Farmer Fred's Arc

Chapter 10 of 10

Fred counted the buildings each morning now. The greenhouse held three. The barn held two. The converted garage held one. Christopher's band practiced on the wooden platform, but they slept in the barn. Seven people total, and more would come. Fred knew it the way he knew storms. He walked to the wood pile behind the toolshed and stopped. Twelve logs remained, stacked against the back wall. He'd used everything else on the barn, the platform, the garage conversion. Twelve logs wouldn't build another barn. They wouldn't even build a proper room. Fred crouched and counted them again, as if the number might change. It didn't. He needed shelter for at least three more people, maybe five. But he had twelve logs. Fred started building anyway. He chose a spot near the fence line, far enough from the barn to be separate but close enough to share the path. He worked alone, cutting and fitting each log with care he hadn't used before. No waste. No extra cuts. By sunset he had four walls standing, rough and low, but solid. The roof took the last six logs and part of the fence he pulled down and re-cut. When he finished, the shed stood barely taller than his shoulders. One door. No windows. But it was shelter. Christopher walked over as Fred hammered the last board into place. He looked at the small wooden shed, then at Fred. "It's not much," Fred said. Christopher shook his head. "It's enough." Fred stepped back and studied what he'd built. The wood pile was gone. The fence had a gap. But Loud Garden had one more place for someone to sleep. He'd made something from almost nothing, and that would have to hold until the next storm brought more than just people.