"Freedom Farm" Chapter 16

The animals assembled before dawn. Frost slicked every plank and stone. The sun caught in the orchard and did nothing to warm the yard. Sheep shivered in tight blocks, hooves sunk to the ankles in brown ice. The goats were herded forward with jabs of the Patriot Guards’ switches. The cows, hulking and dumb-eyed, formed a barricade at the rear, heads lowered as if bracing for some impact.

The porch steps gleamed with polish, their wood scrubbed so clean it reflected the orange of the farm’s new flag. Above them, Boss Rudd loomed, his fleece freshly combed and glowing in the first slice of morning. He stood with arms out, a scarecrow made of muscle and teeth. At his flanks, two Patriot Guards stood at parade rest, switches leveled, faces scrubbed and set.

Rudd waited until every animal faced him. He let the silence sink in, a chokehold on the yard, then raised both hooves.

“Security briefing!” he barked.

The yard hushed. Breath smoked from sheep and goat alike.

Rudd’s voice cracked the chill. “Last night, our sources confirmed: Chester Gilt is coming. He’s bringing outsiders. Legal, illegal, doesn’t matter. He wants North Star Farm.”

A ripple moved through the sheep, but none dared speak. Rudd scanned the yard, eyes like augers, and let his words drill.

“They want to take what you worked for. The hay, the trough, your lives. Chester doesn’t care about you. You know that. The only thing worse than a traitor…” he jerked his head at the barn, where the Seven Commandments glared in fresh paint “…is a traitor who pretends he’s family.”

A low bleat from the flock’s center, instantly silenced by a Guard’s glare.

Rudd paced the porch, each word coming sharp, short, like stones thrown at a window.

“This is an existential threat. The wall must hold. If it fails, we are done. Do you understand?”

Some sheep nodded. A few goats rolled their eyes, heads down. One of the cows snorted, just once, then went still again.

Rudd stopped at the porch edge, leaned in. “I alone will keep you safe,” he said. “You want to see your lambs next year, you listen to me. You want the trough full, you obey. Chester Gilt wants you weak and stupid. I want you strong.”

He let it hang, then sneered. “Any animal caught spreading doubt, caught sneaking food, caught talking to the so-called resistance…” he gestured at the barn, “…will answer to me. And to the wall.”

The Guards snapped their switches, the crack echoing off the silo.

The speech was over, but Rudd did not step back. He scanned every face, hunting for challenge. Only one or two dared meet his gaze.

From the rear, Bleatrix Spinn approached, her clipboard bristling with notes. She took position behind Rudd, eyes moving from yard to porch and back.

Rudd turned to the Guards. “Brief them on today’s security upgrades. Then commence the loyalty audit.”

The crowd groaned, almost inaudible.

On the periphery, Bruce and Frankie had already started to move.

They sidled along the fence, blending with a group of goats who cared nothing for loyalty, only for the prospect of the next meal. The twins communicated in glances and the tiniest tilts of their heads. When the Guards barked, Bruce joined the stampede for the trough, but kept his nose low, his ears sharper than ever.

Frankie peeled off at the edge of the tool shed, ducking behind a pile of rotted tarps. He waited, counting the seconds, then popped his head out and caught Bruce’s eye. Bruce made the “all clear” sign - an old trick from when they’d once broken into Chester’s feed room together, so many seasons ago. Frankie shot forward, sprinting the short gap to the irrigation control panel half-buried in caked straw.

It was a masterpiece of pre-revolt engineering: a rusted box with levers chewed by rodents, two colored dials, and a nest of wires patched by a goat with only the faintest clue of how anything worked. Frankie ran his tongue along the edge, searching for the hidden catch. He found it, popped the panel, and ducked out of sight as a Security ram stomped by.

Inside the panel, the instructions had long since dissolved in a soup of old water and grime, but Frankie had memorized them months ago. He nudged the blue dial left, the red right, then set his teeth on the main valve and turned it with a grunt.