Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
As we drew closer, the dogs casually walking the grounds came trotting forward toward the gates, barking, alerting anyone who may not have been paying attention. Though everyone had already clocked us a while ago.
Men and women milled around, automatic rifles strapped to their chests, eyes on the roads, the woods, the skies. I was almost about to comment on how that level of hyper-vigilance must be exhausting. Until I remembered how much I, myself, operated from a place of hyper-vigilance.
“Sully has a meeting with Chris,” Valen told the guard at the station.
“And that thing has ballistic glass,” Dezi explained, nodding his chin toward the box the guard sat in that reminded me a lot of those little boxes cashiers stood in at outdoor garden centers.
“I think he’s trying to make you feel secure,” Sully said, reaching to give my hand a squeeze.
“I’m pretty sure there’s nowhere safer in the whole state,” I declared as the gates slid open and the car rolled through.
We barely got a chance to get out of the car before a man—tall, long-legged, handsome, with dark brown hair and warm brown eyes—came striding toward us with a certain air of authority.
“Sully,” he greeted, offering his hand to Sully. “Fischer,” he introduced himself.
“Fisch, this is Bonnie,” he introduced me. “And Nave, Dezi, and Valen.”
“Oh, hello,” I cooed as a dog ventured closer, sensing there was no danger. “Is he friendly?” I asked, looking at Fischer.
“She is,” Fischer confirmed. “And a real ham,” he added as the pittie whacked her big, square head against my leg, begging for attention.
“Oh, Zima is going to hate me for this,” I told her as I dropped down to rub her head with both my hands. “But it’s worth it, right?” I asked as her leg tapped hard against the ground.
“I’m gonna go find my woman,” Valen said, giving us all a wave as he headed away.
“Think they are serving lunch yet?” Dezi asked, jogging to catch up with Valen.
“I’ve got no one to see,” Nave said. “Mind if I check out the grounds? I haven’t been here since I was a kid. Wanna see what’s different.”
“The chickens,” Fischer said. “Got a shitload of chickens now. And a goose to protect them. But he mostly just chases people around and bites them on the ass.”
A laugh escaped me at that. “The dogs don’t bother them?” I asked.
“Some of the dogs are better than others when it comes to the chickens. Hence the chicken tunnels,” he said, gesturing toward the fence. I looked, noticing something I’d missed earlier. Along the entire fence was a small tunnel of heavy-duty curved wire, creating a safe little area for the chickens to walk around eating bugs and pecking at greens, without being bothered by the dogs. “Leads all the way back to a giant covered run over that way,” he said, pointing toward a back corner of the yard.
“Mind if I show her?” Sully asked, nodding his head toward me.
“No. Actually, Chris got hung up on a last-minute emergency call. That’s why you got me instead of her. I can show you guys around until she’s ready for you.”
“Wanna go see the chickens?”
“Depends,” I said, my stomach tensing.
“On what?” Fischer asked, brows pinching.
“Do you guys… process them?” I asked.
“Process? As in butcher?” Fischer asked. “Fuck no. Christ, fucking Astrid would skin me and serve me for dinner before she’d let us eat one of her birds,” Fischer said with a big smile, all white teeth. “No, they’re just for eggs. And pest control. You a vegetarian?” he asked.
“No. But… I had neighbors when I was a kid. And they got all these adorable chicks one spring. I used to sneak over a bunch of times a day to play with them and love on them. And then one day, I went over and they were…” I trailed off, shaking my head, trying to get rid of the memory.
Sully’s hand went to my back, rubbing, as Fischer’s gaze went soft. “No worries. You can fall in love with these ones as much as you want. They will live here until they are geriatric old ladies who are just freeloading because they don’t lay eggs anymore.”
With that, we started off toward the chicken coop. Though, ‘coop’ was too ungenerous of a word for it. The place was practically a chicken spa. They had swings, perches, piles of leaves to dig in, metal balls full of fresh veggies, a small waterfall, and even toys. I didn’t even know chickens liked toys. But even as we watched, one of the hens walked up to a xylophone and pecked at it with her beak, making a little chicken song.
“Got somewhere I can bunk up in here?” Nave asked, standing in the middle of the covered run with a giant black chicken tucked under his arm.