Treasure

She had been watching the farm for several days. One of many in the area, this one seemed still untouched. The nearest government was days away, and no other people nearby. The other farms were part of the old agri-businesses of the teens and twenties, but this one was an old family farm. There were treasures to be found here.

Her name was Kayla, and she was thirteen years old. The elders of her old clan spoke of the times from before she was born, when there was gas to power the rusted, desiccated hulks that littered the roads. She had been to some of the big electric cities, with lights as far as the eye could see, but here with the fallen electric lines, and only corpses to see, there were none of those miracles. Here the biggest miracle, was a small windmill spinning languorously in the gentle wind. Not one of those monstrous, burned-out contraptions as big as old-time buildings, but a small handmade wooden mill spinning to some purpose near the fields. Evidence that someone had been working showed in the small patch of green fields near the house.

She whistled for her dogs, who sat where they were ordered earlier, watching for any trouble. The wary skittish look in her eyes, told of troubles she had not foreseen in the past, and the mental scars she bore as a result. Eight dogs came to her call, silent and focused, obedient to their training. She smiled and touched each on their heads, with a small gesture and different whistles, she posted individual dogs like sentries as she moved to the house.

The house had almost a handmade feel to it. While built of the old-time pieces and parts, there were wood accents carved by hand, and some of the paint faded, peeling though it was, showed the love and care that went into fixing the place to hominess. Definitely not one of the agri-businesses, this was someone’s home for certain. As she walked up the rickety stairs to the front porch, she saw just one set of boot prints in the dust. Large prints, probably belonging to a large man, for a moment she shrank, and a tell-tale of fear shone in her eyes. The growls of her faithful dogs reminded her that she had friends now and need not fear one man by himself any longer. Anyway, the footprints were themselves gathering dust, sign that it had been days ago that they were made. She moved to the front door, with glass still intact, one of many treasures she’d find here today, intact glass was worth a fortune.

She found the door locked, and not wanting to damage the glass, she decided to check the back of the house first. Again, posing one of the dogs to guard the front, she retrieved her wagon, much like a wheel-barrow with four large wheels, it held her lunch and several bags, she would need them all to gather all the treasures this pristine home sheltered. Moving carefully around the side of the house, she gasped with wonder, as she spied the bounty hidden behind the house. Green, nearly a hundred feet wide, with rows of flowering plants, and fruit in several colors. This would feed her for years, if she could take it with her, or trading in one of the trade towns scattered along the highways, she could earn nearly anything she might want. She could see now, that the windmill was pulling water from the ground in a constant dribble and releasing it into troughs that fed the garden and the fields she had noticed before. A practical irrigation system, unlike anything she had seen before, but she had eyes only for fresh berries, vegetables, and leafy greens, treasure beyond measure.

She filled several bags with fruits and vegetables, and some of the hand tools neatly laid nearby. As she moved to the back of the garden she found several crosses, obviously grave markers from those who came before. She could not read, so the names on the markers meant nothing to her. She nodded her head to them respectfully, and thanked them for the bounty. It was important to appease any ghosts when scavenging from their houses, and anyway a little respect never hurt anyone. Enough food for several weeks once she preserved some, and these old farms always had means to preserve food. Tonight, though she would eat fresh food, something she seldom managed.

The back door had only small pieces of glass, and so she was not afraid to damage the door getting in. Pulling out a big hunk of metal, called a Halligan tool, she pried and levered the door open. After expertly prying the glass from the doors, she made her way into the house. She marveled at the neatness of the unplundered house, as she picked up more loot than she could reasonably carry. Her plan was to hide some of the loot, and make a second, or even third trip to gather it all. While the bounty of the garden and the small field were nearly priceless, the food would only last for a short time. To her, the great prize was the stock of canning jars, some already filled with food, these she would take with her on the first trip, one of the glass jars with an unused pressure seal was wealth itself. Passing up the broken plates and cups, and most other kitchen ware, only the fine, black, cast-iron skillet, still shining with seasoning made it to her wagon.

Finally ascending to the upper floor, she found the former owner, and she had to calm her dog Justin, as his hackles rose upon seeing the body. Vermin had not been at it yet, and even flies were minimized, due to the general dryness of the air. While she did not much care for men, she still was raised to respect the dead. She covered his body with a hand made quilt from the bed nearby. Corpses aside, the room was tidy and neat. She started to gather more from the rooms upstairs, more blankets and quilts that she might want in a few months, picture books from the children’s rooms, and clothing that fit her well, probably from those buried outside, she thanked them again as she gathered her loot. In the room with the dead man, she found little of use, the gun used for suicide had several bullets still in it, and those were of course quite valuable. On a table were several pretty objects, hair combs like her mother used to wear, ribbons that used to tie up hers when she was a baby, and the most beautiful, shiny, gold necklace. While it all seemed useless right now, she might be able to sell it later, and it weighed very little, not hard to justify some beauty as well.

She gathered enough loot for at least three trips. She separated it into piles for later transport. One pile was bulky things that would keep, blankets, heavy clothing, heavy tools and the like. The second pile consisted of higher value things that would not spoil, like canned goods and such, and the last pile, all the fresh food from the garden, the firearms, because she also found a varmint rifle with a whole box of shells, her dogs would eat well, and the pretties found upstairs. The first pile, she hid under a tarp a short distance from the house, thinking that another scavenger might miss it, the second pile she stuffed into an old burnt-out wreck several minutes away, figuring that no one would search it for anything of value, and the final pile, she loaded into her wagon to take home. She had stashed a bicycle nearby, and once hooked up to the wagon, it made pulling the load much easier. While the noon sun was quite overbearing, she had drunk her fill of water, and even grabbed some bottles of the stuff in case she might become thirsty. It never paid to ignore fresh water, as hard as it was to come by lately. Her hide was a few hours away, and while she was quite skinny, her legs were used to the constant labor of bicycling, wiry might be a better term. Accompanied by her faithful dogs, the last part of her trip was secluded and hidden. She stopped to be sure no one was following her, and that none were hiding around her house. The last bit of the trip was around several derelict cars, behind some dried-up old trees, and down in a drainage culvert. Originally there had been tools and things stored for working on or repairing the roads, like some sort of cache, but these were old long before she was born, and likely no one remembered that they were here.

During the trip home she took several breaks to kill rabbits and squirrels, all looking even skinnier than her, life was hard for everyone, it seems, but her dogs needed to eat, and she was alright with some rabbit in her stew too. Her first actions were to camouflage the entrance again so that she need not worry about anyone chancing upon her. She wheeled her bike and wagon inside, and prepared dinner for her good dogs. Rabbit and squirrel stew with fresh vegetables pleased them immensely, one of the hoarded dog biscuits each for dessert. She pedaled a standing bike near her bed that charged up a battery for her night light. That final task done, she lay down in a giant pup-pile and looked over the treasures that she had gathered. She ran the brown polished combs through her gnarled hair, imagining that she looked beautiful like her mother, but from before, not what she looked like after, she preferred not to think about then. She also gently stroked and rubbed the silky ribbons, soft and cool in her hands, she had not felt anything so fine in many years. She leafed through a few children’s books, and some with pictures from before the fall, finally ending with the pretty necklace. It was polished and shiny, like it was glowing in the light of her lamp.

The locket was slightly more than an inch wide, and about a quarter of an inch thick. The whole thing was covered in small decorations, like flowers and leaves and such, etched right into the metal. It was only by happenstance that she managed to push on the special clasp, and the locket sprung open revealing a secret compartment. Inside, she found a black and white picture of a woman with black hair complete with the combs that she found earlier. The woman had a pretty smile, like she was smiling to a secret friend. Kayla imagined that she was her secret friend, and that they were smiling to one another. It had been some time since she had any friend but Justin and the other dogs lying beside her. Like her mother used to say, “If you lie down with dogs, you get to wake up, causer they won’t let anything happen to you.” She casually itched at some fleas in her hair as she turned off the light, and went to sleep in her warm puppy-pile.

The next several days she managed to retrieved all three of her piles of loot, and was going to try for a fourth, when she saw a professional team in an electric truck working the same road, it was good fortune that she had managed to take all of the good stuff before they came. She took several days resting near her home, sniping small animals for the pot, preserving some of the food from her latest find, and relaxing with her babies. She was driven inside, when light rain started up, meaning she would have fresh water for some time, truly a good thing.