Departure

by Ken Barrett

  After a few moments Liam heard scuffling at the edge of the crowd as the soldiers forced their way into the throng of refugees to pull Becky to the side of the street. “You bitch!” someone shouted. Then another voice further back in the crowd yelled, “You let them in and they killed our children!” The refugees surged toward her with angry hands reaching out; and a moment later Liam heard the hum of an energy weapon, then there were screams and the smell of burning flesh, and the angry voices became silent.

  *****

  Liam felt hopeless as he shuffled forward with the crowd. The commander had said that the Chancellor wanted workers, so individually none of them had any value. They were like wood for a fire, useful until they were burned to ashes, then easily discarded. Once they were beyond the gate Liam turned to look back at the city. Smoke and flame had consumed everything; their lives there were over and all they had worked to achieve was gone.

  A multistory hospital in the northern part of the city was on fire, he heard the popping of militia rifles, but the attempted defense was useless. Further east dust obscured most of the view, but he saw that all of the towering hydroponics buildings had collapsed. The food source that had once not only sustained Flatiron but fed others outside the city as well was lost.

  To the west stood the NOAA Solar Weather Observatory. The military had surrounded the rambling group of brick buildings, and Liam saw a line of people wearing white lab coats lying face down near the main entrance. The army had executed anyone that dared to disagree with their ideology and tactics.

  Back when he was still in Primary School, he had read that the climate change that had severely altered the planet’s weather patterns had first been largely attributed to the use of fossil fuels to produce energy. It wasn’t until all oil and gas production had been banned and the drilling and refining plants destroyed, that the truth had been discovered at the NOAA installation in Flatiron City.

  The Sun’s energy output had increased, and apparently it was a natural cycle. As was typical, well-meaning government regulations had made the problem worse. Alternate power sources provided only a tiny percentage of what was needed, and soon only the rich and influential could afford to stay warm in winter while the rest of the world was plunged into a shivering darkness. People living in the north were freezing, so they began to chop wood to produce heat. Forests disappeared, and the greenhouse gasses produced by their burning was far greater than what came from the use of fossil fuels.

  The planet warmed quickly, and the added heat of the Sun escalated the natural evaporation of the oceans. The environment of Colorado had once been one of cool summers and snowy winters, but with the new weather patterns the climate had changed to year around heat and near constant rain. Cities all along the east and west coasts of America were lost as the ocean levels rose. The Great Plains became a swamp and wetlands; the greatest farming region in the world was lost, and people starved.

  Food riots ensued, and the few great cities that remained fell into violence and in the end destroyed themselves. Civil war broke out, and after a long and bloody conflict the old US government collapsed and was replaced by the Socialist States of America. But the new leaders proved to be just as inept and corrupt as the old ones, and the fall of a once great civilization continued without pause.

  *****

  The crowd of captives slowly shuffled forward; they were so tightly packed that no one could take a long stride. Gradually the towering city wall receded behind them, and in the distance ahead Liam saw a massive flatbed truck blocking their path. It appeared that they would be forced into a fenced off muddy field to the west of the old Denver road.

  The water-soaked soil sucked at Liam’s boots as he entered the pen. A tall wire fence stretched around the perimeter, beyond it, spaced at even intervals, were guard towers made of preformed plasti-wood. The top of each tower was covered and protected from the elements and was manned by anonymous soldiers standing behind menacing laser weapons mounted on tripods. Every tower had a clear shot at anyone within the enclosure.

  The gate swung shut and was locked behind them; everyone was trapped and completely at the mercy of their captors. Liam looked around their prison and was troubled by the lack of provisions; there were no toilets, or stations for food or water, or even shelter from the rain. This was a place of torture; without provisions no one could stay alive within the pen for very long. The once free citizens of Flatiron were prisoners, escape seemed impossible and a slow and agonizing death awaited them all.

  Their group found a slightly elevated area near the back of the enclosure; it wasn’t a good place to stay, but it was dryer than the rest of the pen at least. It would have to do until either the army saw fit to set up proper facilities, or they all died. They laid their coats out on the ground, and then sat with the children they had taken from the university. Huddled together, they watched as dusk finally darkened into night.

  Hours later, another group of prisoners was led out through the city gates. Word of mouth spread like wildfire, informing everyone that it was what remained of the militia. The former protectors of Flatiron were led beyond their pen and into a separate enclosure to the south.

  Bob jumped up and ran to the edge of the pen, which caught the attention of the guards and they swung their guns toward him. He stopped before the guards fired, then jumped into the air and waved his arms. “Clare!” he shouted.

  A higher pitched voice answered his cries. In the darkness it was hard to be sure, but Liam thought he saw someone wave back.

  Chapter 7: Death Camp

  There used to be snow. Liam sat facing away from the corral entrance and stared up at the jagged Flatiron range to the west. He knew that once upon a time the snows of winter had not only blanketed the mountains but had covered the prairie to the east as well. It seemed almost too incredible to believe, like a fairy tale, but he had seen old pictures taken during that blissful before-time, so it had to be true.

  He had held snow in his hand once; it was when he was very young and still living with his parents and sister in Fort Collins. Their father had taken them to a refrigerated arboretum where snow sometimes fell. It was a marvel beyond description; the icy sphere crunched when he squeezed his hand, its coolness was like nothing he had ever experienced before. His little sister had laughed gleefully at first, but then cried when her palm began to ache from the cold.

  How he wished he could feel that coolness now. It was hot, the sky was the color of burnished steel, and the sucking mud of the day before had dried into something that resembled lumpy concrete. Like everyone else, he was thirsty and their captors still hadn’t seen fit to give them any water. Hopefully it would rain later that afternoon, if it didn’t, some of the weak and infirm among them would die.

  Bob and Roxi were lingering by the south side fence, hoping to catch sight of anyone they knew in the adjacent pen that held the militia captives. It was hard to distinguish faces though, because there was a space of about 20 meters between the enclosures. Occasionally Bob would jump and wave his arms around while calling his sister’s name.

  A guard in a nearby tower didn’t appreciate the racket. “Shaddup, or I’ll burn you into the fuckin’ ground,” he said.

  Bob paced relentlessly beside the fence, and Roxi walked at his side attempting to keep him calm. But his foster father’s friend and partner from the robotics lab refused to be soothed, and Liam didn’t like the direction things were taking. They all were entirely at the mercy of guards that had absolutely no regard for human life. It’s never a good idea to piss off someone that holds your life in their hands, especially if they don’t care if you live or die.

  Watching Bob put himself in danger was distressing, so Liam turned away and went back to staring at the mountains. After a few minutes passed, Rose and Denise came and sat down on either side of him. “Do you remember the time Father took us to see snow?” he asked his sister.

  “Yes, I do.” Rose smiled. “I remember that it was so cold that it hurt m
y hand.”

  Liam grinned. “You cried.”

  “Well it was scary. I’d never seen anything like it.”

  “Can you imagine the mountains covered with it?”

  “No… well maybe, but it’s awfully hard to do,” Rose answered.

  “It must have been beautiful,” Denise added.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, and cold.”

  Denise smiled as she leaned against him. “Yes, well we could use some of that snow today. It’s terribly hot.”

  He lay his arm over Denise’s shoulders and held her close. It was good to have these two incredible women in his life. “As bad as things are, at least we’re all together.”

  “What do you think they’re doing over there?” Denise asked, drawing his attention toward the militia pen to the south.

  Large trucks were dropping blocks of preformed plasti-wood into the open space between the two enclosures. They were shaped and notched such that they would fit together, and reminded him of Lincoln Logs, but on a gigantic scale. “I don’t know what those are,” he answered. “They look like the toy blocks Rose and I used to play with when we were little.”

  “I remember that.” Rose smiled. “I’d make little houses for my dolls, and you’d knock them all down. I used to get so angry at you.”

  He laughed softly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  “It’s ok big brother. You used to build such crazy things with those blocks… sideways and even upside-down houses, crazy twisted stuff sometimes too.”

  He watched the soldiers unload another set of plasti-wood logs. “I have a bad feeling about that.”

  “Yes, I do too,” Denise replied. “Whatever they’re up to probably isn’t good.”

  *****

  The unloading lasted into the late afternoon, and when it was finally complete, the gate to the militia pen was opened and the captives led out in single file. Liam and both women stood up on their tiny knoll and watched from a distance as Bob anxiously ran along the edge of the fence searching for his sister.

  Keith tried to restrain him. “Bob, are you trying to get yourself shot?”

  Heedless of the danger, Bob continued to frantically search the faces of the militia prisoners. “Clare! Where are you?” At last he saw her and charged the fence. Fortunately, Keith tackled and knocked him to the ground before he became a target for the tower guards. “Get off me!” Bob demanded.

  Keith urgently said something in Bob’s ear, but his voice was low enough that Liam couldn’t hear what was said. Seconds later Roxi rushed in to help keep Bob on the ground.

  “Clare!” Bob shouted as he finally managed to sit up.

  Clare slowly walked with the rest of the prisoners; her dark face was streaked with dried blood and she was having trouble walking. She seemed to be in a daze, but her head turned slowly to look at her brother. “It’ll be ok,” she said; regardless of her circumstances, her voice was calm, almost serene. “This ain’t nothin’ to worry about, it’s just time for me to go.”

  “No Clare!” Bob screamed. The tower guards that were watching the exchange seemed amused.

  “Remember to play the long game little brother,” Clare said. “Now you go on; don’t watch this.”

  Keith and Roxi managed to pick Bob up, even though he continued to struggle. They carried him back to their camp, where they all sat together and waited to see what would happen next.

  A sudden commotion broke out at the rear of the line of prisoners, and a moment later several members of the militia broke away and ran. “Target practice!” one of the soldiers shouted excitedly.

  The tower guards casually swung their laser rifles around; the sound they made was much like a swarm of angry bees, and the fugitives vanished one by one into a superheated red mist. The supremacy of the army’s weaponry was undeniable, and escape was clearly impossible.

  The remaining prisoners were ordered to assemble the heavy plasti-wood forms. Two of the pieces fit together into an ‘X’ shape, then one end was lifted and supported by the third section such that the structure was inclined at about a 40-degree angle.

  “What are they building?” Bob asked.

  “It’s a showcase,” Liam muttered. “The platforms are tilted so all of us will have a clear view of what they’re about to do.”

  “Why?” Bob asked.

  “It’s probably a warning to keep us in line,” Liam whispered.

  Soldiers soon arrived and marched single file along the row of plasti-wood structures. On command they turned as a unit, then each stepped forward to seize one of the prisoners. The guards forced every militia member to lie on the cross, then stretched and chained their arms and legs to the edifice. With their task complete, their captors reformed their line and walked back out the way they came.

  “I’ll wager you’re wondering what this is all about?” Startled, Liam looked up and saw that the Major was standing in one of the guard towers. “Well, I’m gonna tell you, whether you were wondering or not.” The large man grinned and leaned over the railing. “It’s a long way to Pike City, so we gotta have an example of what it’ll cost you if there’re problems along the way. Consider this a lesson in mercy; sometimes you gotta lose a few to save the rest.”

  Sergeant Mick, the leader of the group that had captured them on their way out of Flatiron, stood rigidly at one end of the line of crosses holding a knife with a long-curved blade. Liam felt the breath go out of him as he considered the possibilities.

  “Sergeant, do your duty,” the Major ordered.

  With that, Mick marched to the first prisoner that was stretched out on the cross and viciously cut a wide gash across the young man’s stomach. Blood flowed and the captive shrieked in agony. The Sergeant quickly turned away and walked to the next militia member in line waiting to be mutilated.

  The process continued, and with each new cut, those within the citizen enclosure either gasped in fear or cried out in despair. Bob screamed in rage when his sister’s stomach was slashed, and it took both Liam and Keith to restrain him. A few citizens pointlessly rushed the south fence, where they were burned into red vapor by the guards. There was nothing anyone could do to stop the torture of their friends; they all were frozen in horror, unable to look away.

  When his task was complete, Mick returned to his original position and waited at attention. The crowd shouted obscenities at him, but the Sergeant remained unmoved.

  “They ain’t dead yet.” There was a tenor of gleeful satisfaction in the Major’s words. “That’s gonna take a while; the ravens and coyotes will take care of ‘em either tonight, or sometime tomorrow. And all you useless traitors, well, you get to watch. So, let this be a lesson to you; don’t fuck with us, keep your nose clean, follow our orders, and maybe, just maybe you’ll make it to Pike City alive.”

  *****

  As the sun set, the family and friends of those slowly dying crowded along the south fence to mourn or offer what support they were able. Some shouted at the guards in fits of rage, but most remained peaceful and spoke softly to their loved ones in hopes that they could somehow ease their passing.

  It was a long night. As promised, the wild animals came; their eyes glowed in the darkness. People shouted, hoping to scare the night creatures away, but that didn’t work very well. When the sun rose, most of the militia members were dead. All that remained was to watch their further dismemberment by the crows and smell their flesh putrefy in the heat and humidity.

  Bob was inconsolable; Clare was a tough woman and it took her a long time to die. She remained stoic until she finally lost enough blood to pass into unconsciousness. That was a blessing because she was unaware when the coyotes tore into her in the early morning. By midday all of the militia were dead; then later, in the early evening soldiers arrived to haul away what remained of their corpses.

  *****

  It rained the next day, which was a good thing because the civilian survivors were suffering. During the maelstrom everyone collected water in their upturned hats,
and when the storm ended they all worried that another dry spell would follow. Better to be wet and miserable than die of dehydration in the heat.

  A few of the children and some of the older citizens had already died. There was no place to bury the bodies; all anyone could do was stack them beside the gate. The guards never opened them though. Parents cried beside their dead children, many of which soon succumbed themselves and were laid to rest beside their babies. In the intense heat the bodies rotted; flies filled the air, and the smell became nearly impossible to bear.

  If the army’s intention was to break their spirit, their efforts had failed miserably. Those who may have been neutral or ambivalent regarding the war between the Socialists and the Tribes had become strongly polarized. They hated the invaders, but it wasn’t an impetuous rage that acted rashly, instead it was a cold, patient, and calculating malice that pretended compliance and waited for opportunity.

  *****

  The army opened the gates on the fourth day, and the survivors were allowed to carry the rotting bodies of their family and friends to an open pit that had been dug on the far side of the Denver road. Once that task was complete the bodies were set on fire; fortunately, the chinook winds blowing off the mountains took the smoke further east.

  Later that same day the gates swung open again, and a stock of food and water was wheeled in. They were also given shovels to dig a latrine and provided with tents so they could get out of the rain. That night Liam sat with his adult companions and the kids that had stayed with them in their tent. It felt good to be dry; Denise’s body was warm and comforting as she leaned against him. “I wonder why they gave all this stuff to us now?” he pondered.

  “My guess is that they’re worryin’ that too many of us are gonna die,” Keith answered from the shadows; he and Rose were huddled together on the far side of the tent. “If some of the scientists they’re lookin’ for don’t make it to Pike City there could be a lot of trouble for ‘em, especially if it gets back that they died here.”