Molly is sitting in her garden. She’s looking at the devastation after some wild pig got in there and rooted everything out. It’s like a state of shock. She worked so hard. Surveying the chaos, sitting cross-legged. Leaning forward. Nearly rocking back and forth.

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Things were going so well. She was relying on success, and felt she needed to get 30% of her family’s requirements from this year’s yield. She’ll be able to replant maybe half of it. The kids are at school, her husband is one of the lucky ones with a job. That’s where he is.

The first things she has to do is get the stuff back into the ground that she can. She can salvage some greens, probably, if she washes them well. There are some squash that made it through, and she’ll make use of the green tomatoes that were left.

She separates the re-plantable things, and rakes out the rest. Then she gets to replanting. As she’s turning up the soil, in the bare spots, she checks the fencing that she and her husband put up. They were so proud of it. They thought they had it handled. It looked hearty and well-made when it was all done. They covered the enclosure to protect it from birds, using wire mesh, as well. It seemed sound and formidable.

“It was all for naught.” She says, frustrated.

The frame of the fence was four by four wooden posts, with wire mesh wrapping the entire enclosure. Apparently, it wasn’t enough to keep a pig from pushing through at the end facing the back of their yard. She sees that there will have to be a solution for that.

When she finishes the cleanup, she goes into the garage and finds some salvaged wood. She gets the cordless circular saw and drill, and some screws. She’ll cut some pieces of wood, place them at the base of the posts to cover two and a half feet up the side of the mesh, to prevent a reoccurrence of pillage.

As she’s hauling these things out to the garden, she hears a noise and sees some brush rustling out back of the garage. She exits the enclosure to get a closer look. She sees the wild pig. She goes to the side door of the garage to get the rifle that is kept hanging inside, up high, above the door. She returns to the back of the garage.

“Hello Naught.”

The family will have meat. They will have sausage.

419 words.

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