Renewal by Jf Perkins

from starving.”
     
    “I know you said eleven years…” Terry answered.
     
    “Well, we’ve actually lived here for that long, but we’ve been in the area since the Breakdown. We were working on parts of it long before that. We found ways to survive early on, but eventually we wanted something that felt like a real place, a way to make contact with others. We were so tired of starting every conversation with gunshots, and ending most of them with a shovel in the woods.”
     
    “Yeah. When I was ten we had a war with Tullahoma over corn. It was crazy. They had us kids collecting rocks to throw, since only about 100 people had any guns left.”
     
    “Tullahoma is pretty much gone now. It was always lousy for farming. There were a couple of rich maniacs over there who got the idea that they should become the lords of the manner, since it was working for them before the Breakdown. They blew up Normandy Dam to try to flood Shelbyville and conquer the remains. They managed the flood, but Shelbyville had good, well-fed farmers all around, not to mention all those horses. The Tullahoma group was pretty well eaten up before they made it halfway. Who would have thought cavalry would make the difference in the 21 st century?”
     
    Bill set his cup down with a solid thump. “Well… I’ve been talking about a tour for too long. How about we go have a look?
     
    Terry took a last long swig from his own cup and carefully placed it on the table. It was an antique, and his family only had a few made from actual ceramic. Most of the dishes at home were made from baked clay, with no real finish. This particular mug had “Breast Cancer Walk-a-thon 2009” written in pink, swoopy letters on it.
     
    Bill got to his feet, set the mugs on the counter, and headed out the door. Outside, it was still cool, with that steamy mist that promised to burn off into another hot day in the South. Terry followed Bill down the steps and turned to check on his bike. It was gone!
     
    “Don’t worry. We just put it in the garage for safe keeping.” Bill watched him closely. At the look of open suspicion on Terry’s face, he added, “We can go check on it if it’ll make you feel better.”
     
    Terry thought about it, and said, “No, that’s ok. I believe you.” He did think that he was being controlled just a little more than was comfortable, but he was in it now. It would either work out, or it wouldn’t.
     
    Bill opened the big gate, and waited for Terry to step through before he closed it again. Bill raised his right hand for a few seconds, and then took it down and started walking. Terry looked around for whoever Bill was signaling, but saw no one.
     
    “This is a just a pasture field. Its main purpose is to create a buffer between our working land and the guard houses, but a few times a year, we let in the livestock to graze here. The land on both sides, we let grow into scrub. It’s hard to see through, much less cross with any kind of force, but if someone tried it, they would find it’s full of little surprises.”
     
    “Surprises?” Terry asked.
     
    “I could tell you, but then it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” Bill answered with an evil grin.
     
    They came to a place where the land began to drop off, and in a few more steps, Terry could see the flat expanse of land below. What he saw almost made him drop to his knees. Every slope above the shelf was scattered with cattle, and goats, and sheep, and even some horses. The fences were built of split rails and recovered barb wire, and in every case, extended only far enough up the slope to guarantee that they couldn’t be seen from a distance. The flat land below was a ring of gardens and small patches of crop field, punctuated by barns and sheds, and inside the ‘crop circle’ was a small, clean, fully functional town. He could see houses, and stores, and even a small church from here. Beyond the town, crop fields extended until the land dropped again,