Chapter 28

The commblock rang, but Jim didn’t pay attention to it.  He had been ignoring his commblock all day.  He had both sorghum and corn fields ready for harvest at the same time this year and heavy rain was forecast for ten days in a row, starting Monday.  He had six-hundred eighty acres he hoped to finish combining before then, and he needed all of his focus on his fields right now.

Jim had decided two weeks back that he needed to double-up on the harvesting.  He had called around to his neighbors about renting their equipment, but one after the other were seeing the same grain ripening overlap, and couldn’t spare their equipment when Jim wanted.  He eventually found an outfit in Falls City, Nebraska that was willing to rent him a combine for five days.  Getting the permit to drive it across the state line was a hassle enough, as the combine was owned by a cooperative that insisted on him getting the necessary licensing to drive a unit registered in Nebraska on Kansas roads.  On top of that, he paid well above standard rates to arrange for a grain truck to trail the rented combine, since his own truck would be in use following his own combine in the corn fields.   

It was well into the afternoon when his commblock sounded yet again, but this time he paid attention as the ring was one he preset to stand out.  The name “Megan Hinajosa” appeared on the screen.

“Hi, Megan,” Jim said, trying not to sound tense.  “Is everything alright?”

“Well, it was going fine, Mr. Kaufmann, but I’m trying to get into the field on the corner of Road 128 and Goff-Oneida, and the road is blocked,” the nineteen-year old girl said, with more than a bit of concern in her voice.

“Don’t worry, Megan,” Jim responded with a bit of relief.  “I told Sheriff McAllister that you’re working for me again this season, but maybe the word didn’t get to all of the deputies.  If you want to hand them your commblock, I can explain it to them.”

“It’s not the Sheriff or any of his deputies, Mr. Kaufmann.  A bunch of people have their transpods parked in the middle of the road, and I can’t get past,” Megan said.

“Well, just give a quick punch on the air horn, Megan.  They’ll get the hint and move on down the road,” Jim said.

“I’m not so sure I want to do that, Mr. Kaufmann,” Megan said, with a bit more worry in her voice.  “They were walking away from the transpods when I drove up, but when they heard the equipment, they turned around.  Now they’re making their way back.”

“I’m sorry, Megan, but this isn’t making sense,” Jim replied.  “Can you have your commblock show me what you’re looking at?”

The image on Jim’s screen shifted from the young woman’s face to the county road with three transpods parked across the path.  Jim could see ten people about a quarter-mile down the road walking back towards the transpods.  The jeans and ball caps they were wearing were not unusual, but the long-sleeve jackets and masks made Jim do a double-take.

“Where are the license plates from, Megan,” Jim said, trying to remain calm.

“Um, two from Missouri and one from Illinois,” Megan replied, and her image returned on the screen, so she could look at her bosses face.  “Why does that matter, Mr. Kaufmann?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jim lied.  “I just thought if they were local, the Sheriff could find out who the drivers are and ask them to move.  Tell you what, Megan, don’t worry about getting down to the turn-in.  You should be able to turn through the grass next to the road and make it into the field.  I don’t care about the tire tracks.”

“I was going to do that, Mr. Kaufmann, but this is the part of the field that rises up right before the edge.  I think the front of the header would jam into the hill before the whole combine would lift up,” Megan said.

“Well, then just back up down the road,” Jim said.  “You can take it slow and pull the combine into the lane for the old Koch farmhouse.  I’ll send the pickup over and you can drive the grain truck into NeKan Coop.”

“I linked the grain truck into the combine navigation and had it follow me, so I can’t back the combine up since the grain truck is behind me.  And I don’t know how to reverse both of these at the same time,” Megan said.

“Don’t worry about the combine, Megan.  Just hop in the grain truck and it will be able to reverse on its own,” Jim said with a bit of urgency in his voice.

“I’m not sure I want to do that, Mr. Kaufmann.  Those people are now jogging this way.  I’m afraid they might catch me before I get in the truck,” the girl said, the concern in her voice raising noticeably.

“Can you show me what you’re seeing again, please, Megan?” Jim asked.

The girl switched the commblock focus and Jim could clearly see the people jogging, now just a few hundred yards away.  Some of them were waving their hands.

“Megan,” Jim said.  “I’m on my way over.  I’ll be there in a few minutes.  Do you know where the safety locks for the doors are?”  As he was asking this question, Jim turned out of the corn rows he was combining, shut off the header, increased the equipment speed, bumping over the ground and heading to the edge of the field next to the road.

“I’m not sure,” Megan said, the image on the commblock moving as she turned around in the cabin of the machine.  “Um, the red bolt left of the tach?”

“Yes, that’s it.  Go ahead and latch that, Megan,” Jim said, with his voice shaking from the bumping in the combine cab.  “Like I said, I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

“Please, hurry, Mr. Kaufmann,” the girl said, her own voice starting to quiver.

Jim ended the call, brought up his pickup truck nav, and instructed it to drive to his location.  He looked at the time on the cabin display.  2:45 PM.

The pick-up pulled into the field and started bouncing towards him.  Jim increased the speed of both the combine and the pick-up, to where grain was bouncing out of the hopper of the combine, and the front bumper of the pick-up was hitting the dirt on the crests between the troughs in the field.

He pulled the combine to a quick halt and jumped out of the cab as the pickup approached.  He ran towards the pickup as it automatically slowed down and stopped as it got close to him.

His commblock sounded and he looked down to see “Betty Reynolds” on the display.

“Not now, cousin,” Jim grumbled and hit the ‘Ignore’ option.

Jim hopped into the pick-up, and tapped in the access path for the field Megan was trying to enter.  The truck moved at a speed that was too slow for his liking, so Jim swiped to increase speed.  When the pickup wouldn’t respond, Jim had to put the vehicle into manual override and take control of the wheel and speed pedals himself.  He could hear bumps, creaks and cracks as he went, wondering what sort of permanent damage he was doing to the pickup.

Jim finally got the pickup out of the field and onto the road.  He kept the vehicle on manual control and sped down the road, ignoring the warning on the console that he was exceeding the legal speed limit.

“Call Mike McAllister,” Jim said out loud, noting the time of 2:49 PM on the console.

The pickup console brought up the photo of the County Sheriff and repeated the ringing sound, waiting for the Sheriff to answer.

“Recipient not available,” the console told Jim after eight rings.

“Call County Dispatcher,” Jim then requested.

The console displayed the county seal and started ringing.  After five rings, the image switched to the Kansas state seal, rang once more, and a voice answered “Shared Kansas Dispatch.  What is your emergency, please?”

“I need to speak to the Nemaha County Dispatcher,” Jim said.

“All lines into Nemaha County Dispatcher are full at the moment.  What is your emergency and we will attempt to locate alternate assistance,” the voice on the console announced.

“Hang up!” Jim said sharply.  

“Call Amy McAllister,” Jim then commanded.

2:51 PM on the console as the pickup turned the corner from Road R onto Road 128, wheels squealing.

After three rings, Amy appeared on the screen.  “Jim, can I call you back?” Amy asked quickly.

“No, Amy.  Megan Hinojosa is surrounded by a bunch of out-of-town crazies on Road 128 and Goff-Oneida and I need someone to get over there to help.  Mike didn’t answer when I called him, nor did your dispatch line,” Jim said hurriedly.

“Jim, we’ve got crazies all over the place at the moment.  Mike is talking to the Governor and the Chief of the State Police.  All of the cars are dispatched, I’m calling in everyone who is off duty.  I’m trying to get Jerry Johnson on the line now, so he can send over some of the Kickapoo Rangers as backup,” Amy said.  “Isn’t Megan helping you this week?”

“Yes,” the farmer answered.  “But you’re running the dispatch center.  Can’t you redirect someone to help?”

“You’ll need to go help her yourself, Jim,” Amy said.  “I’ve got assaults and medical emergencies all around over there, so unless she’s bleeding out right now, I can’t spare anyone.”

“Well she might be if,” but Jim’s response was interrupted when the County Emergency Dispatcher hung up.

“Damnit!” Jim cursed, approaching some stopped vehicles ahead.  2:53 pm.

Getting closer, Jim recognized the grain truck and combine and started honking his horn.  He got close enough to see the people surrounding the combine look back to see who was honking.

Four people were around the grain truck, trying to get inside the cab.  Two were pulling on the doors and one was on the hood, swinging a bat at the window.

Jim honked faster and longer.  He saw the other six around the combine.  Two on the ladder, trying to open the door to the cabin of the combine.  They stopped as he screeched to a stop behind the grain truck.

Jim quickly hopped out and started yelling, “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

One of the group pulling on the door of the grain truck hopped down from the cab.  “We’re here to set things straight,” he shouted back.  “What are you doing?”

“Get away from those vehicles,” Jim said.  “They don’t belong to you.”

“They do now,” the man said, starting to move towards Jim.

Jim quickly reached in behind the drivers seat of his car, and grabbed an item in each hand.  Stepping out from behind the door, he shoved two cartridges into a shotgun and brought it around to aim at the strangers.

The man stopped running towards him.

“I said they don’t belong to you,” Jim repeated.

The man nearest to Jim looked back at one of the people trying to open the cabin of the combine.  That man also hopped to the ground and started walking towards Jim.

“I don’t think you really want to get in our way, buddy,” the second man said.  “We’ve got a need, so we’re going to take these – these..”

“It’s a combine and a grain truck, Reaper,” a woman in the group said.

“Shut up, whore!” Reaper screamed.  “I don’t care what they are.  I want them and I’m going to take them.”

Jim started walking forwards towards the equipment.  “They don’t belong to you,” he repeated a third time.

“I told you I don’t give a f…” Reaper started to say.

Jim fired the shotgun, aiming high.

All of the strangers paused.

“You better put that away before someone gets hurt,” Reaper said.

“Get away from the combine,” Jim commanded.

“I said…” Reaper started.

Jim fired again, aiming a little lower this time.

“Someone is going to get hurt if you don’t move away from the combine,” Jim said as he approached the vehicle.  He reloaded the shotgun with two more rounds, and aimed it at those by the cabin.

They hopped down and started backing away from the combine.

Jim approached the ladder, still keeping the strangers in the sights of the gun.

“Come on down, Megan,” he said.

Things were quiet for a few seconds, and then a loud ‘click’ sound was followed by the sound of footsteps on the combine ladder.

Jim quickly looked over his shoulder to see the shaking girl next to him.

“Follow me back to the pickup,” he said.

Jim and Megan were able to make it back to the pickup without incident, as the other strangers kept their distance from the shotgun wielding farmer.

Once they were both inside, Jim locked the doors and began moving the pickup backwards away from the scene.

The out-of-town anarchists took the opportunity to rush into the cabin of the combine.

“Damnit!” Jim hissed, slowing his retreat.

“What’s wrong?” Megan asked, her worried look increasing.

“Oh,.. nothing,” Jim said, speeding his reverse course again.

Megan looked at the group of people.

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them.  They won’t get it anywhere,” she said.

“I put the combine on open access mode this morning, Megan,” Jim said.  “I wasn’t sure who all might need to help move things around today.”

“They won’t get it anywhere since I enabled owner recognition again,” Megan explained.  “I did it right before I got out of the cab.  You said it yourself.  It’s not their equipment.”

Jim looked at the young woman, smiled, and they both started laughing.

He got the pickup turned around, and gave the vehicle an address to drive to.

Once the pickup started driving itself again and Jim took his hands off the wheel, he noticed they were visibly shaking.

Megan spoke up.  “Thank you, Mr. Kaufmann.  You saved me back there.”

“Megan, I am so sorry I got you into that,” Jim said.

“I don’t know what they’re doing, but it’s not your fault, Mr. Kaufmann.  ” she said.  “If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to take the rest of the day off today.”

“Yes,” Jim responded.  “That I insist on.”

They were quiet the rest of the ten minute drive back to Megan’s parents house.

They pulled into the driveway of the fifty-year old, two-story home built on a county highway a  quarter-mile outside of Seneca.

“I’ll come up and let your parents know what happened,” Jim said.

“They’re both at work,” Megan said.

Jim looked at her doubtfully.

“Mom was able to move from third to first shift last month because so many people were leaving the factory, and Dad got called in today.  Come on in if you don’t believe me!”  the girl explained, sounding more like a teenager than she had all afternoon.

“No, that’s OK,” Jim said.  “I don’t want them to think I’m not taking responsibility for what happened to you.”

“I already told you, Mr. Kaufmann, it wasn’t your fault.  It was those crazy assholes…  Oh! Sorry!  Those crazy people that caused all the issues,” Megan responded.

“If I was your parent, I’d be very upset you had been allowed to get into that situation,” Jim said.

“I’ve been talking to them all day,” Megan responded.  “Well, mostly Dad.  He messaged me when he left for the Courthouse, asking where I was.  I told him I was already in one of the fields, and he seemed OK.  He told me to let him know once I got home.”

“OK.  Well, please have one of them call me when they get back.  And, Megan, if you need anything before they get home, call me, okay?” Jim said.

“Sure,” Megan said and got out of the pickup.  She turned back to her employer before shutting the door.  “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No, I’ve been ignoring my block all day, but I’m sure it’s nothing big,” Jim said, trying to sound reassuring.

He watched Megan go inside the house and then drove back towards his farm.

There was a lot more traffic now.  Well above the norm.  And almost all of it headed towards town.  But Jim ignored his curiosity, wanting to get back to his abandoned equipment.

By the time he arrived, there were another six transpods parked behind the grain truck.  Jim stepped out of his pickup, got his shotgun, and walked towards his machinery.

No one else was around.

He noticed that five of the six pods had out-of-state licenses.

At first, things didn’t look too bad.  But when Jim got close enough, he saw the front windshield of the grain truck had been busted in.  He was able to open the door and saw that the seat cushion had been slashed and the lift controls for the truck bed had been broken off, but otherwise the truck console was still functional and the truck could start.

The combine looked better from the outside.  The positive feeling was short-lived, however, as the inside of the combine cabin looked much worse than the grain truck.  All of the gauges and monitors were either smashed or cracked.  The fire extinguisher had been smashed through the back window.  And someone had urinated on the floor and seat.

“Well, I can’t just leave this here,” Jim said to himself, his rural practicality coming through.

He was able to get the combine started, and the main image on the main console was visible enough through the cracks on the screen that Jim could see basic vehicle status information.  He had to use voice commands as the screen was not recognizing any touch, however.

Jim gingerly drove the combine in manual control along the grass edge next to the road to get around the three transpods blocking forward progress.  After turning around and repeating the move the other direction around all of the other vehicles, he had the combine on an open road heading east.  He drove it past the old Koch farmhouse he told Megan about earlier, and then parked the vehicle.

Jim returned to the grain truck, brushed the broken glass of the seat onto the floor, and proceeded to deftly drive the grain truck backwards past the parked pods.  This was a little easier, as those transpods were parked in single file and the truck wasn’t nearly as wide as the combine, so required less clearance.

Finally, after backing into the farmhouse driveway and getting the grain truck pointed the same direction as the combine, Jim went back to his pickup, brought up the remote vehicle controls on its console and sent both the damaged combine and grain truck limping back to his barns.

As Jim followed them, his commblock rang again, the pickup console showing “Mike McAllister.”

“Answer,” Jim told the pickup.  “Hello, Mike?”

“Jim?” the Sheriff responded.  “Are you OK?”

“Yes,” Jim said

“What about Megan Hinojosa?  Amy told me you called her about an emergency situation.”

“That was over an hour ago!” Jim said, not bothering to hide his anger.  “She could have been dead by now!”

“How is she, Jim!” the Sheriff repeated.

“She’s fine now,” Jim replied, calming down a bit.  “I had to go blasting in to save her from a bunch of yahoos, but she’s home now.  Hey, did Joe get called in today?  Megan said he had to go down to the Courthouse.”

“Yes, everyone got called in today,” Mike said.  “What happened to you two?”

“You tell me what’s happening out there, Mike,” Jim said.  “Megan was attacked when she was driving my combine to the west fields, and now I’ve got easily twenty-five thousand dollars worth of repairs to do on the combine and the grain truck to have them usable again after they were vandalized.”

“I thought you said Megan was OK?” the sheriff asked.

“She is,” Jim explained.  “I got there in time before they did anything to her.  And they wouldn’t mess with me once they saw I wasn’t afraid to use my shotgun.”

“You didn’t shoot anyone, did you Kaufmann?” the sheriff demanded.

“No,” Jim said, “at least not that I saw.”

“Damnit, Jim, I’m a Sheriff, not your lawyer!” Mike exclaimed.  “I can’t ignore it if you start shooting at people, even if you didn’t hit anybody.”

“Sheriff McAllister, if those folks find you and file a complaint against me, I’m happy to accept the consequences of my actions.,” Jim said defiantly.  “Right now, my teenage employee is home alone trying to deal with the trauma they caused her, and I’ve got the largest repair bill of the year staring me in the face with key equipment offline that will likely cost me thousands if not tens of thousands more in spoilt grain, all due to their actions.  If they do complain about me, I’d appreciate hearing about it, because I’ve got a couple of those things I’d like to talk to them about.”

“Please, Jim, we don’t need anything else going on at the moment,” the sheriff said.  “I’m sorry to hear they trashed your combine.”

“And grain truck!” Jim interjected.

“And your grain truck,” Sheriff Mike continued.  “I’m more upset to hear poor Megan was harassed.  But that’s tame to what’s been happening today.”

“What is going on, Mike?” Jim asked his friend.

“What’s going on?” the sheriff said in disbelief.  “Have you been hiding under a tree all day?”

“No, I’ve been working.  Too busy to go watch any casts right now,” Jim explained.

“Well, I’m too busy to be your personal newscaster, ol’ buddy.” the sheriff countered.  “I’m glad to hear you’re alright.  Even more glad to hear little Miss Hinojosa is doing well.  Stay out of trouble, please.  Gotta go.”

And the call ended.

The timing was good for Jim as he had reached the barns on his homestead.  He stopped all of the vehicles and manually parked the combine and grain truck in the barn.

Afterwards he got back in the pickup, and gave the command “Ford, drive to Field 17.”  The pickup drove back out onto the county road and headed to where Jim had left the rented equipment.

“Ford, describe top news story in Kansas,” Jim said.

The vehicle console lit up.  “There are three top news stories from Kansas today.

1.  Former Senator Nancy Brown passes after brief illness.

2.  Global riots at alien launch sites rock Seneca, Kansas.

3.  Kansas City Chiefs confirm final season in Missouri.

Would you like to listen to all three stories or one in partic…”

“Ford,” Jim interrupted.  “Share news on alien launch site in Seneca, Kansas.”

The pickup console displayed the logo for ‘Sky News America’ and the segment began.

“Today the alien presence was felt around the world in a manner not seen since the initial launch date four months ago.  Nearly five million people have left for the new planet many here are calling Nova.  Yesterday, the first images of human life on Nova arrived back here on Earth.  But those images were a surprise to people around our globe.  After the horrendous images appeared late yesterday of alien robots dragging out dead humans from the colony ships and dropping them in piles of bodies on the distant planet, people on Earth descended on all of the alien launch sites to demand answers and to stop the deaths.”

“Protestors arrived at every site, even those in normally controlled and contained China.  The protests quickly turned violent in many locations as the rioters overwhelmed local officials, resulting in destruction and even death.  Those sites here in the U.S. were not immune to this violence, with even remote Seneca, Kansas becoming a hot-spot of extremists activity.  Reporting from Seneca is our own Shirley Urzhokhin.”

The screen switched to a blond reporter parked on what Jim recognized as the portion of Goff-Oneida road in front of two ponds on what used to be the western edge of his property.

“Thanks, Cindy.  As you can see behind me, the crowds have overrun this normally quiet part of rural Middle America.  The protesters began arriving here in small numbers late in the morning, but the crowds quickly became too numerous and unruly for local police to be able to handle.”

The cast showed fights breaking out between people, and one bloodied protesters being led away from the crowd in handcuffs by none other than Joe Hinojosa.

“What started as people arriving at the fence surrounding the alien elevator site to demand to speak directly with the aliens turned violent as agitators ignored the local sheriff’s call to disperse.  Attempts to break the fence barrier failed until the protestors drove some farm equipment through the barrier.”

Jim recognized what looked like Harvey Sanders combine being driven through the fence, with the corn header both tearing up the perimeter divide as well as the fence destroying the header blades and forks.

“At this hour, the State Highway Police and National Guard are arriving to assist with the situation, but this is far from being under control and people continue to arrive in droves.”

The camera panned to the other side of the road showing the field that Jim’s teenage help was headed for just a few hours ago.  There were now dozens of transpods parked next to and in the field, with multiple acres of crops ruined by both foot and vehicle traffic.

“Coming to you live from Seneca, Kansas, this is Shirley Urzhokhin, Sky News America.”

“Ford, stop news,” Jim barked.

He looked up to see he was approaching the field where he left the rented gear earlier that afternoon, and took manual control to park the pickup in the field.

Jim got out of the truck, left the door open, walked over to the road, and looked west.  The farmer couldn’t see past the crops in the next field, but he could see smoke in the sky.  He shook his head and began pacing along the road.

“What in the hell is going on here?” Jim shouted without warning.

He stopped his pacing and turned towards the rising smoke.

“Who do they think they are, coming here from who knows where, tearing up my fields, destroying my crops, invading my property!” Jim said emphatically, slapping his chest at every “my”.

“I can’t live my life the way I want,”  Jim continued, waving his arm. “My neighbors can’t live theirs, my friends can’t live theirs, the whole community is turned upside down because of them.”   

He started pacing again.  “No one, not a single person asked them to come here.  They’re outsiders!  They’re trouble makers!  They don’t belong here and should go back to wherever they came from!”

“They never asked permission, screwed everything up, and I want them off my land!” Jim finished, throwing his cap as hard and as far as he could.

He stood there breathing hard for a bit longer, then calmed down, retrieved his cap from the ground, and started walking over to the combine.  He paused, returned to the pickup, took out the shotgun and ammunition, and then returned to the rented equipment to finish combining.

After forty-five minutes, the grain truck was filled and he sent instructions for it to haul the load to the local elevator.

“Unable to complete order,” was the message that appeared on the console.  Jim sent the instructions to the grain truck again, and again the message appeared that the order could not be followed.

“Ford, call NeKan Coop Seneca Branch,” Jim commanded.

The console didn’t make a ringing sound to indicate it was trying to contact the elevator.  Instead, a message appeared on screen and was simultaneously spoken by the pickup console.  “Due to circumstances beyond our control, we are closed for the remainder of the day.  At this time, we also expect to be closed tomorrow, Saturday, September 22nd.  We regret the inconvenience and recommend contacting Morrill Elevator or Home City Grain for immediate grain receipt.”

Jim searched for other elevators accepting grain and angrily typed instructions to send the grain truck to Falls City Grain Company twenty-file miles away.  Neither they nor any other elevator he contacted were sending out any grain trucks that evening, so Jim made a few more rounds on the combine to fill up its hopper, and then drove it back to his farm, having his pickup follow behind.

It was dark by the time the combine was stored in the barn and Jim made his way back to his house.  

As he was sitting down at his kitchen table with a beer and a block of cheese, Jim’s commblock rang again.  “Betty Reynolds” appeared on the screen.  He let the call go to his message queue, but listened to what his cousin had to say.

“Jim, please call me back.  This is Betty again.  It’s dark now, and the images I’m seeing on the casts are crazy.  I really don’t mean to bother you, but I’m worried about you, and want to know you’re alright.  OK, Thanks, I hope to talk to you soon.  Bye.”

Jim looked at his message queue and had seven other unheard messages, including four from his cousin.  He began listening to her earlier comments.

“Ten thirty-three AM” the message app intoned.  

“Hi, Jim, Cousin Betty here.  It’s 9:30 here, so you’re probably working already.  But I wanted to let you know I’m pretty sure I saw that girl you were talking about in the Spring on a cast just now.  You know – the one that visited with you before getting on the alien ship?  Well, give me a call when you have a moment and let me know if that was her on the images they showed from the alien planet.”

“Twelve sixteen PM” the message app intoned.  

“Hi, Jim, Cousin Betty again.  I heard about the casts showing those poor people that died getting hauled off the ships and dumped like yesterday’s trash.  That’s awful!  And from what I see, there’s a lot of protestors gathering at sites in Europe and Africa.  I hope nothing like that is happening near you.  Give me a call and let me know what you’re seeing there.”

“Two fifty-five PM” the message app intoned.  

“Jim, I just saw a live report from the two alien sites near Cleveland and Atlanta.  The protestors are getting real riled up!  They said the same things are happening in California and Texas and even where you’re at, but they haven’t shown anything yet.  I’d really like to hear from you to know you’re OK, cousin.  If I don’t hear from you soon, I may call around there, since I know how close the farm is to that stupid space elevator they planted in your field.”

“Six oh-four PM” the message app intoned.  

“Jim!  I saw a report from Seneca, and the casters showed everyone that gathered outside of town.  They interviewed the sheriff and he said the Kansas National Guard was coming into town to help control things.  Isn’t he your friend that we met at the restaurant that one night when I visited?  I called the sheriff’s office to have them check on you, but nobody answered.  Oh my God, Jim, I’m so worried!  Please call me back.”

He felt bad now, ignoring all the calls that day.  One of the others was a friend from Seneca United Methodist checking in on him, a second was a call from a neighbor letting him know he saw some equipment that looked like his along the road and it was really beat up, and the third was a recorded message from the sheriff’s office announcing a curfew was going into effect at sunset and all traffic into the county was being stopped by satellite control effective immediately.

“Call Betty Reynolds,” Jim instructed his commblock.

It only rang one time.

“Jim!  Is that you?” Cousin Betty said before her face fully appeared on the screen.

“Hi Betty, yes it’s me,” Jim said.  “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your earlier messages.  I’ve been out in the fields all day trying to get some combining done.  We’re expecting a lot of rain in three days, so I was ignoring everything else.”

“Oh my goodness, Jim!  I’m so relieved to see your face, darlin!” Cousin Betty said as she looked up and down at what she could see of Jim.  “Are you all right?  Did any of those hoodlums get to you?  Where are you now?”

“I’m OK, Betty,” Jim said calmly.  “I’m back at my house.  See!” he pointed to the commblock around the room to show her the setting.

“Well, how can that be!” she exclaimed.  “Everything they are showing is just so crazy there!  They drove somebody’s combine through the fence and tried to ram it into the alien space elevator, but it didn’t get close.  So they started the grass around there on fire, but that didn’t do anything, since that elevator thing is in the middle of a field with bare dirt all around it.  Didn’t you say it was on the edge of your property?  How can your house still be standing!”

“The aliens made their home on the opposite end of the farm here.  That’s over two miles away,” Jim explained.  “I’m guessing most people drove here on Route 36 or Highway 63, so they went well around me.  To be honest, I didn’t know about all of the excitement until about four hours ago, so I don’t know how many people are here.”

“What happened four hours ago?” Betty asked.

“Well, you remember that combine you saw?  If it weren’t for a fast-thinking young girl, I’m afraid that would have been my combine on the cast,” Jim said, trying to chuckle.

“Oh my gosh, Jim, what happened!   Did they attack you!,” his cousin demanded, looking his face over again.

“No, not me,” Jim paused.  “Well, never mind.  Nobody got hurt.  But I had to change a few plans around after that, and by the time I got back in the field, got the equipment back here, and got inside just a few minutes ago, I realized I had a bunch of messages from you.  Again, Betty, I’m very sorry you had to get so worried, that..”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, cousin,” Betty interrupted.  “I’m just thankful you’re still in one piece.  But what are you still doing there?  You should clear out!”

“I told you, Betty, I’m fine.” Jim said.  “Nothing crazy going on here.  Is there, Marv?”

Jim’s dog barked obediently.

“Well, thank the Lord you’ve got that dog, Jim,” Betty said.  “He’s smarter than you sometimes.  If he gets spooked, it’s time for you to leave.”

“I’ll agree with you about that, Betty.  I think he’s a lot smarter than I am,” Jim said, actually chuckling this time.  “Hey, you said in your first message that you saw Luna earlier today?  Were they showing old casts or something?”

“No,” Betty said, her demeanor shifting from one of concern to one of interest in sharing a good story.  “She was on one of the transmissions from the new planet!  They showed her walking straight from the alien ship and right into a river, dunking herself completely under water!  Is that what the Indians do out there?  It seemed a bit strange, but…”

“Sorry, Betty,” Jim interrupted.  “You saw her on what sort of cast?”

“It was a recording from the new planet,” his cousin repeated.  “You know.  They said they’d send back recordings so we could see that those people that went there actually made it safely.  I guess the recordings are seventeen weeks old, from what the caster said.  Anyway, that Indian girl, what’d you say her name was?  Loony?”

“No, it’s Luna,” Jim corrected.

“Yes, Luna,” Cousin Betty said.  “Well, she just walked off that ship and right into the river like she was hypnotized or something.  Did she act strange like that around you?  She looked like a sweet thing when they showed you two kissing.”

“She gave me a peck on the cheek, Betty,” Jim said, his cheeks reddening.

“Ya, lover boy, and then she ran back to plant one on those pretty lips of yours, you rascal,” his cousin giggled.  “I remember the story you told me about the visit, and I saw the casts to prove it.  How did they get you on camera like that?  Anyway, it seems my Kentucky Bourbon helped mend some fences between the Indians and the white people, if I recall.”

“Betty, you have some imagination, and not always the full understanding of things,” Jim smiled and shook his head.

“I know what I know, Jim,” Cousin Betty said.  “And I know you got an awful big smile when you told me about her, and you got an awful big pout when you talked about her leaving.”

“Yeah, well, she made an impression on me, I guess,” Jim said.  “What cast did you see her on?”

“A whole bunch of them,” Betty replied.  “Just ask and you’ll find a dozen sites.  I know you don’t trust just any cast.”

“With good reason,” Jim added.  “And what about the protests you were mentioning?  What’s all that about?”

“Oh, that’s horrible, Jim!” Betty lamented.  “You didn’t see any of this?”

Jim shook his head.

“Well, after those alien ships landed, a bunch of robots started going on board and collecting up human bodies.  I guess those people didn’t survive the trip.  So them robots carried off the bodies of the deceased and just dumped them on the ground outside of the ship.  I mean, it was awful!  How could they be so disrespectful like that!  Anyway, other people must have felt the same way about it, since nearly every site around the world has riots going on where people are expressing their anger.  And they should be!  It’s unbelievable the aliens think they can get away with how they’re treating us!”

“I think I need to check up on the world myself a bit now, Betty, and then I need to get to bed.  Tomorrow’s going to be another long day for me.” Jim said.  “I’m glad you called me, and really sorry again I didn’t answer you earlier.”

“Do you still have any of that replacement bourbon I sent you, cousin?” Betty asked.

“Yes,” Jim answered.  “I haven’t opened the seal on it yet.”

“Well, you might want to open it tonight.  There is a lot to take in,” his cousin said.

“I might just do that, Betty,” Jim said.  “Thanks again for the call.  And tell Hank I said hello.”

“I will, Sweetie,” Betty said.  “Take care of yourself, ya hear?”

“Thanks, I will,” Jim said.  “Take care of yourself as well.  Bye!”

Jim sat at the table looking at the blank commblock screen for a minute, taking another sip of beer.  He looked at the bottle in his hand, then at the cupboard, and then walked over to open the cupboard, pulled down the unopened bottle of Four Roses, and poured himself a tall glass of bourbon whiskey over ice.

Jim sat back down at the kitchen table, and watched two quick casts about the protests – one featuring Seneca and the other from the BBC about the global riots.  He then searched for ‘Seneca colonist walks into river’.

For the next three hours, Jim watched one cast after another featuring Luna or talking about the colonists on the ship from Seneca landing on the alien planet.  He sometimes paused the casts when they focused on Luna, trying to zoom in to see her face.  He found himself getting aroused when she walked out of the river with the wet tunic pressed against her body.  He was jealous and a bit concerned when all of the strangers came up to her afterwards and started touching her all over.  He was embarrassed all over again when a few of the casts had highlighted their farewell kiss as a way to try and extend the story of the colonist back to the start of her trip on Earth.  Mainly, he wanted to see Luna more than just the scene of her river experience, but the casts only showed that one event with her from Nova.  But he did learn about the live casts a few places were showing of each of the nine colonists’ sites.  Jim found the NASA site and watched that for another hour, switching between the three different cameras.  But Luna never appeared again, and the lack of action on the video and late night was catching up with Jim as he started nodding off.

Finally, well after midnight, Jim looked to see he had finished off a fourth of the Bourbon, and decided it was time to go to sleep.  

Just as Jim started falling asleep, Marv started making noises.  They were half barks at first, like if he wasn’t sure something was a shadow or part of a sound he didn’t recognize.  Jim ignored them.  Then, Marv gave a few barks.

“Quiet, Marv!” Jim commanded from his second floor bedroom.

Marv complied.

After a few minutes, however, Marv started barking, louder and faster.

Jim got out of bed, walked downstairs and came over to where Marv was standing at the living room window facing west.  The dog’s barks stopped when he saw his master next to him.  Jim looked to where the dog’s face was pointed.  The light from the fires near the alien launch site was visible, casting an eerie glow on the smoke rising.  Jim could detect the faint smell of smoke as well.

Jim scratched the dog’s ear.  “It’s OK, Marv.  The smoke isn’t that strong here, and I can’t see the fire, so we’re ok.  But thanks for the warning.”  He patted the dog on the head, and went back to bed.

But he couldn’t get back to sleep.

‘Why did I Iet her get on that ship,’ Jim thought to himself.

‘I couldn’t have stopped her if I tried.’

‘But if she knew the risks?  If she knew about her chances to die just on the trip there?’

‘She knew enough that nothing I would have said would have made a difference.’

‘So why didn’t I go with her?’

‘You know that wouldn’t have happened in a million years.  You’re too stuck to this land, to this ground, to this place.’

‘It’s not the same place any longer.  Some of it’s not even your land any longer.’

‘It is still my land!  No one bought it from me.  Nobody showed me a transfer deed.  But Mike did tell me I’ve lost my rights there.  What did he mean by that?’

‘I’m not sure what’s going on around here any more.  Luna looked so confident walking into that river.  So sure about what was happening.  And she looked so calm when she got out.  She looked, mmm, mighty fine when…’

Jim was under water, watching the sun filter through the wavelets on the surface.  He heard a splash and turned to see a foot that had stepped into the water.  The other foot followed, and someone was walking towards him.  But he could only see what was under water.  The person had on tan pants, the fabric almost like pajamas.  He could tell by the time the thighs and then hips were visible it was a woman.  She walked towards him and stopped once the water got to her chest.  Then she knelt down so she was completely submerged herself.

Luna!

Jim tried to talk, but couldn’t.  He was under water.

Luna smiled, slowly shook her head, the black hair flowing through the water around her ears, eyes and forehead.  She reached out a finger to his lips, telling him not to try to talk.

They floated closer to each other.

She reached out, took his hand, and put in on her breast, looking him in the eyes still smiling, and slowly nodded her head.

Jim pulled Luna to him and gave her a kiss.  They kissed passionately, moving with the motion of the water, Jim’s hands now moving freely over her neck, her back, her chest, her stomach, her bottom.

Luna pulled back, took Jim’s hand and stood up, pulling him up with her.

She walked towards the riverbank, clutching Jim’s hand.

They left the river, knelt on the soft grass, and began their kissing again.

Soon, they were laying on the ground, unable to stop their kissing, with Jim’s groin between her thighs.  And they began making love.

Then Jim felt something else.

Without stopping the kisses, he slightly turned his head and could see other people around him.  They were touching his back, his head, his legs, and they were doing the same to Luna.  She didn’t seem to notice or she didn’t care.  Jim decided he didn’t care either, and continued their lovemaking with the onlookers continuing to grasp at them.

Then Jim heard a ringing sound.  He tried to ignore that as well.  But the sound didn’t go away.

He turned when someone began talking.

It was his cousin, Betty.  “Falls City Grain Company,” she said in a non-accented Mid-West voice, not at all like her strong Kentucky accent.

“Falls City Grain Company,” she said, more clearly this time.

And Jim woke up.

He was in his bedroom.

“Falls City Grain Company,” the voice from the commblock on his bedside announced.

“Audio Answer,” Jim said groggily.

“Hello?  Mr. Kaufmann?” the man on the commblock screen said.

“Yes, that’s me,” Jim said, clearing his throat.

“OK, um, I apologize for bothering you in the middle of a busy day,” the man said.

Jim looked at the time on the commblock.  “9:45 AM”   He shot up in bed and looked again, not believing what he saw.

“This is Mac Sanders from Falls City Grain Company, and we saw there was a lot of, um, unrest in your neighborhood yesterday.” the man on the commblock said.

“Yeah, I’m fine.  That was closer over by Seneca itself.  I’m a few miles out of town.   But thanks for asking,” Jim said.

“Well, I’m relieved to hear that, Mr. Kaufmann,” Mac Sanders said.  “We’ve heard the sheriff and the governor have declared a state of emergency for Nemaha County for at least the next week.”

“Oh, okay,” Jim said without much concern in his voice.  “I didn’t know that.”

“Yes, and, um, all non-essential travel has been restricted,” the Falls City Grain employee continued.  “This includes travel from anyone outside of the county from entering.”

“Okay,” Jim said.  He was now out of bed, pulling on some work clothes for the day.

“Well, we won’t be able to provide service in case of any issues with the combine you’ve rented from us.  And, we won’t be able to send a truck to retrieve the combine,” Mac Sanders explained.

“Got it,” Jim replied.  “I’m pretty handy with the hammer, so I should be able to fix anything that might break.  And, as for the rental period, I could really use it for longer.  I’d like to extend the rental past Monday, in case the rain doesn’t show up.”

“Is the combine working well for you?” Mr. Sanders asked.

“Yeah, it’s been working great.  I was just joking about that hammer thing,” Jim said.

“That’s good to hear, about the combine that is.” the man from Nebraska said.  “That’s another reason why I called this morning, Mr. Kaufmann.  The management here at Falls City Grain has decided that because of the unrest near your farm, we’ll need to have the combine returned before Monday.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Jim said.  “I’m actually having a bit of trouble with my own combine, so your’s is the only one I’ve got in use at the moment.  Without it, I’d be totally out of commission.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Kaufmann, but the unusual circumstances have changed the situation and we’ll need the combine returned to us today.  Since we’re not allowed to send anyone to your farm, we’re asking you to drive it to Fairview.  We can pick it up at Fairview Mills,” Mac Sanders said.

Jim was sitting on the bench under his bedroom window, pulling on his boots.  He sat up when he heard these last instructions, walked over to the commblock, and pushed the ‘video’ button.

“Let me make sure I understood what you just said,” Jim said, looking at Mac Sanders who looked surprised to finally see someone on screen.  “You’re telling me that you want me to take half my day today to drive a combine that I’ve got the right to use for another two days ten miles from my farm so you can haul it away while I still need it?”

Mac Sanders paused, looking away from the screen for a moment.  “Yes, sir.  I’m afraid that’s correct.  Management here has decided there is too much risk in having the equipment that close to the alien elevator.”

“Well, they didn’t have an issue with it four days ago when they counter-signed the rental agreement,” Jim said.  “I don’t see what’s changed since then.  I’ve not moved my farm any closer to that damned thing.  And it hasn’t hopped over this way at all.”

“But the unrest yesterday…” the Falls City Grain employee started to say.

“I already told you, that’s miles from here.  The fields I’m combining aren’t anywhere near that area,” Jim said, getting agitated.

“Yes, but the management here…” Mac Sanders tried to say.

“What do I care what they think about what they see on whatever casts they are watching,” Jim interrupted.  “I told you things are good here.  You can see the diagnostics reported by your combine.  It’s in fine shape.  If your management doesn’t believe me, they can send someone over to check it out themselves.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Kauffman,” the caller explained, “since the state of emergency won’t allow us to enter Nemaha County.”

“Well, then, I guess you’ll have to take my word for it then,” Jim said.  “Look, I’ve got to get back out in the field.  I’ll call you on Monday to talk about extending the rental.  Until then, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your combine.”

Jim clicked the disconnect button ending the call, and Mac Sanders’ face left Jim’s commblock screen.

He finished getting dressed, quickly went downstairs, made some coffee, ate a quick breakfast of oatmeal, eggs and some pre-cooked mini-sausage links he didn’t even bother heating up, packed some lunch into a cooler along with some water, fed Marvin, and rushed out to his pickup.  He entered instructions into the pickup console to have it tag behind him, following his commblock signal, and then went to order a grain truck from NeKan Coop to meet him in the sorghum field he was in the previous evening.

“Due to circumstances beyond our control, we are closed for the remainder of the weekend.  We regret the inconvenience and recommend contacting Morrill Elevator or Home City Grain for immediate grain receipt.” was the message that appeared on the pickup console.

Jim had forgotten about this from the previous evening.  He tried ordering a grain truck from a dozen other elevators, without success.  Those elevators in Nemaha County had their grain truck fleets already fully scheduled for the day.  And those outside of the county could not have the trucks get to him due to the state of emergency.

“Dammit!” Jim finally cursed, pounding his fist on top of the pickup dashboard.

He looked westward, breathing hard.

Finally, he got out of his pickup and went into the barn where his own damaged grain truck was parked.

He spent the next hour knocking out the remaining shards from the windshield, cleaning out the broken glass from within the cab, taping some old tarp over the seat cushions, and checking out exactly what was and wasn’t working on the truck.

After all that was complete, he got back in the pickup to finish the vehicle synchronization, and then got in the combine to drive the lead vehicle of his mini-convoy out to the starting point for his day’s work.

On the way there, he checked his messages on the commblock.

“Block, read message from Megan Hinojosa.” Jim said.

“Message from Megan Hinojosa, 7:05 am, Saturday, 22 September” the computer voice said.  “Hello Mr. Kaufmann.  I was wondering if you’ll need my help today.  Just send me a message and let me know.”

“Block, call Megan Hinojosa,” Jim said, his shoulders relaxing a bit for the first time in the past two hours.

“Hello?” Megan answered.

“Good morning, Megan,” Jim said.  “How are you doing this morning?  Did you get any rest last night?”

“Not much, to be honest, Mr. Kaufmann,” the teenage girl answered.  “How about you?”

“Well, not at first, but I really overslept once I did knock off,” Jim replied.  “How are your parents?  What time did your Dad get back last night?”

“I think after 2 am.  He had to wait until the National Guard got situated, he said this morning.  I got to talk to him real quick before he left.  I guess he’s got to work again all day today,” Megan said. “He’s fine, but his uniform was a mess when he got home.  Mom said it’s ruined, I guess.  How is the combine and the grain truck?”

“Hey, thanks again, Megan, for locking the controls on the combine.  Did you see what those crazies did to that FarmSure unit?” Jim said.

“Yeah, that was crazy.  I was hoping they didn’t try anything like that with your equipment,” she said.

“Well, they couldn’t take it anywhere,” Jim said.  “But they did get a bit upset and cracked a few windows.”

“Oh, I’m really sorry to hear that, Mr. Kaufmann,” his sometime employee said sincerely.

“Yeah, me too.  So since I’m down to one combine, I should be able to handle things today.  I told you I needed you this weekend, so I’ll pay you for the hours I had you set aside,” the farmer said.

“No, that’s not necessary,” Megan said.  “It sounds like you’ll have some expenses to deal with, so you’ll need the money.  Anyway, I’m kind of glad you won’t need me, since I’d rather stick around here with Mom today.  She’s really nervous with Dad back out.  His cruiser was trashed last night as well, so he had to take our pickup today.  He and Mom argued about that, since she didn’t want him going out and then she told him our insurance wouldn’t cover it if the pickup got trashed like his cruiser.”

“Megan, you amaze me at how put together you are,” Jim said.

Megan’s face reddened at hearing this.

“Please stay put and stay safe,” Jim continued.  “If I can do anything for you and your Mom, let me know.  Do you need any food or anything?”

Megan shook her head.  “No, thanks.  You know Dad.  He reminded me about the extra supplies he’s got stored in the tornado shelter.”

“Yeah, well, he’s got a good head on his shoulders too,” Jim shared.  “Take care of your Mom, Megan.  And, please, call me if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Mr. Kaufmann.  Take care of yourself too.” the girl replied and ended the call.

Jim was able to finish harvesting the field he had started the previous afternoon.  The grain taken off the field barely fit in the grain truck, which Jim was thankful for.

The next challenge was finding an elevator that had a floor lift, since the hydraulic controls in his truck had been broken by the rioters.  On top of that, the elevator had to be within Nemaha County since the state of emergency wouldn’t let his truck back across the county line if it left. There were two elevators, both on the other side of the county, so it was going to be an hour round-trip plus whatever time the truck had to wait in line to dump the grain.

Jim sent the truck on its way, and drove the combine to the next field.  He made a few rounds in the field before filling up the combine hopper.  Due to his late start, it was already noon, so he ate his lunch and watched some casts on his pickup console waiting for the grain truck to return so he could empty the combine hopper and continue harvesting.

The day went exceedingly slow, since he had to repeat the process of waiting for the return of the grain truck two more times that day.  He barely got 100 acres harvested by the time the elevator closed that evening.

That evening, he learned that the transfer of colonists would be halted for the next seven days in all five sites in the United States while Congress had emergency hearings on the situation.

Jim’s commblock had gotten a few messages from casters who had tracked him down again after Luna had been identified in the river video from Nova, and they then traced her back to the farewell kiss video from four months earlier.  In that sense, Jim was glad the roads into the county had been shut down as he was sure he would have had to chase off some casters showing up in their transpods at his house wanting an interview.

That night, his strange dreams combining the local drama and extraterrestrial images were less vivid but nonetheless off-putting for Jim.  Still, he was able to get some sleep and woke early on Sunday.

“No church today, Marv,” he said to the dog while giving it the morning food bowl.  “But don’t you worry, old boy.  I’ll be saying plenty of prayers in that combine today.”

Jim went to the first of two remaining sorghum fields he needed to finish, and got to work.

At 9:00 am, Jim’s commblock sounded, identifying the caller as “Falls City Grain Company”.

“Hello,” Jim answered.

“Hello, Mr. Kaufmann,” the woman on the screen said.  “This is Lori Jackson, Manager of Grain Transport Services for Falls City Grain Company.”

“Good morning, Ms. Jackson,” Jim said politely but directly.

“Mr. Kaufmann, I believe you got a call from my associate, Mac Sanders yesterday,” Lori Jackson said.

Jim nodded, focused on the field and not looking into the screen at his caller.

“I also believe he explained that due to the state of emergency, we need to have you return our equipment before Monday,” she continued.

“He did,” Jim agreed.

“So I’m calling to remind you that you’ll need to drive the combine to Fairview Mills this morning.  We’ve arranged to have a transpod already in the county return you to your farm,” the Falls City Grain Company supervisor explained calmly.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Jim said.  “I signed the agreement for the rental, and it wouldn’t surprise me if your signature is also on that agreement, Ms. Jackson.  I’ve got the right to use the combine through tomorrow at 5 pm.  Until then, I’ll ask that you let me focus on completing my work so I can make the most of the up-front rental payment I’ve given you for this fine piece of equipment.”

And having said that, Jim hit the disconnect button on the commblock.

The smirk he had on his face after the call disappeared ten minutes later when the combine stopped.  Nothing he tried was able to restart the combine.  After running a few diagnostics, he finally got the message “Unit remotely shutdown.  Authorization code from control center needed for restart.” to appear on the combine console.

“Dammit!,” Jim hissed.

“Block, call Falls City Grain Company,” Jim loudly commanded his commblock.

“Falls City Grain Company,” the person on the screen answered.  “How may I direct your call?”

“Lori Jackson please,” Jim said, forcing the courtesy.

“This is Lori,” the supervisor said as she came on the screen.  “Ah!  Hello Mr. Kaufmann.”

“What sort of tricks are you pulling,” Jim said, not attempting any courteous tones.  “I’ve paid for another day and a half to use this combine.  So turn it back on!”

“I told you that the state of emergency has changed the situation,” Lori Jackson started explaining.

“There’s nothing in the agreement about a state of emergency,” Jim said angrily.  “It was a one page, three paragraph statement that said I could only use it on my farm, which I am, and no one else could drive it, which they aren’t, that I’d pay you ahead of time, which I did, and that I’d have it ready for you to pick up by tomorrow at 5 pm.  So turn on the God damn combine so I can finish my work!”

Lori Jackson, Manager of Grain Transport Services for Falls City Grain Company, looked at Jim on the screen and, without a word, reached for her screen, disconnecting the call.

“Son of a bitch!” Jim shouted at no one in particular.

He looked in the grain hopper and saw it was half full.  He touched the hopper control screen, and that still functioned, so he pulled the grain truck over, unloaded the grain, tried one more time to start the combine, and then finally climbed out of the combine, slamming the cabin door shut on his way out.

He got in his pickup, sent the partially filled grain truck to the distant elevator, and drove home, after only having harvested thirty acres of the one-hundred sixty he had hoped to finish that day.

Jim spent the next three hours trying to swap out screens from other farm equipment he had to get his combine in functioning order, but he didn’t have enough units with the necessary connections or the correct size.

Jim then contacted the farm equipment dealership in Powhatan.  Even though it was Sunday, he was still able to get a live person online.  But after fifteen minutes trying to sort out what was needed, the dealership employee told Jim he’d have to bring in the combine since the damage sounded too extensive to be fixed at the farm.  Jim disagreed, but wasn’t able to get any different results, even after arguing with the parts manager.

Upon ending that call, Jim took the control board he had in his hand while talking to the dealership and flung it across the barn, hearing it crash against the wall.  He stormed outside, looked west at the gathering clouds and shouted louder than at any point in the past few days, “SON OF A BITCH!”

He looked around, saw his dog crouched next to the barn door, and shouted, “Marv!  Come here!  We’re going to take a look at the corn fields.”

Jim started walking to the pickup.  The dog slowly stood but didn’t move from his spot.  Jim opened the door on the pickup, looked back, and commanded, “Marv!  Come!”  The dog cautiously approached his master.

“Get in,” Jim commanded once the dog got there.

Marv hopped into the vehicle and slunk to the far side of the bench seat, keeping his eyes on  the person in the vehicle with him instead placing his paws on the dash and looking out the front window like he normally did.

Jim manually drove the pickup towards his west fields.  He got no more than one mile before the road was blocked.  But this time, not by out of town transpods, but by Kansas National Guard troop transports.  Jim slowly approached as a uniformed and armed Guardsman walked towards his pickup.

“I’m sorry sir, but no vehicles are allowed past this point,” the serious looking soldier said.

“My farm is on the other side,” Jim explained.  “I need to check on the crops so I can get a harvester in there.”

“No exceptions, sir,” the Guardsman said.

“Look, this grain harvest is essential business, according to what I’m hearing,” Jim said.  “Governor Lepetomane said we need to keep the grain flowing to avoid any food scares.”

“I’m sorry, sir, no exceptions.  Now if you’ll please turn around and head back, that would be best,” the soldier said.

“This is ridiculous,” Jim said as he started opening the door.

“Don’t get out of the vehicle,” the now nervous Guardsman said, pulling his rifle up to aim towards Jim.

“Ok,” Jim said, putting his hands up.  “Hang on there, I get it.  You’ve got your orders.  Let me get in touch with the sheriff.  He’ll explain things.”

Jim closed the door.  “Ford, call Mike McAllister.”

His friend answered after a number of rings.  “Yes, Jim?”  A Kansas State Patrol officer and two of his deputies could be seen on the console screen behind the sheriff.

“Hey, Mike,” Jim said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.  “I’m out here on 128 trying to get to my fields and the National Guard has their roadblock set up.  Can you let them know it’s OK for me to get by so I can see how the crops are doing?”

“For Christ’s sake, Kaufmann!  Give it a rest!  Go home,” the Nemaha County Sheriff said.  “They aren’t going to let you pass, and I’m not going to tell them to let you pass.  Besides, they’ve got orders from the Governor who, last time I checked, has authority over what I say.”

“Mike, I haven’t been over there in person since Friday, and I need to make plans…” Jim started saying.

“Stop, Jim!” The sheriff said, sounding increasingly upset.  “Stop bothering me!  Go home and stop causing problems!”

They both looked at each other for a moment, then Jim touched the console screen, ending the call.

Jim put his truck in reverse, turned around at the intersection just in front of the roadblock, and  sped back home, his hands gripping the wheel as if he was about to be picked up by a tornado.

“Bothering him?” Jim blurted out.

Marv tried to shrink further into his side of the pickup.

“How is it that asking for him to do his job is a bother? I pay my taxes just like anyone else in the county, so I’m paying his salary as much as everyone else,” Jim explained to no one in particular.  “I’ve got property that he has sworn to protect, just like everyone else’s.  So why is it a bother when I ask him to do his job?  Do I need to have blood on my face to get his attention?  Do I need to send him images of my fields on fire to show I’m deserving of his time?”

The tires on the pickup squealed as he turned the corner with too much speed.

“He’s got a few out-of-town trouble-makers to throw in jail, and a stolen property report to file for Harvey’s combine.  It’s not his livelihood that is being literally stomped out by outsiders.  It’s not his land being taken over foot by foot, acre by acre.  It’s not his rights being trampled on and flattened!”

He turned the pickup into his driveway so sharply that the back end fishtailed off the stones and tore up some of the grass in the front yard.

Jim finally turned to Marv.  “So I guess I’ll handle it myself and not bother him anymore!”

The pickup skidded to a halt, throwing stones forward and Marv to the footwell of the passenger seat.

Jim threw the door of the pickup open, and stomped over to his barn.

Marv gingerly looked out of the pickup, and hopped out of the open door.

He started towards the barn, and then jumped back when Jim came barrelling out of the barn door on his all-terrain pod.

Jim guided the small pod across the road and over the farmland in a direct line towards his western-most fields.  He got to within a quarter-mile of the field that Megan was headed towards two days back when he saw two other objects, painted with the Kansas National Guard Emergency Response colors, converging on him from his left and right.

The two Guard vehicles caught up with him before he got to the edge of the field and got in front of him, decreasing speed so Jim would have to slow down.  Instead, Jim went to the left, attempting to go around them.  Both vehicles were able to stay in front, and Jim opted not to try and outmaneuver them.

The drivers of the other vehicles were motioning for Jim to stop.  Instead, Jim tried turning around to return home.  By that point, another two Guard vehicles arrived on the scene, and blocked Jim’s retreat.  He landed the ATT, letting it rest on the ground, while he stayed inside.  

Two of the guardsmen in the first vehicle to land did get out, with their rifles drawn.  “Get out of the vehicle!  Now!” they shouted.

They were as nervous as the one Jim had encountered on Road 128.

Jim stepped out, hands showing empty contents.  “I’m just trying to get to my fields!” he said with a tired frustration in his voice.

“Step away from the vehicle,” one of the Guardsmen said.

Two other Guardsmen exited their vehicle.  One was the person he encountered on the road.  “You again?” he said.

“Yes, me again,” said Jim.  “I have every right to be here.  This is my field that you’re standing in now, so you’re on my property.”

“Our order is that no one is allowed to get within a mile of the alien site.” the Guardsman explained.  “It doesn’t matter who they are, where they are found, or whose property they are on.  No one is allowed to get within a mile.”

“God dammit!  Why aren’t you hearing what you are saying?  You’re telling me to go home, but this is my home!” Jim argued.

One of the Guardsmen behind Jim walked over to the ATT and disabled the vehicle with a mini-EMP unit.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jim shouted.

“You can leave here on your own and return to your home or we can take you into the county jail.  Your choice,” the lead Guardsman said.

“You’re joking!” Jim said incredulously.

None of the National Guard soldiers smiled nor responded.  Instead, they kept their weapons at the ready, aimed at the ground in front of Jim.

“Fine!” Jim said angrily.  “I’ll leave.  Just reset the power in my ATT and I’ll go home.”

“I’m afraid we can’t do that,” the Guardsman said.

“Well, then drop me off at my house,” Jim said.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that either,” the Guardsman replied.

“Then how am I supposed to get home?” Jim asked.

Again, none of the National Guard soldiers responded.

“I can’t believe this!  I can’t even begin to imagine this is really happening!” Jim said.

Then after a few more seconds, he shook his head, turned around and began trudging across the field towards his home.

It was dark by the time he got close enough for Marv to notice a body walking down the road.  The dog started barking fiercely until he noticed who it was.  Then he ran to greet Jim, jumping and putting his front paws on his master’s chest.

Jim was in no mood to return the love.

That night, the clouds thickened, and by morning the rain had started.  But Jim wasn’t going to be kept down.  At first light, he went back out to his barn, brought out a field drone, and set it aloft.  He returned to his pickup, guiding the drone with the remote controls and watching the images it took on the pickup console.

The drone got close enough to show two of his fields with significant damage from vehicle and human traffic, but still around half the crop looked like it was able to be harvested.  He flew the drone closer to the corn field just across the road from the fenced off area indicating the alien launch site.  The images he saw showed trampled and burnt plants.  As he flew down closer, the images stopped.  His drone had been disabled.

Jim stomped through the growing puddles in his driveway and slammed the side door to his house closed after he entered.

Fifteen minutes, Jim’s commblock sounded.  The logo for the “Nemaha County Sheriff” appeared on the screen.

Jim didn’t answer.

“Please leave a message,” the commblock recorded message said.

“Jim, this is Mike,” the voice of the caller said.  “I don’t know whether to worry about you or to curse you out.  You’ve now got the attention of the National Guard Colonel who is asking that I have my deputies escort you out of the county.  I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but…”

Jim clicked the ‘Answer’ button on the commblock.

“I’m not trying to prove anything,” Jim said to Mike’s image that appeared on the screen.  “I’m just trying to exercise my rights as a landowner.”

“I get it, Jim,” Mike said.  “I get it that you’re fed up with all these people.  I’m sorry I yelled at you yesterday.  I know you’ve got probably a million dollars in damages staring you in the face.  But that can’t be an excuse for you acting like this.”

“It’s my land, Mike” Jim said with a quiver in his voice.

“It’s off limits, Jim,” the Sheriff said.  “All that ground you’re trying to get to has been declared no-man’s land at this point.”

“By who?” the farmer asked.

“The State asked for a writ of eminent domain on Saturday.  Judge Gebhart approved it yesterday,” Mike shared.

“They can’t do that,” Jim said, getting excited again.  “They have no rights to take over those fields.”

“I’m afraid they do, Jim,” his friend said.  “Now, please, calm down.  I promise I’ll come by later today and we’ll take a complete report of the damages.  Amy agreed to help you contact your crop insurance agent, the State Farm Services office, even the FSA to help get you compensation for all that’s happened.”

“It’s not about the money, Mike.  It’s the rights of ownership,” Jim shared.  “This will be a Bicentennial Farm in twenty-three years.  I plan to farm it and hang the sign on my barn proudly at that point.  But that’s not going to happen if people keep tearing it away from me, acre by acre.  I’m going to call Charlie and have him reverse his decision.”

“Jim, please, don’t make things worse,” Mike started.

“It’s what I’ve got to do, Mike” the landowner said, and hung up the call.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at his table, telling his commblock, “Block, call Nemaha County District Magistrate Judge.”

“Good morning, Judge Gebhart’s office.  How may I help you?” a friendly voice answered with the Nemaha County logo on the screen.

“Hello, Dolores.  Jim Kaufmann here.  Is Charlie in this morning?”, Jim asked.

A female’s face appeared on the screen, “Well, hey, Jim!  What a crazy weekend, huh?  Are you alright out there?  I know your place is close to where all those rioters were gathering.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” Jim said, taking a sip of his coffee.  “However, they did a number on a couple of my fields across the road from that alien elevator.  I wanted to talk to Charlie about that.”

“Well, if you want to file charges, you’ll probably want to get a hold of Mike,” the clerk said.

“No, not quite that.  I’d like Charlie’s unofficial opinion about jurisdiction.  It won’t take long, as I’m sure people are queueing up to see him after this past weekend,” Jim responded.

“Alright, let me see if he’s got a minute,” Dolores said.  “Hey, it’s good to see you all in good shape, Jim!”

The county logo returned while Jim waited.

After thirty seconds, a man’s face came on the screen.  “Hello, Jim.  I figured I might hear from you.  I appreciate you waiting until Monday before calling me.”

“Oh, I didn’t wait,” Jim said, setting the coffee cup on the table.  “I called you as soon as I found out what papers you signed this weekend.  Mike just told me you gave my farm to the State of Kansas.”

“Well, it’s not quite like that,” the County Magistrate Judge said.  “I got a call from the Governor,  as well as from Judge Kungl, letting me know there was no way they were going to allow the situation to get more out of hand.  Governor Lepetomane signed an executive order expanding the state ownership of ground around the alien site.  And Judge Kungle pushed through an emergency decision from the State Supreme Court.  She called Judge O’Connor, Judge Naismith and Judge Dawson to get the necessary signatures to approve the executive order.”

“You said ‘expand’ the state ownership, Charlie.  What did you mean by ‘expand’?” Jim asked.

“They went beyond the original 640 acres that had been declared eminent domain in July,” Charlie explained.

“Which 640 acres?” Jim further enquired.

“Oh, come on, Jim, stop being cute,” the Judge said.

“Which 640 acres?” Jim repeated.

“The ones right around the alien landing site, Jim, on the west side of Goff-Oneida and Road 144,” Judge Charlie Gebhart said.

“Including my 320 acres?” Jim continued.

“Well, hell yes, Jim.  The damn alien ship landed smack in the middle of your field, didn’t it?” the Judge questioned.

“So you gave away a fifth of my farm this summer, and now you’re signing off on another slice?  When were you going to bother to tell me, Charlie?” Jim said with clear agitation in his voice.

“A notice was sent out to you a week before I signed the order in July,” the Judge said.  “I asked Jenny if it was sent, and she assured me she signed the notice herself.”

“I remember getting a generic letter about contacting the Recorder’s office,” Jim said, “but when I called them, they didn’t know what I was talking about and said the regular assessments would be coming out in October.”

“Well, that’s what the letter was about.  I can’t help it that Jenny didn’t make it clearer, Jim, but she was supposed to tell you the acreage had been seized as eminent domain by the State.”

“She didn’t tell me then and you didn’t tell me this time,” Jim said.  “From what I recall, a landowner has to be notified before the ground is seized.  So I guess that’s all null and void since no one notified me.”

“Oh, come on, Jim, it doesn’t work like that,” the Judge said, getting upset himself now.  “You were sent the notice this summer.  If you didn’t understand it, that’s not my fault.  Get your head out of the sand, and see what’s going on.  Or perhaps you’re too busy staring up at the stars waiting for your girlfriend to come back on one of those alien ships.”

“You can’t take my property away without due process!” Jim shouted.

“It’s not your property any more, Kaufmann!” the Judge shouted back.

“Keep it up, Jim, and I’ll be tempted to go along with what the Governor first wanted to do,” Judge Gebhart continued.  “He threatened to kick everyone out of their homes within four miles of that elevator.  That would include your house now, wouldn’t it!  But maybe it’s time for you to learn about who’s got the say around here, and maybe I’ll have to sign that order as well!”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when someone tries to remove me from my house, Charlie.  You better be careful what you put your signature on, since I take my property rights and my Second Amendment rights pretty seriously,” Jim threatened.

“What are you saying?” the Judge said.

“You heard me!  Sign those papers and you might as well sign your own death certificate!” Jim shouted and hung up on the call.

He was breathing hard and began pacing around his kitchen.  He walked to the door to go outside, but the rain had picked up in intensity, so Jim had to continue his nervous pacing inside the house, waiting for what would happen next.

After fifteen minutes, his commblock rang again.  Jim walked over to the kitchen table to see who it was.  “Nemaha County Sheriff”

Jim hesitated, then answered.  “Hello?”

“Unbelievable, Jim,” Sheriff Mike said, looking at his friend through the commblock screen.  “Totally, completely, unbelievable.  This is you, correct?”

The Sheriff replayed a recording of Jim’s conversation with Judge Gephardt.

“You heard me!  Sign those papers and you might as well sign your own death certificate!”

Jim paused.  “Yes, I said that, but I didn’t really mean it,” he said.  “I got carried away.   I’ll call Charlie back and apologize.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Jimmy Boy,” Mike said.  “You should know better than to threaten a judge, especially Charlie Gephardt.   He wrote up an arrest warrant right after you talked to him and then he called me to have someone come over to first pick up the warrant and then pick you up.”

“He what?!” Jim said, his excitement level increasing again.  “After he signed away my property without even talking to me about it?  Does he think he’ll get me off this farm by signing another piece of paper to haul me off to jail?  He’s crazy!”

“He’s crazy?” Mike asked his friend.  “He’s not the one trying to run through roadblocks and sneak past security perimeters.  He’s not the one asking favors from the judicial system and then threatening people when he doesn’t get his way.  Jim, you’ve gone too far.  I can’t cover for you anymore.  Something has to change, it has to be now, and if that requires you to cool off at the County Detention Center for a couple of days, then that’s what has to happen.”

“Don’t do it, Mike,” Jim said.  “Don’t send anyone over here with an arrest warrant.”

“Or what?”, the Nemaha County Sheriff asked.  “Are you going to threaten me as well?”

“Just don’t send anyone over here, Mike.” Jim pleaded.  “You know I’m not leaving here.”

“You’ve got about ten minutes to calm down, Jim,” Mike said.  “This can all get worked out, but only if you calm down and cooperate.  I’ve gotta go.  I need to get on another call with the Governor.”

And Sheriff Mike ended the call.

Jim looked up from his commblock to glance out the window.  When he didn’t see anyone pulling into his driveway, he started pacing again.

“Who’s crazy?” Jim said to himself.

“Who’s crazy?” he said, looking at Marv.

Marv looked up from the bowl from which he was drinking, water dripping from his lower jaw, not sure what his master was saying to him.

“I’ll tell you who’s crazy,” Jim answered himself.  “Anyone who thinks I’m leaving here without putting up a fight!”

A loud clap sounded at the same time as lightning flashed outside, making both man and beast jump in the warm and dry kitchen.

Jim looked outside and saw headlights appear in his driveway.  The combination of heavy cloud cover and pouring rain made it seem like ten minutes past sunset instead of 10:00 am in the morning.

“I am NOT leaving here without a fight!” Jim repeated, and walked to the gun cabinet, unlocked it and pulled out his shotgun.

Marv’s ears perked up, both from the activity inside the house as well as noticing the vehicle in the driveway.

Jim walked to the door and pulled it open.  “Who is it?” he shouted through the rain, the shotgun lowered at his side.

Marv started barking, seeing the possible intruder and sensing Jim’s tension.

“Jim – it’s Joe, ” the Deputy said.  “Joe Hinojosa.  What’s going on, Jim?  Mike sent me over here with an arrest warrant for you.”

“Don’t bother coming any closer, Joe.” Mike said, taking one step out of the doorway and bringing the shotgun up.

The dog’s barking got louder and faster.

“Whoa!  Jim!  Put that down!” The Deputy said, taking a step back and raising his hands.  “Talk to me and help me understand what’s going on.  Mike didn’t explain anything in detail except to go over to Judge Gephardt and pick this up.  When I read it that it had your name on it, I asked the Judge what this is for and he told me to stop asking questions and go do my job.”

Joe took a tentative step towards Jim’s house.

“I said don’t come any closer,” Jim said, pump-loading the shotgun.  “If you’re doing whatever Charlie wants, then you’re not welcome at my place.  Just get off my property now!”  And having said that, Jim brought the gun up to aim at the Deputy.

Marv’s barking turned to a snarl, and he raced past his master, out into the rain towards the deputy.

Joe brought his hands down to reach for his gun, but the dog was too quick.

Before the Deputy could pull his gun from the holster, Marv had made it to the soaking wet peace officer, turned around, and began barking fiercely back towards Jim, the dog’s body firmly planted between the two armed men.

The farmer and the deputy both looked at the dog, slightly confused at the situation.

“Marv!  Come here!,” Jim shouted, with the rain running down his face.

Marv kept barking loudly, hopping up on his hind legs, but not moving from between the two, and not leaving the Deputy unprotected.

Jim lowered the shotgun slightly when he took one hand off the barrel to wipe the water from his face.  He put the hand back on the barrel, but didn’t fully raise the gun back up.  Jim continued staring at the barking dog, and the Deputy with his hand now poised next to his pistol.

The farmer lowered the rifle barrel.  Jim gazed at the shotgun in his hand, as if trying to figure out how it got there.  Finally, he uncocked the firing mechanism, dumped the shells on the ground, tossed the empty shotgun to the side, and looked up at the Deputy.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” he said, not loud enough for the police officer to hear through the storm, but the Deputy could read his lips.

Jim turned around and walked back into his house, leaving the door open to the storm.

He sat down at the kitchen table, dripping water on the floor.  “Block, send message to Mike McAllister.”

“Begin message,” the commblock said.

“Mike, it’s Jim.  It’s over,” Jim dictated to the commblock.  “I’m leaving the house, leaving the farm, and leaving the county.  If you’ll allow me, I’ll be out of here in two hours.  If you have Joe bring me in, I’ll still leave once I’m released, so I think you’d be doing everyone a favor by letting me leave now.”

“I’m not sure when, or even if, I’ll be coming back here.  I just know it won’t be anytime this Fall.  All I ask is that if it looks like the rioters are going to squat in this place, or the aliens are going to expand their area of control, torch the house.  Burn it down, blow it up, do whatever.  But nobody from outside of Nemaha County needs to get their hands on this place.”

“I’m sorry for being an asshole lately.  I apologize to you, Amy, Joe, Maria, Megan, and everyone else I’ve talked to since Spring.  Everyone but Charlie.  Anyway, I’m going to pack up a few things and be out of here soon.  I appreciate one last favor in letting me leave, even though I don’t deserve the dignity.”

Jim listened to the message.

“Block, send,” he said once it finished playing.

Jim then went about his departure preparations.  He changed into some dry clothes, and packed other clothes into a large suitcase.  It had been a high-school graduation gift from his parents for some extensive travel they hoped he could take, but had never used until this day.

He went down to the basement, found a storage container labeled “Christmas”, and emptied the contents into as neat a pile as possible next to the shelf he pulled it from.  He then walked around the house and filled it three-quarters full of portable items, including some family photos, the legal copy of the deed for the farm, the leash and lead he had for Marv (which he couldn’t remember the last time he had used), and his First Baseman’s glove from high-school.

Marv nervously followed Jim around the house, letting out a few soft whines every now and then.  Jim also felt nervous, looking at the open door when he would pass by, or waiting to hear Joe’s voice or his commblock sound.  But neither Joe nor a call on his commblock appeared.  The only sound was the lessening noise of the storm as the rain eased outside.

After making a second pass through the house, and gathering Marv’s food and snacks into another storage container he pulled up from the basement, Jim sat at the kitchen table with his home console and went through numerous activities on the computer, occasionally typing or reading a message on his commblock.  After a half-hour of work, he went to the printer to pull off a single document, signed, folded and placed it in an envelope, and wrote a name on the front.  He then packed the home console in with his photos and papers.

Jim returned to the front door, put on his jacket and ball cap, and looked back into the room.  He snapped his fingers, went to the liquor cabinet to retrieve the remaining Bourbon, and packed it in his ball glove.

The farmer looked outside and saw the Deputy Sheriff’s vehicle still parked in his driveway.  By this point, the rain had reduced to a drizzle.  Jim turned off the lights in the house and walked out, carrying his suitcase and the dog’s supplies.

Joe stepped out of the Deputy Sheriff vehicle and both men paused.

“Can I help you load up anything?” Joe offered.

The tension in Jim’s shoulders released.  “Sure,” he said.  “There’s one other container inside the front door.”

“What else?” Joe asked.

“That’s it,” Jim responded.  “No sense in taking a bunch of stuff I won’t use.  But if you can grab that container, I’m going to get a few tools from the barn.”

Joe nodded and went to get the other box from the house, while Jim put the items he was carrying in the bed of the pickup and went to the barn.  When he returned with a medium-sized tool box in one hand, and a shovel and some rope in the other, Joe had already loaded the second container in the pickup bed.  Jim added his contents to the back of the pickup, and then opened the passenger door.

“Come on, Marv, let’s go,” he said.

The dog’s tail wagged happily and Marv jumped into the wheel well and then up on the seat, his front paws on the dash waiting in expectation.

Jim closed the passenger door, and walked around to the driver’s side, where Joe was standing.  He reached into his jacket pocket, which made the Deputy move his hand closer to his pistol.

“Don’t worry,”  Jim smiled sadly, handing over an envelope with “The Hinojosa Family” written on the front.  “Please don’t open this til I’m out of site.”

Jim looked around at the farmhouse, the barns and the fields, sighed heavily, got in the pickup and drove down the lane, leaving the Deputy in the driveway and his emptied shotgun still on the ground where he threw it.

 Deputy Hinojosa watched the pickup drive down the road, making sure it went the opposite direction of the roadblocks and alien elevator.  After it disappeared from site, Joe opened the envelope in his hand, and read the letter.

“Dear Joe and Maria,

“First let me apologize for everything I’ve put your family through lately, especially this past week.  I’m ashamed at how self-centered I was, and the harm I could have caused you.  The thought of what could have happened to Megan on Friday had those people gotten to her makes me sick to my stomach.  And what I did today, Joe, is unforgivable.

“I’m not asking for forgiveness.  And I know nothing can make up for how I’ve treated you.  Still, I want to recognize how I’ve acted, and attempt some small level of atonement.  There are still three of my fields that haven’t been harvested yet, 160 acres of sorghum and 80 acres of corn.  I’ve arranged for Jack Neace to take his combine through those fields after the rain has ended and finish harvesting the grain.  After the expenses for his equipment and time, and whatever else is needed to cover hauling the grain to the elevator, the remainder of the grain sales will be deposited into the same account I used to pay Megan for her work on the farm.  I know she wants to finish her Associate’s Degree this coming Spring, and I hope the funds from these fields will help cover those costs with a little left over as a graduation present.

“Again, I’m sorry for how I’ve treated you lately and am deeply ashamed of how I’ve acted.  I couldn’t leave here without at least acknowledging this.  I know how I act is my responsibility.  I surely wish those aliens had never arrived so we could have all just lived our lives as we wanted.

Sincerely,

Jim Kaufmann”

< Chapter 27 Chapter 29 >