Beneath Dark Skies (Rolling Hills Ranch #1)

32. Kenji

THIRTY-TWO

KENJI

WHISKEY & SWEAT

Day 423

As the sun slowly starts to make its way to the horizon, Jay and I both collapse onto the grass right outside the Abel barn, our bodies exhausted and drenched in sweat. We spent the better part of the day building a new livestock pen out in one of the open fields and seemed to come to an unspoken agreement that we wanted to get it done in one day.

We only took a short break earlier in the afternoon when Nora stopped by with some lemonade and sandwiches, admonishing us for not resting and pacing ourselves under the sun. After reassuring her that we wouldn’t push it too hard and overexert ourselves, we devoured our lunch in minutes and immediately got back to work.

“Jesus,” I manage to exhale between ragged breaths, still trying to settle my breathing. “I’m completely spent. I don’t think I can move.”

Jay lets out a tired chuckle beside me. “Feelin’ the same way, man. But damn, we did good today. Thank fuck we’re finally done with it.” He raises his arm and offers his fist to me, and I bump it with my own. I lay my head back down in the soft grass, my arm dropping limply to my side as my eyes fall closed. I just need a short little rest before I try to move my body again.

We lay there for only a few minutes when a shadow crosses over my eyelids, blocking out the light. I peer my eyes open, finding Mr. Hill looking down on me. I give a feeble wave, and his mouth erupts into a grin, a laugh escaping him.

“You boys look like you completely exhausted yourselves today,” a voice says from my side, and I slowly turn my head to find Mr. Abel peering down at Jay, just like Mr. Hill is with me.

“No shit, Gramps,” Jay says with a groan, his eyes still closed. “We built that pen in one goddamn day. Cut us some slack.”

Mr. Abel and Mr. Hill break out into laughter, shaking their heads as they share a look. “Well, you might change your tune when you find out that Henry and I came here bearing a gift for the two of you for all your hard work lately and especially today.”

One of Jay’s eyes pops open, making him look like some creepy horror movie doll. God, Adrian’s train of thinking is rubbing off on me if I’m comparing everything to horror movies.

“What’s the gift?” Jay asks.

Mr. Abel lifts up a bottle of whiskey, and two glasses, while Mr. Hill holds up two more. “A drink and some good company.”

“Deal,” Jay says before clumsily getting to his feet. He extends his hand toward me, helping pull me up, and the four of us walk over to the Abel porch to sit and drink. We settle onto the worn wooden slats of the porch stairs, the cool early evening air a welcome contrast to the day’s heat. For hours, we drink and laugh. Jay and I have to grasp onto one another a few times as we listen to the two older men regale us with stories from their youth.

“Do you remember the time we got drunk and took care of the scarecrows, John?” Mr. Hill asks, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Not like it’s an easy one to forget, Henry,” Mr. Abel replies, causing Jay and I to exchange a glance, wondering where the hell this is going and willing them to continue explaining .

Mr. Hill turns to the two of us as he recounts the memory. “We were nineteen and drunk, just like we are now. As we were wandering out in the fields, we passed by one of the scarecrows that was up, and John here got offended at the way the scarecrow was looking at him.

“He kept going on, and on about how he didn’t like the funny look the thing was giving him and how we needed to teach it a lesson.” He laughs as though he’s vividly picturing that night.

“Good grief, it was awful,” Mr. Abel says, looking over at us, his eyes a bit red from laughter and perhaps a little from the whiskey. “Goddamn scarecrow, and there I was, offended by its face. Anyway, I did what I thought I had to do in my drunken stupor… I ripped the scarecrow right off its post and took it with me.”

Mr. Hill snorts out a loud laugh that brings tears to his eyes. As he wipes them away between fits of laughter, he finds his words. “He then proceeded to drag me with him, having me help him steal every single scarecrow from all the farms around us,” he says, shaking his head.

Mr. Abel finishes the story, “Imagine our horror when we woke up the next morning to find my room filled to the brim with stolen scarecrows.”

“And we had to explain to our folks what we did,” Mr. Hill recounts. “They weren’t mad as much as they were shocked by our stupidity.”

Jay and I are dying of laughter, and the stories continue on. Eventually, we quiet down a bit, and we enjoy each other’s presence in a comfortable silence. The sun has long since set, and we’re all a bit drunk, or at least I know I am. And I can only use my inebriated state as the reason for the words that end up popping out of my mouth.

“I got a question,” I start, my words punctuated by a hiccup. “How did Farron end up the leader of this place? Everyone clearly respects her, and I remember her calling all the shots as early as the day we first arrived. You all seem to really rely on her. But it seems like she’s more introverted, someone who likes to be on her own…” I trail off.

Jay is the one who speaks up first. “I don’t think we ever intended to make her the leader. Not with how young she is and what she had to deal with when she made it back here more than a month after the outbreak. I don’t know what she went through on her way up here, what sort of horrors she saw and endured. All anyone knows is that it took her forty-five days to make a trip that should have taken less than two weeks, easily,” he says, his tone turning somber, his eyes gazing at a point in the distance.

“She came back different. Hardened. She isolated herself for a while, and the only time any of us would see her or speak to her was when she was keeping busy, fixing things around the community, and coming up with ideas for our safety. The bells on the perimeter line were her idea, you know? And she’s the one who implemented the regular perimeter checks. She helped repair our fences and build more, she helped with our supply runs and tracks our inventory, and she’s even the reason we don’t have to worry about our technology for the moment,” Jay continues, his head tilting as he seems to think about something.

“Technology?” I ask, seemingly unable to form a more coherent question past that one word.

“That’s where that fella, Ray, comes in,” Mr. Hill responds to me. “He made his way over to us along with some of the other survivors from town. Jasper and Peter helped carry him here, sort of the way you boys did with Theo. He had stepped in next to Eric to protect Daisy from some zombies, and he ended up badly hurt. Farron helped stitch him up and get him going again.”

“She did more than just that,” Mr. Abel chimes in. “She forced that man to push through and not give up when he felt like it, and she was the one who encouraged him and went searching with him to find his daughter. He never would have if it weren’t for her.”

“Because of Farron, Ray stays in contact with us,” Jay explains, seeming to understand that I’m still a little lost in understanding how this story is relevant to what we were initially talking about. “He was an electrical engineer for years, so he’s the one that fixes stuff for us when we have issues with our grid system or just shares with us new things he comes up with. In return, Rolling Hills trades food and other supplies with them when they need it.”

“If it weren’t for Farron, you boys probably never would have made your way over here,” Mr. Hill tells me. “You would have never met Ray and never known about this place.”

I shake my head as his words settle within me, realizing just how much everything seems to go back to the Princess, even in ways I could have never imagined.

“I don’t think that girl will ever realize just how much she’s done for everyone here, just how grateful we all are for her. I know she feels responsible for everything that goes on here, but I’m not sure she even realizes that we see her as the leader, that we all look to her for her opinions and advice.” Mr. Abel says as he slaps his arm down on Mr. Hill’s shoulder, jostling him a bit in what’s clearly meant to be a comforting gesture.

“Farron is a stronger woman than she should have ever had to be,” Mr. Hill says, before turning his head and pointedly looking at me. “She deserves to be taken care of eventually, to have someone she can fall back on when everyone and everything else falls back on her.”

I avert my eyes, avoiding his penetrating gaze as my thoughts turn thoughtful, thinking about Farron, a woman in her late twenties, being responsible for an entire community and dozens of people. I think about how much pressure she must be under and how difficult it must be to handle your own needs on top of everyone else's. I feel for her. Even if I’d never want to admit it to Theo and Adrian, I feel responsible for them, like I have to protect them above all else and always put them before myself. I can’t fathom what that feels like when it’s multiplied the way it is in her case.

Maybe the princess isn’t such a princess after all.

Lost in my thoughts, I almost miss Mr. Hill continuing. “She’s saved us, you know? In more ways than just physically. She brought hope back to this place, showed us that we could survive, that we could build something again. And she did it all without asking for anything in return. She did it even when she was struggling and uncertain.”

“Yeah,” I say quietly, feeling the intensity of his words. “She’s something else, alright.”