text: “It’s two fucking wires!”, Virgil said to Lucky who was digging for worms. “We need worms if we’re gonna eat,” Luck replied without looking up. The two of them arrived here about a year ago when the virus finally tipped the scales and there was no looking back. The Covid-19 virus started as a local health issue in the Wuhan province of China. The world halfassly paid attention as the news story went from being a closing story to becoming a lead after the virus had jumped ship, via international travel, and became a global pandemic in six short weeks. The scariest thing about it was it’s incubation rate and how fatal it was. Four to eight week without showing signs of infection and a 90% mortality rate. Scary was being generous. “I’m fucking sick of pike,” Virgil said while digging through dirt and mud. It’d been raining for two days and everything held the water in it, even the air. “Life will change once we can harvest the garlic and onions,” Lucky replied while threading a long, fat worm out of a lump of soft clay. And we’re good for water for a while now. The tarps and drums are really working well now.” “Well aren’t you Oscar Optimist this morning,” Virgil retorted in mild irritation. “What put you in such a stellar mood?” “Garlic and onions aren’t ready to harvest but I did find something that was.” Without looking up, Luck reached into the breast pocket of his battered army coat and slid out half a very fat, very respectable joint. “You fucker! And exactly when were you planning on telling me?” Virgil dusted his hands on his camo cargo pants. Lucky tossed him the half dube and his zippo. “You know,” he said with a grin. “You rarely take into consideration my entertainment.” Virgil, squatting on his haunches shook his head slowly, his smile growing ear to ear. “We gotta find something better when the munchies kick in.” “We could raid the old man again. He’ll be asleep by nine. Maybe find something interesting. I was also thinking we should start planting berries. Strawberries, raspberries, blueberries. That sort of thing.” Virgil exhales deep lungfuls of smoke, “Agreed. But blueberries are a fucking bitch to grow. Cherry tomatoes make a good snack though. Idiots can grow them too.” “Says a lot about us,” Luck said and taking the offered joint. His intense eyes wandered over the scenery. Couldn’t really be much better. The ‘old man’ was a retired horse farmer and a multi-millionaire to boot. When the ‘dynamic duo’ agreed it was time to get out of Dodge, finding this place was a chance in a million. Before the global servers went tits up, they were looking for a place in the woods, far from civi, at the end of a road. “Doesn’t ‘the end of the road’ sound a little fucking ominous to you?” Virgil commented. “That’s why nobody’s gonna go there” was Lucky’s logic. Actually, over the past year it seemed to become Lucky’s Logic. So they took everything they assumed they’d needed, which for Virgil was a lot, packed it in Luck’s pickup and drove east out of the city and hoped for the best. What they found was beyond their wildest dreams. Hundreds of acres of forest, with lakes, rivers and pastures. The old man had two barns which held about fifty horses which he cared for by himself. Fiery old guy, up at 5:00 and in bed at 21:00, never stopping all day to tend the farm. After about a month living there, Virgil and Lucky approached the old man to offer assistance in return for lodging and the single buckshot pellet that blew through Virgil’s shin still hurt when the weather changed. So much for diplomacy. Now lying in the dirt together, both supremely surprised by the potency of Luck’s harvest, Virgil was back at it. “It’s two fucking wires!” he exclaimed with as much vigor as his addled mind could muster, which, admittedly, wasn’t very much. Lucky was consumed by the beauty of the rolling clouds strolling gently through the mesmerizing sky which wasn’t very mesmerizing at all. “What?” he mumbled. “Two fucking wires! He’s got about a billion watts of solar power down there. He’s not gonna notice if we nick a little of it.” “What?”, Lucky eloquently retorted. “There’s about a billion feet of wire in the big barn. We can steal a plug socket and a case, take the wire we need and bury it from here to the power relay he uses to heat his indoor pool. Then we just connect the two wires to the relay and have more electricity than we can ever use. Where’s the downside?” Lucky thought he saw elephants in the clouds. Virgil was on his back, trying to work out the math for his latest plan. “And if you say ‘What?’ again I’m gonna... fuck it. I can think of a lot of things to finish that sentence but I doubt I can even stand up right now. How the fuck did you grow that so strong?!?? “What?” That night found them putting at a joint and reviewing ‘the mission’. With no security whatsoever, it was easy to steal the wire, the plug socket and a shovel for the next mission. Night time in this new normal was pitch black, with the moon and the stars serving as the only source of light. The barn was huge. Like two football fields huge. The biggest problem was making sure the horses didn’t wake up. Especially while Virgil was humming the theme from Mission Impossible. Lucky was at the door of the tack room, where the old man kept all the horse stuff, saddles, bridles, carrots. His eyes scanning for anything but knowing full well, from past experience, that there was nothing to scan for. He literally could have been walking around naked with a headlight strapped to his forehead. “Can you stop humming that fucking song?” he whispered, not wanted to alarm the horses. “This is about as far from impossible as taking a shit.” Virgil would have no part of Lucky’s Logic. He continued to hum away. Luck just rolled his eyes. Virgil had cut off the length of wire they needed at what he calculated to be about 300 feet. But 300 feet of triple strand copper wire weighs about 100 pounds so they split it in two to share the burden. “When’s the last time you went upstairs,” Virgil asked. “I don’t know,” Luck whispered back. “Just after we got here I think.” “Wanna go have a peek? We’re not here often these days,” Virgil asked. Lucky weighed the worth of his friend’s curiosity. “Peek for what?” he asked. “I don’t know. Who knows what the old man has up there. It’s not like we’re in a rush. And I was also thinking on the way back we take a quick look for any munchies in his fridge.” Virgil shot Luck the grin that always made him shake his head and smile. “C’mon, man! What else have we got to do?” After getting the wire and shovel in a wheelbarrow they were about to steal they both ninja’d their way back into the barn and up the stairs that lead to the apartment above the barn meant for the farmhand to live in. It was completely dark and Virgil clicked on his flashlight for a second. “Turn that off!” Lucky forcefully whispered. “I can’t see a thing now!” Virgil knew Luck was talking about how regular light fucked up a human's innate ability to see in the dark. Virgil, mentally agreeing with his friend, was also content that turning on his flashlight kept him from stepping on one of the numerous barn cats. He clicked it off plunging them both back to the invisible abyss. Virgil found the door at the top of the stairs and silently twisted the knob which didn’t twist at all. “Fuck,” he hissed. “It’s fucking locked.” Lucky reached into his shitty canvas bag and gave Virgil the worn lockpick set he’d had since high school. Virgil had the door open in 10 seconds. The apartment was surprisingly renovated. Brand new everything, granite counter tops, solid wood kitchen cabinets, hardwood floors. Both quietly looked in every cabinet, every drawer. Above the stainless steel fridge, Virgil let out a low whistle. “What?” Lucky asked. “Imma turn on the flashlight for sec, okay?” Virgil asked. Luck shielded his eyes. “Just for a sec.” Virgil clicked the flashlight on then off after 2 seconds. Then he started giggling. “What?” Luck whispered again. “It’s a 60.” Virgil offered. “Of what?” Lucky asked “Looks like our old friend” “Jack?” “Yep,” Virgil replied. “Jack Daniels is joining us for dinner.” Lucky then began giggling too. “Fuck yeah!” “I’m just gonna check the bathroom then we head out,” Virgil whispered after giving the bottle to Lucky. “Sounds good”. Virgil inched his way to the bathroom, hoping beyond hope, he’d secure some toilet paper. You can’t understand what the quality of life is when you don’t have toilet paper. The moonlight was peeking through the patio door and when Virgil got to the bathroom what he saw gave him pause for thought. There was tape across the door like you’d see in a police investigation. “Luck!” he whispered silently. “What do you make of this?” Lucky didn’t really care much. Though the thought of having a 60 of Jack Daniels AND toilet paper seemed to immediately become abundantly important. “I don’t know,” he replied. “Just go have a quick peek” This seemed to give Virgil the confidence he needed and he opened the door and stepped in. What surprised him most as he stepped through the door was the towering pile of toilet paper he saw on the shelf at the edge of his vision. For a split second. Having a doctorate in mechanical engineering, his brain, in lightning-fast realization, determined that the tape on the door was to keep people out of the bathroom because the floor was being replaced and the only thing covering the beams meant to hold the new floor was paper. He disappeared from Lucky’s view in a split second. He was there and then he was gone. His crash to the floor below was surprisingly muted because he landed on hay. Hay for the stallion in the stable in which Virgil now found himself. For anyone who knows anything about horses, the stallion is, by far, one of the most fearsome and dangerous animals on the planet. They’re purpose is to breed. Horse farmers purposely prevent this from happening until it’s time to happen. So you essentially have a horse, fully 1500 pounds, that is so angry because he’s horny as fuck standing four feet from Virgil. Add to this that the irate animal was sleeping and doesn’t take kindly to being shocked awake and you have a very unpleasant environment for Virgil to find himself in. And to really put the final nail in the coffin, the stable is, of course, locked from the outside. The braying and snorting of the animal a floor below him quickly brought Lucky’s attention from the 60 in his backpack to his friend in mortal danger. Still feeling the effects of the weapons-grade weed he grew, he bounded, then fell down the stairs. Sadly, he had to admit, that when tumbling down the stairs his first thought was not of saving his friend but of hoping that the 60 didn’t break as he barreled, head first, into the wall at the base of the stairs. As Lucky scrambled back to his feet and into the stables, Virgil was fairing far worse than his potential rescuer. The stallion was now fully awake and fully pissed at the intrusion to his miserable existence. Virgil knew well enough to not get behind the beast, his scientific mind knowing that a horse kick approached 2000 pounds per square inch. What he had never learned was that while avoiding the powerful kicks he did not realize that horses bite. He also was unaware that a stallion can easily bite off a human arm completely. So, in hindsight, he had to admit that he was happy, well, less miserable, when the horse decided that he could neutralize his invader by biting its head. Just as Virgil was uselessly trying to hold the stallion’s head, and teeth, away from his, Lucky opened the stable gate and punched the horse squarely in the eye. The result was madness. The stallion reeled up and brayed loud enough to wake the other horses who clearly felt the need to support their breeding seed and began to make noises loud enough to wake the dead. Including the old (but not quite dead) man. Virgil and Lucky zipped through the stable gate, locked the door, and bolted to their bounty of wire. And a shovel. Watching the farm lights come on in horror, they ran, full sprint for over an hour, down the dirt road and up the hill to their camp. Exhausted, battered and bruised and pumping on adrenaline, they both lay sprawled on their backs. “Two fucking wires!”, Luck exhaled. Virgil reached into Lucky’s battered backpack and pulled out the 60. “Shots?” he asked without raising his head. And they both lay on the ground, covered in mud and horse shit, and couldn’t stop laughing.