“That’s all I need,” Eric said, rolling to his knees and then lifting himself up. He looked at Brad. “Sarah’s right. We need help. We’re going to have to trust someone, some time.”
Brad hissed and stood up. Then a smile came on his face and he shrugged. “Okay,” he said. He patted Eric on the back. “If that’s what you guys want to do.” He sighed and clapped Eric on the back. “Sorry I called you a fat fuck,” he said. “I can be an asshole. Can’t I, Sarah?”
“Yes you can,” Sarah grumbled. Brad helped her to her feet, smiling. He seemed to be happy that they had all defied him.
“I’m not a bad guy though,” Brad said to Eric. “You’ll know that when you get to know me.” Brad sighed and looked down at the people. “All right, then,” he said. “But I’m telling you right now, first sign of weirdness and we’re out of there.”
There were four men and four women.
Their names: Sharif, Katie, David, Mary, Cecile, Van, Mark, and Sharon. They were wary of the newcomers at first. Then, seeing they were mostly children, they became more welcoming as they approached. None of them had guns. One man with curly brown hair stepped forward. His name was Sharif. He shook Brad’s hand and then Sarah’s and finally, Eric’s. Two of the women, Mary and Cecile, descended on Birdie with cries of pleasure. Soon they were ushered lavishly inside the barn and out of the faint, misting rain. They were all soaked, but it was warm and dry in the barn.
Within minutes, they were eating. Hot vegetable stew with a rough, whole grain toast, smeared with goat cheese. The four of them ate rapaciously while the group looked over them. After the soup, they were brought thick slices of crumbling apple pie with cups of hot cider. When they were done, the man named Sharif stood up at the head of the table and formally welcomed them.
“We are happy you’ve found us,” he said. “It is a dangerous world.” The party became subdued at that statement. “Please accept our hospitality and stay as long as you wish. All we ask in return is your aid in maintaining the farm. Everyone works here. That is our way. As long as you help the community to produce what we need, you are welcome to stay.”
Eric noticed that Mark and Sharon glanced at each other. They did not look happy at Sharif’s statement. But Eric was too tired to think of it.
Brad rose to his feet and said, “We’re happy to work. Thanks for the food and everything. And the welcome.” Then he grinned toothily at everyone. Eric felt like he should say something as well, but he was too exhausted.
There were other statements then, ones that he could hardly follow. Finally, he felt an arm at his shoulder and he was led away from the barn and into the large farmhouse. His feet were suddenly upon worn, wooden steps, and he felt his wet clothes stripped from him. Before he knew it, he was between clean, smooth sheets, in a bed that seemed the softest he ever felt. The warm weight of blankets over him, the feel of quilting against his face, Eric fell into a deep sleep before his head was fully rested on the pillow.
Birdie…
Birdie!
Eric sat up in a panic. For a terrifying moment, he did not know where he was. The first thing he saw was a large window, the only in the room, that overlooked a bright green field, with forests beyond. The sun was low on the horizon and shined directly into his eyes, dazzling him. He leapt out of bed and saw that his clothes were gone. He looked around desperately and found a pair of sweat pants, a flannel shirt, and new cotton socks all folded on a dresser. He pulled them on. His heart thundered in him. How could he fall asleep like that without making sure Birdie was all right? He felt sick. Bending over, he found his muddy hiking boots and pulled them on before he rushed out the door and down the steps into an unfamiliar room.
When he heard talking and the clattering of dishes, he turned left, trying to keep himself from crying out. He came into the kitchen and saw a group of them, sitting to eat. “Where’s Birdie?” he blurted out.
“Eric, good morning,” said Sharif, standing up. “We thought—”
“Where’s Birdie? Where’d you take her?” he asked, glaring at them.
The woman named Cecile, a short, round-faced women with dark hair, stood up and walked to him. “She’s okay,” she said. She took his hand. “Birdie is upstairs sleeping. She’s very tired.”
“I know,” said Eric. “I know she’s tired.” He swallowed. He felt confused and defensive. “We’ve been hiking for a long time. She never complains though. She’s a good girl. She’s tough.” He felt tears sting his eyes and he wiped them away angrily. “I know she’s tired.”
“Here,” Cecile said, guiding him to a seat. “Sit, eat some breakfast.”
Eric sat and his heart slowly calmed its frenetic pace. Soon he had a plate of pancakes in front of him with butter and maple syrup. At first, he had no appetite. He only picked at the meal while the people around him continued their discussion. However, the discussion was so innocuous, it soothed him. The four at the table, Sharif, Cecile, David, and Katie, talked about their day, what they planned to accomplish and the help they might need from others. All of it had to do with the management of the farm: taking care of goats, cows, and chickens; fixing fences, walking the fields, repairing a hole in the coop to keep foxes out. Eric calmed and began to eat.
“We didn’t expect you to be up so soon,” Sharif said. “Since you are, would you like to help me today?” Sharif had glistening brown eyes that reminded Eric of root beer candy. He had a long, handsome face, and a slender nose.
“Sure,” Eric said. He glanced nervously to the ceiling.
“Your friends will be okay,” Sharif said. “We’re letting all of you rest as long as you’d like. You can go back to bed if you want.”
“No, that’s okay,” Eric said. “I’d like to help.”
“Good,” he said, and, standing up, Sharif led Eric out over the wet lawn. The sun was coming up bright, burning yesterday’s dampness. The land of the Valley was wide and low, with forested, emerald hills all around them, gentle as sheep. There was not a city in sight. Eric breathed in the fresh morning air.
When they got to the barn, Sharif handed him a pair of gloves and a pitchfork. With the cows out to pasture, they could clean the stalls. Eric pitchforked the manure into a wheelbarrow and then rolled it to the compost pile. Sharif said they would use the manure on the fields for next year’s crop. The smell was strong but comforting. He found he liked it. Soon Eric worked up a comfortable sweat. When they were finished, they sat outside in the warm sun. Sharif brought a canteen of water and they shared it.
“How long have you been here?” asked Eric.
“A long time,” he answered. “I worked here before the worm. That’s true of almost everyone here. When it all collapsed, we decided to stay and start a new, better way of life. We started this, the Slow Society.”
“Slow Society?”
“Do you ever think why the Vaca Beber worm hit us?” Sharif asked.
“Isn’t it from Brazil?”
“Yes,” Sharif said. “But I’m talking about why it happened, Eric. If those cattle ranchers hadn’t been cutting into the Amazon, the worm would have been harmless in the forest the way it had been for millions of years. So why were those ranchers cutting down the forest?”
“For land,” Eric said.
“Yes, ranch land. They cut it down for cows, for beef, so that a lot of people up here in the north could eat cheap hamburgers. The whole country was more interested in eating quickly on their way to the office than seeing the world around them. They just wanted more and more.” Sharif nodded toward the forested hills. “All of this beauty meant nothing to them. They had no connection with the world. They just lived fast, expecting everything to be done for them. They didn’t pick their own vegetables. They had migrant workers do that. They didn’t take care of animals. They had others do that for them. They didn’t even make their own food. They had other people do that and put them in neat plastic packages that could be put in the microwave. It would be done in seconds. That civilization was only about accumulating more and more. Desire is an ugly thing, Eric. It has no end and no goal. They just kept needing more. Meanwhile, the Amazon shrunk year by year. One year they found the Vaca B. That was the choices they made. To live a fast, easy life of consumption and profit. And it destroyed them.”