AFTER THE DUST SETTLED (Countdown to Armageddon Book 2) (13 page)

     After they’d thrown about a dozen ears into a pile next to the shucking machine, Tom picked up an ear and placed it inside a three inch diameter hole on top of the machine.

     “Always put the pointy side down. Otherwise it’ll get gummed up in there, and we’ll have to take the cover off to fish it back out again. Once the cob is in the machine, turn the big wheel one full revolution, counter clockwise. Don’t do it clockwise, it’ll shoot the ear back out of the top and then you’ll have to go chase it. Remember, one time around, counterclockwise.”

     He demonstrated, and as if by magic, the corn cob came out of a slot in the front of the machine and shot through the air, landing about five feet away. All the kernels of corn had been stripped off. They came out the side of the machine, and landed in a little pile on the open floor between the machines.

     Scott said, “Well I’ll be damned. I didn’t expect that to happen.”

     Zachary was more succinct. He smiled and said, “Cool!”

     “Okay,” Tom went on. You’ll have to stop periodically, to clear out your piles. Once the pile of cobs starts to get in the way, just shove them outside. We’ll let ‘em dry in the sun and then we’ll put ‘em in the feed barn. The pigs love ‘em. They’re like ice cream to pigs. So we’ll feed ‘em to the pigs a few at a time, and that’ll help stretch your pig feed a bit. Which reminds me of something, Scott. You’ve got too many pigs and cows. Talk to me later about that, okay?

     “Anyway, your corn pile will get pretty high, too. When it does, just stop and use one of those garden rakes. Rake it all over to the middle of the floor.”

     Linda turned up her nose. “Shouldn’t we mop the floor first, or at least sweep it to get the dust off of it?”

     Tom couldn’t help but chuckle.

     “You’ve never lived on a farm, have you, dear?”

     “Well, no.”

     “There’s nothing clean or dainty about feeding pigs or helping a cow deliver her
backwards calf. Nothing neat about butchering a bull or making sausage with leftover parts and pieces and such. And there’s nothing dainty about processing corn. It’s gonna be laying here on the floor for days while we dry it out. It’s gonna get stepped on, visited by flies and spiders, and maybe even a caterpillar or two. But don’t worry. Once it’s dried and packed away it’ll be safe to eat. It’ll just have to be rinsed real good before you put it in a pot to boil.”

     Then Tom did something no one expected. He walked over to Linda and kissed her.

     “Blessed be the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

     She turned red, and said, “Thank you. I guess.”

     “Anyway, just rake the corn kernels into a big pile here in the center of the room. By the time we’re done, it’ll be huge. It’ll take up most of the floor space.”

     He looked at Sara and said, “And it’ll be just as high as your pretty little head, little lady.”

     With that, he turned on his heels and headed toward the door, gathering Zachary along the way.

     “Come on, little man. Let’s go back and get some more cobs so we can stay ahead of these folks.”

     Over his shoulder he shouted, “Y’all can compete with each other to see whose pile is biggest. That’ll make it more fun. And be sure you switch off between the huskers and the shuckers. That’ll keep it from getting too boring. And don’t goof off, now, or we’ll bury you all under a big pile of ears.”

     He chuckled and looked at Zach.

    He lowered his voice and said in a conspiratorial tone, “By the end of the day every one of these city slickers will be dragging like a twenty year old dog and sayin’ their arms are gonna fall off. You watch.”

     They drove back to the corn field and harvested the second row of corn in the same manner
as the first, with one key exception.

     “Okay, little man, you’re gonna think I’ve gone pure crazy. But you can’t drive alongside the corn field like you did last time, because I won’t be able to throw the cob in your Gator like I did last time. The first row of corn that we already plucked would be in the way. Any idea how we’re gonna deal with that little problem?”

     Zachary shook his head no.

     “I want you to aim your vehicle for dead center on that row of corn we already plucked clean. Just drive right over that first plant. Pretend it’s your brother and you’re mad at him. Just flatten that son of a gun. Then run over the next one and the one after that and the one after that, all the way down the row. And I’ll be walking beside you, plucking the next row and tossing the cobs in the back of your green machine.”

     “But won’t that kill the plants?”

     “We’re done with ‘em, son. Once we make ‘em naked they’re nothing but cattle feed. We’re gonna kill ‘em anyway when we cut ‘em down and feed ‘em to the cows.”

     “I never knew farming was gonna be this much fun.”

     Tom smiled. If he
only knew…

-23
-

     By the end of the third day, every living soul in the compound was tired, stiff and sore. Even when Joyce joined the group, and Tom and Zachary took their turns at the shucking machines, it was more backbreaking grunt work than anyone could imagine. Other than Tom. He knew exactly what they were in for.

     Tom was happy to see that the yield was greater than expected. So much so that they had to take a good size portion of the corn and rake it onto a large plastic tarp, and set it out in the sun.

     “Sure wish we had a weatherman to tell us it wasn’t going to rain,” Scott observed.

     Tom sniffed the air.

     “Nope. No chance of moisture for at least two days. We’re okay.”

     Scott didn’t ask any questions. He wasn’t wise to many of Tom’s ways, not coming from a farming and ranching background himself. But he was learning to trust this man immensely. So he took it on faith that there would be no rain for the next two days.

     “Keep the dogs away from it. They’ll go romping through it and think it’s something to play in. They’ll spread it all over the yard. Especially those puppies.”

     Both piles of corn were raked into more or less flat sheets, a few inches thick, so that as much of it as possible was exposed to the open air. Every two hours someone in bare socks walked upon it and raked it over again, to rotate the wet kernels on the bottom up to the top.

     “When you’re done, look at the bottom of your socks,” Tom advised. “That’s how you’ll tell your progress. The first few turns, the bottom of your socks will be soaked. When you finish a turn and your socks are still dry, that’s a sign we’re getting close.”

     Close to the end of the fifth day, Tom and Zachary were back at the barn, and dumping the Gator onto a high pile of cobs. Scott was there to help tilt the bed.

     Tom looked at Zachary and said, “You were a great helper, little man, and you did a super job. I want you to be proud of yourself. This will be our last load.”

     “But Tom, there’s two more rows of corn we haven’t plucked yet.”

     “Those don’t get plucked, son. We’ll let those dry on the stalk. Once the husks turn brown and they sag toward the earth, we’ll know they’re dry. And then we can just pull them off and toss them into a pile, where they’ll sit for a couple of months. Those will be our seeds for the next harvest.”

     Scott, eager to learn, asked, “Why not process it with the rest of the batch?”

     “Well, two reasons, actually. The machines cut off the pointy tip of the kernels. They won’t grow plants next time unless they’re intact. In order to remove them intact, they have to dry on the cob. And the second reason is, you can’t run dry cobs through the machines. It’ll dull the blades faster than you’d believe. The cobs still have to be just a little bit soft, have just a little bit of moisture in them, to keep from dulling the blades.

     “And besides, this way we’ll finish a day or too sooner. And that’s important because everybody is exhausted and needs a break. There’s plenty of time to pull the dry cobs off and process them for seed later on.”

     “How will we process them when we get around to it?”

     Tom chuckled.

     “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

     “Uh, oh. Is it that bad?”

     “We’re gonna do it by hand. When the cob is dry you can just twist it and it’ll loosen the kernels. Then you just kind of rub them off the cob into a pile. It doesn’t sound so bad, but it takes strong arms and a tight grip to loosen those suckers. The first few will be easy. But after you go through four, five hundred cobs, your forearms will be on fire and feel like they’re ready to fall off. And when you’re eating supper that night it’ll be hard to hold a fork, because your arms will be tremblin’ so bad.

     “And you’ll curse the day you ever decided to plant corn to begin with.”

     “Hell, I’m already regretting it.”

     Tom laughed and slapped him on the back.

     “Hey, this is easy. Just wait until next year when you plant wheat. Now that’s a
real
pain in the ass.

     “And that reminds me, Scott. Did you know the type of wheat you bought is ready to harvest in seventy days?”

     “No, I didn’t. To be honest, I just bought that kind because the internet site had a map, and said that kind would grow best in this area. Why, is that important?”

     “Well, you’ve been saying you wished there was something you could do to help your friend John down there in
San Antonio. I know they’re short on food down there. I just wanted to point out that if you’ve a mind to, you’ve got time to grow a wheat crop and get it harvested before cold weather sets in. You could save part of it to replace the seeds you use, and we could haul the rest down to San Antonio to help John and his people get through the winter.”

     “Seriously? Let’s do it.”

     “Hold off, now. I have to tell you, we have to finish this job first. A few more days of this and we’re all gonna be so stiff and sore we’re gonna be crying. And when we’re done, we’re all gonna want to lay in bed and rest for a week.

     “But if we’re gonna plant a wheat crop, we won’t have that luxury. We’ll need to get those seeds in the ground soon. And the process is gonna be the same as when you planted the corn by hand. Days of crawling in the dirt on your hands and knees, poking holes in the ground and dropping seeds inside. It’s back breaking work, as you well know.”

     The others were close enough to hear the conversation.

     Joyce spoke up and said, “I’m in.”

     Linda said, “Me too, if it’ll help those poor people survive the winter.”

     Sara said, “Count us in. Me and Jordan.”

     Scott chuckled. He looked at Linda and Joyce. They were smiling too.

    
Jordan wasn’t even there. He was pulling his shift on the security desk. But Sara was confident enough in their relationship that she felt it okay to volunteer him for a very painful task he didn’t even know about.

     Tom whispered to Scott, “Is Jordan henpecked
already
?”

     Once all the corn was shucked, it took another
five days to get it all dried out. Tom showed Scott and the boys how to dismantle the shucking machines and clean out all the corn ooze that had collected on the cutting blades and beneath the machine. Then they sharpened the blades, put the machines back together, wrapped them with heavy plastic and shoved them to the corner of the barn.

     Scott couldn’t help himself. He gave them a proper sendoff that they all felt, but that only he found the words for. “Good riddance, you sons of bitches. I’m glad we don’t have to look at you again for three more years.”

 
-24-

     Once the dry corn was shoveled into burlap bags and stacked in the feed barn, attention focused on the wheat project.

     Tom graced them with two full days off while he cut off the first ten rows of corn. He cut each stalk off at its base and threw them into huge piles next to the field.

     Later, he’d explained, they’d shred it and harvest it into hay bales, at the same time they’d mow and bale the high grass surrounding the field. He said that between the grass and the corn stalks, they’d get a couple of hundred bales of hay to help the horses and cattle get through the winter.