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Nick valued the wisdom Steve imparted. He made him think considerably more than others he came into contact with in these parts.

All cattle, no hat — what you saw, you could set your watch by.

Steve’s very being was near discrete and yet how does one measure a soul. Science tired and failed miserably, believing the body was merely a vessel destined for perpetuity within a machine.

“I’ll have the chains ready Thursday, have some work to do on the fiber collector, it iced up something fierce.” Steve growled.

Steve rarely made small talk, he was wired for purpose. Nick thanked him, took his que and departed. As he drove up the ridge he noticed a spreader bar hanging ten feet of the ground from the limb of a large pine. It had not been there several hours ago. Nick pulled off the timber road, turned around and drove up to the bent metal just off the ditch. There was a large 55 gallon drum covered in pine needles at the base of the enormous tree. Gutting buckets were hard to come by, most had been drilled for use as burn drums.

Feral pigs had been breeding like rats for some time. Their population had increased exponentially. Even though they were hardly native, this was a welcome and very natural event and a source of protein which provided a steady flow of hams, backstraps and cured pork bellies to the local markets. Nick very much enjoyed bacon.. in fact he believed everything food was best, bacon wrapped. Steve had given him a cake with crispy bacon bits in the cream frosting for his birthday. Nick had kept a piece in the freezer, unable to bring himself to depart with this slice of heaven.

The UHF cracked suddenly with an inaudible shriek, it was January. Nick could not make out what had just come over the radio, but it concerned him. He wheeled the truck onto the road and grabbed the handset — “Jan, I couldn’t make that… over” January was beside herself in grief, all she could muster was “Nick, I need you.”