Read Online A Very Good Man by P. S. Power - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: P. S. Power
Tags: Horror
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about sports or something. Not that they had sports. Unless killing the already dead counted. If so Jake was a pro-athlete now. That being kind of how he made his living.
Cool.
“We've got about two hours before dinner, we can split firewood here, and cut the logs too, but we need to set up a saw pit. I'd like to try it now, so we can figure out what we need to change if it doesn't work.” Burt looked at Jake first, but then spoke mainly to Carley, which made the woman look a little sour.
She sounded fine though, so maybe it was the glance to Jake first that did it.
“Alright, but all of us are sore. We aren't used to this kind of work. Well, I'm not. Maybe we should get volunteers to help with the digging?”
Nate had walked up behind her and stood waiting. He looked tired and hot, they all probably did. Jake just went and got a shovel and some old gloves from the work shed, then pulled four more, the pointed kind for digging. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed a few extra pairs of hand protection for the others. Blisters were a bitch and he already had a few started himself, right where his thumbs met his hand for some reason. Hopefully digging would at least put the stress in a different place.
The ground was good farm earth, even in back of the house, which meant softer than they might have had. The soil was heavy and dark, moist still, once they got about three feet down. The pit didn't have to be deep, just about four feet, but they needed a raised support for the logs. That took some time to work out. Then all they had to do was send a person into the ditch to work the bottom of the saw while another worked in time with them on the top.
It turned out to be way harder than it sounded.
The coordination between the two people made the already hard physical labor even more difficult, the only combination that had any luck at all turned out to be him down in the pit and Carl on the top. Part of that was the large muscles and beefy strength the black man had, but a lot of it just came down to timing. They got it together enough to cut off one round before it started getting too dark for safety. Saw dust in his hair and mouth, riding down his shirt at the back and covered with sweat, Jake tried to grin. He probably looked a sight. To make it all even better, his hands ached all over. Not just the blisters, a few of which has ruptured leaving a sticky white and pink stain in the gloves. Inside his hands, between the bones, it hurt. They felt swollen and slow.
God help him if an attack came that night. He made sure he could pull a trigger, working his fingers constantly, but this would really cut his reaction time. So would the sore muscles that were already developing. His arms and back mainly. Laughing a little he tried to climb out of the pit, and slipped. Three times.
Carley, taking her new position as a leader seriously, came and helped him out. That was nearly a first here. A few times people had helped him by mistake or because they were helping everyone else, and Tipper had bailed him out a few times, but he'd done the same for her too, and first, so it was pretty even. This time Carley just helped him. OK, she nearly fell in and they ended up awkwardly falling all over each other when he popped out finally, being pulled backwards, but as his hands barely closed or opened at the time, it did the trick. Behind them there came laughter. Dark and a little too loud.
Holsom pointed and tried to pretend his words were sly, “can't even wait for lights out? You two should get a room. Don't ask her for anal though, she'll never forgive you, as if her ass is too good to be touched. No one else here is that cold.”
Carley spun, ready to start shouting at the idiot, so Jake reached out and touched her arm gently and smiled.
“Remember not to yell. You have a gun now. More to the point, Holsom doesn't.” He gestured with his right hand, using the whole of the nearly frozen mass to
Cool.
“We've got about two hours before dinner, we can split firewood here, and cut the logs too, but we need to set up a saw pit. I'd like to try it now, so we can figure out what we need to change if it doesn't work.” Burt looked at Jake first, but then spoke mainly to Carley, which made the woman look a little sour.
She sounded fine though, so maybe it was the glance to Jake first that did it.
“Alright, but all of us are sore. We aren't used to this kind of work. Well, I'm not. Maybe we should get volunteers to help with the digging?”
Nate had walked up behind her and stood waiting. He looked tired and hot, they all probably did. Jake just went and got a shovel and some old gloves from the work shed, then pulled four more, the pointed kind for digging. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed a few extra pairs of hand protection for the others. Blisters were a bitch and he already had a few started himself, right where his thumbs met his hand for some reason. Hopefully digging would at least put the stress in a different place.
The ground was good farm earth, even in back of the house, which meant softer than they might have had. The soil was heavy and dark, moist still, once they got about three feet down. The pit didn't have to be deep, just about four feet, but they needed a raised support for the logs. That took some time to work out. Then all they had to do was send a person into the ditch to work the bottom of the saw while another worked in time with them on the top.
It turned out to be way harder than it sounded.
The coordination between the two people made the already hard physical labor even more difficult, the only combination that had any luck at all turned out to be him down in the pit and Carl on the top. Part of that was the large muscles and beefy strength the black man had, but a lot of it just came down to timing. They got it together enough to cut off one round before it started getting too dark for safety. Saw dust in his hair and mouth, riding down his shirt at the back and covered with sweat, Jake tried to grin. He probably looked a sight. To make it all even better, his hands ached all over. Not just the blisters, a few of which has ruptured leaving a sticky white and pink stain in the gloves. Inside his hands, between the bones, it hurt. They felt swollen and slow.
God help him if an attack came that night. He made sure he could pull a trigger, working his fingers constantly, but this would really cut his reaction time. So would the sore muscles that were already developing. His arms and back mainly. Laughing a little he tried to climb out of the pit, and slipped. Three times.
Carley, taking her new position as a leader seriously, came and helped him out. That was nearly a first here. A few times people had helped him by mistake or because they were helping everyone else, and Tipper had bailed him out a few times, but he'd done the same for her too, and first, so it was pretty even. This time Carley just helped him. OK, she nearly fell in and they ended up awkwardly falling all over each other when he popped out finally, being pulled backwards, but as his hands barely closed or opened at the time, it did the trick. Behind them there came laughter. Dark and a little too loud.
Holsom pointed and tried to pretend his words were sly, “can't even wait for lights out? You two should get a room. Don't ask her for anal though, she'll never forgive you, as if her ass is too good to be touched. No one else here is that cold.”
Carley spun, ready to start shouting at the idiot, so Jake reached out and touched her arm gently and smiled.
“Remember not to yell. You have a gun now. More to the point, Holsom doesn't.” He gestured with his right hand, using the whole of the nearly frozen mass to
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