Haylock
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46 - Flood
🕑 Added 2023-07-18 11:02:49 +0000 UTCI woke from a wonderful dream, one in which I was surrounded by a veritable sanctuary of animals.
My legs were inexplicably warm, and I opened sleepy eyes, glancing down toward them.
Corporal Claws slept atop my bed, letting out soft snores each time she inhaled.
I stretched my arms, doing my best to not move and wake the peaceful otter.
This proved a pointless gesture.
At seeing my raised arms, a crab leapt from out of sight, landing on my legs between the otter and I.
Snips stared at me, her body shaking with excitement at seeing me awake. We made eye contact, and she rushed me.
She hissed as a stream of bubbles flew from her mouth, and I pet her sturdy carapace with both hands.
“Good morning, Sni—”
A furred head darted beneath Snips’ carapace, chittering and rubbing up against my chin and face.
“G-good morning, Claws!” I said, laughing as the two fought to get closer to me.
They reached an unspoken agreement after a little jostling, Claws nuzzling one side of my face, Snips sidling up on the other, blowing joyous bubbles.
“You too, Snips! Did you guys sleep well?”
They both nodded, a storm of hisses and chirps ringing out.
“Happy Sunday, ladies!” I said, sitting up and arching my back. “Not that I know what Sunday entails...”
I stood, stretching my hands toward the roof and delighting in the feeling of sleep falling away.
“What do you say we go rustle up some brekkie?”
***
With one hand on a crab, the other on an otter, I sat and watched the sunrise to the east.
There was a red haze on the horizon, and as the sun crested higher, it painted the world an otherworldly color.
A deep red turned to a light pink as the sun went higher-and-higher, slowly banishing the haze beneath its warming light.
“This might be the most beautiful morning yet...”
A soft chirp and hiss answered.
“I’m going to help out Barry again in his field today. What do you ladies have planned?”
Snips and the otter looked at each other, the former blowing questioning bubbles, the latter making a chirp of assent.
I cocked my head, but before I could ask, Snips pointed toward the saltwater pond.
“Ah. More excavation?”
They both nodded, and I smiled.
It’s nice having friends so willing to help you create stuff...
“Alright,” I said, slowly standing. “Shall we go cook up these crabs? We’ll all need energy for today’s work!”
***
As I approached the fields after collecting a coffee and pastry, Barry, Maria, and Roger were already working.
I glanced toward where we’d fertilized the crops, and didn’t notice any difference; the sugarcane stalks there were still mostly hidden by the surrounding soil.
Duh. It’s not like they’d grow overnight, Fischer, you goose.
Each had a hoe or shovel and were digging furrows between the rows of sugarcane.
“Is this for that watering method you mentioned, Barry?” I asked.
He gave me a broad smile.
“Mornin’, Fischer! It certainly is!”
“Where are my manners?” I said. “Good morning, everyone!”
“Good morning, Fischer!” Maria beamed.
Roger nodded in greeting and returned to his hoeing.
“So, what can I do to help?” I asked.
Barry pointed to the side.
“There’s an extra shovel over there if you want to help digging!”
“More than happy to, mate!”
Following my neighbors’ example, I dug lines through the soil between the rows.
We made short work of our field, and when the last furrow was finished, Barry called me over.
“Do you want to help and see how it works, Fischer, or do you have somewhere to be?”
“Mate, I’m fueled by coffee and a fantasy croissant right now—you point me at a job, and I’ll smash it out.”
Barry laughed.
“I think I got about half of that, but I’ll show you what to do.”
Before following Barry, I turned to see Maria and Roger’s progress.
Maria smiled and waved, so I waved back, while Roger studiously ignored me.
“So,” Barry said, “we’ve dug the furrows between the rows, but now we need to dig a ditch connecting these fields and the well.”
“Oh, that’s what you meant by doing the watering with a well.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“What did you think I meant?”
“I, uh, kind of thought you’d dig up a well next to the field...?”
Barry stopped walking and turned to me. He made a confused expression before bursting into laughter.
“Hey! I’m a fisher, not a farmer, remember—don’t be surprised when I get things wrong.”
“I-I’m sorry,” he said between giggles. “It was just... unexpected, is all. Why did you think we were digging the furrows?”
“I don’t know, man—that we’d dig that well, then collect water from it and pour it in the furrows somehow?”
I tapped his forehead lightly.
“You’re the thinky one; I’m the doing one.”
He smiled and rubbed where I’d touched him.
“Alright, that’s fair—at least when it comes to farming, anyway.”
He led me on a path through the fields, and after not much walking, we arrived at a well behind Barry’s house.
It was the first time I’d seen their house, and I found myself entranced by its quaintness.
It was constructed of the same stone and mortar as in town, but unlike most houses, it had wooden detailing, lending it a much cozier feel.
“Love the house, mate.”
Barry turned to me, radiating contentment.
“Thank you. Helen and I put a lot of work into it; it’s our pride and joy. Well, Paul is our pride and joy, of course, but our home is a close second.”
“Speaking of Paul, where’s that little scamp been?”
“He’s been helping his mum and tending to our fields while we work on yours. Speaking of, we should get to it—Roger and Maria won’t take too much longer.”
Barry led me over to a stone well, and I peered down. It was deep, only a glint of light reflecting off the water’s surface around fifteen meters below.
“Barry...”
“Yes, Fischer?”
“That’s pretty far down…”
“Yeah, the water table is low here—it’s a real pain to pull so much water up with a bucket, but that’s the method.”
“That bucket...?”
I pointed at the bucket sitting atop the well’s wall—it looked like it could hold five liters.
Barry nodded.
I raised an eyebrow at him, looked at the bucket again, then back at Barry.
“Look—I know you’re the farmer here and I’m in over my head, but something tells me pulling five liters out at a time isn’t gonna...”
I trailed off as I noticed Barry’s lip twitching.
“You’re fuckin’ with me, aren’t ya?”
He burst into laughter, holding the well for support.
“Y-yes, Fischer,” he said, still laughing. “I’m fracking with you, whatever that means.”
I snorted at the butchered swearing.
Probably best to not correct him on that one…
“Man, you’re getting better at that, Barry; I almost didn’t see your lip twitching.”
“My lip twitched?” He grinned. “Thanks for the tip—I’ll work on it.”
I shook my head, smiling and rolling my eyes.
“Where do you keep the pump, Barry?”
He narrowed his eyes.
“How did you know it was a pump?”
“Unless you guys have some sort of water-magic shenanigans going on, a pump is the only thing I know of that would get enough liquid up from this well to water fields. Need me to help you grab it?”
“I got it,” he said. “Back in a moment.”
Barry returned with a cart on wheels, the pump atop it looking surprisingly sophisticated for the semi-medieval tech of this world. The body of the pump was well-crafted.
I eyed the long section of pipe attached; it seemed to be made of a brown, flexible plastic.
“What’s that made of, mate?”
“You’ve never seen plastic?” he asked, genuine confusion crossing his face.
I considered how to answer.
“I have,” I said after a moment. “The line I use is made of plastic, after all—I just haven’t seen it that color before. What’s it derived from?”
“Your plastic line would be made of the same material, as far as I know. They crush linseeds and refine the oil into this somehow.”
“Huh. Neat...”
He shot me a look, but then shook his head, dispelling his thoughts.
“Would you be happy working the pump?” he asked, pointing at the wooden lever atop the main body. “I’ll dig a trench and connect the fields.”
I nodded.
“Of course, mate—if you think you can dig faster than I can pump, that is...”
His eyes sparkled at the challenge, and without hesitation, he grabbed his hoe and started digging.
I walked over to the pump and turned the cart, facing the spout toward where Barry had begun his trench.
I untied the pipe, and unrolling it as I lifted, dropped it over the side of the well. It fell, unrolling as it went and dropping into the water below with a soft splash.
With a tentative pull, the lever of the pump came up; it was well oiled and made no noise or scrape.
I glanced to the side, saw Barry’s trench almost rounding the crops closest to his house, and with a competitive grin, started pumping.
Good luck outpacing the torrent coming your way, mate...
***
“Frack me!” Barry said to himself, trying to incorporate Fischer’s curse word.
He picked up the pace as he saw the flood approaching, spilling over the sides of his trench that he’d assumed to be deep-enough.
He had assumed wrong.
One step back at a time, he drove his hoe down into the ground and dragged it toward him, causing the earth to spill to either side.
If the water were to reach him before he connected the trenches, it could flood his other fields, potentially killing off swathes of established plants by over-watering.
Demeter’s sharpened sickle—challenging Fischer was a mistake.
Barry had thought it was a safe bet; the water would soak the surrounding earth of the trench as it went, and only when the ground was sodden would it continue traveling further toward the fields.
He didn’t account for just how much water a single pump could displace when someone with Fischer’s strength attacked it.
The water was gaining on him; Barry increased his pace again, working his entire body to dig as fast as he could.
He checked over his shoulder; he was almost at the new crops, but the water was almost on him.
“Just... a little... more!”
He yelled the last word, slamming the hoe into the ground and dragging it back as hard as he could.
His back foot fell in the lanes already dug into the crop, and relief suffused him.
The relief was short-lived, quickly replaced by discomfort. Just as he connected the trenches, the torrent of water hit him, spilling over his legs and throwing dirt and sand into his boots.
He stepped aside and watched the water hit the rows dug between the sugarcane stalks; it spread out evenly, the flood dissipating between the multiple lanes.
The sight of the water bringing life to the field washed away his annoyance, and he relished in the calm it brought him.
This calm, just as his earlier relief, was short-lived.
Maria and Roger hadn’t yet finished their field, and if the water in the first field had nowhere to go, Fischer’s flood would wash the stalks—and all their hard work—away.
Barry sprinted, his shoes making squelching noises as he ran to finish the rows and connect the two fields.
“What is that fool doing?” Roger demanded, sweat pouring from his brow.
“He challenged me to a race!” Barry answered, digging a deep trench between the two fields.
“I think he’s winning!” Maria said.
“Nope!” Despite the worry of all their work being swept away, Barry couldn’t help but grin. “I won!”
“If these stalks get washed away,” Roger said, “we all lose!”
“Best dig and stop talking then, Dad!”
Roger grunted, listening to the advice, but clearly not happy about it.
Barry connected the two fields and began digging another trench between the sugarcane stalks. A full third of the rows weren’t yet dug, and unless they could get them done before the water spread this way, the earth would need to be reshaped, the stalks replanted.
We might actually need to get more soil and start over if it gets too out of control...
Despite their best efforts, the torrent of water was overwhelming. It flooded the first field in less than a minute and began flowing down the trench Barry had dug.
They all continued digging as fast as they could; if they couldn’t curb the flooding entirely, at least they could minimize the damage.
The water reached Barry, once more flooding over his boots and filling them with sediment.
His fears had come to pass; the water started flowing up and over the sugarcane, carrying much-needed soil away with it.
Barry tried to focus on digging the trench, on minimizing the damage as much as possible, but as he saw the first stalk floating past on top of the water, his skin prickled with anxiety.
How many days will this set us back? Roger and Maria have no coin, and they need these crops to sustain themselves...
Barry’s eyebrows furrowed, and he paused in confusion as the water seemed to dissipate, soaking into the surrounding soil.
Had Roger and Maria managed to lead the water off somewhere?
He glanced at them, seeing them absolutely exhausted, but similarly confused.
A voice called out, and Barry breathed a sigh of relief.
“Did I win, Barry?”
