidding me."
The truck rumbled over a shallow spot in a ditch as he pulled into the corn field. The horizon was a line of double-stacked round bales of hay that made an impromptu wall on the northwestern side of the field. They lined a small ridge that sloped downward where the cattle were penned together. It didn't seem like much, but it kept the worst of the wind off their backs, and in this kind of weather, every single degree mattered.
His dad's truck was already parked and dad had the tailgate down, dropping the first of big bags of grain on the ground. The cattle could typically fill up on the stalks left behind after the harvest, but in the extreme cold, they needed special feed. It was a high metabolic blend that literally warmed their bodies from the inside out. Fucking expensive, but less so than if all the cattle died. Besides, the extreme cold was set to last only a couple of weeks.
Jay's truck rumbled up beside his father's, and Jay took a last swig of coffee before he bundled himself up. He was literally just a pair of eyeballs when he swung out of the cabin. Everything else was smothered in carhartt gear. Layers of it. He liked things like his toes.
Wordlessly, he went ahead and unloaded his own gear. Dad was already half way to the feed troughs with a bag when Jay hefted one on each shoulder and followed along. The livestock figured it out a couple days ago, and as soon as they heard the truck engines were gathering in anticipation. This grain was like fucking dessert for them. Expensive, but kept them all alive.
Switchblades open, they each opened a sack and began to dump it in. Dad grunted under the weight of the first bag, which Jay understood, but there were a dozen more to carry down the hill. Dad uncurled upright and knuckled the small of his back. He wasn't as young as he used to be. Jay frowned. "I'll get the rest, dad. You grab the chainsaw and get the ice?"
A nod was his response. Dad didn't argue too much. Besides, Jay didn't mind the workout. Being exhausted was exactly why he was sleeping better at night. One of the cattle glanced up when the chainsaw ripped to life nearby. Jay pat it on the nose with a thick gloved hand and tromped back up the hill to grab the sledgehammer. Funny that growing up he called these slopes 'hills.' To this day he recalled the awe at the steep hills of the mountains in southern California waiting for him in basic training. Then when the awe turned to terror that they had to run up those fucking hills, with rucksacks, in 120 degree heat, without water, three times a day. Damn those had been days of fucking glory! He missed it.
They spent the next few hours going back and forth from the barn to more fields to drop feed in troughs and break up the ice formed over ponds and water tanks. The chainsaw was the easiest way to get through pond ice, but the thing ran on gasoline, and it basically smoked money like weed. Dad used it, but Jay opted for the sledgehammer. Besides, the extra work efforts kept him warm.
They ate lunch in their respective trucks, but Jay was looking forward to a warm pan of meatloaf that night. Sunset came fast enough. The afternoon temperatures rose to a balmy -12, so basically rather than freezing to death in 3 minutes, an abandoned guy might freeze to death in 3.5 minutes. But the sledgehammer and grain sacks did their work. He was rather warm and pulled the hood of his mask up over his face when dad approached.
"I'm all packed up. About done?"
He glanced at the sledgehammer leaning against Jay's leg. He looked weary.
Jay nodded, "yeah. This is the last water trough. I'll get it broke up and get out of here. I'm starving."
His dad smirked, "Me too, son. Let me get another hammer and help."
Jay shook his head. "Don't worry about it. This'll only take a minutes. Go ahead and go. I'll be right behind you."
His dad frowned, glanced at the trough, and shrugged. "Alright. See you ... at home."
He hesitated over that last bit, but Jay didn't think much of it. Soon enough, dad climbed into his truck, and it rumbled away. Jay took a deep breath. Fog frosted in front of his face and ice crystals poked the inside of his nose, but the cold swirled painfully good inside his chest. He changed songs on his wallet to a good old Five Finger track, rolled the mask back over his face, and hefted the sledge hammer. The force of it slammed down with satisfying smack on the ice. It splintered into a thousand cracks at his feet. Then he hefted it up for another swing. Again and again. He was almost disappointed when the last of the ice swirled around the liberated water.
Taking a deep breath, he dropped the hammer into the back of the truck and climbed in himself. He liberated his own face of all the layers and scanned the horizon. He hadn't thought about El Tiburon in hours. The sky was dim. If it weren't for the white blanket of snow glittering flecks of light, it would be even darker. Now that he was sitting, he felt the full weight of fatigue settle into his bones. It was wonderful. Almost too tired to even think. The cattle were huddled together except for the bunch drinking up their water.
His stomach rumbled and he remembered the meatloaf waiting at home. He dug out his wallet, battery was running low having used it all day, but was plenty to jam along with some music for the drive home. He thrust the key in the ignition, turned it, and his heart sank.
The truck wouldn't start.
"You gotta be kidding me."
Only darkness shows you the light.