by Travis Hill
The fact that I was somehow obsessing over her on my march back home worried more than the black hole inside of me. Dru was somehow both forbidden fruit because of her age and beauty as well as an uncomfortable awakening of desire. But those feelings were annihilated by the void of so much loss over the years. Especially the loss of almost four hundred human beings I was supposed to protect by doing a hard but necessary job.
Sandra’s memory kept the void open, active, and fed through emotional determination. Glenna’s death—just days before we were to marry when I was twenty-seven—began a chain reaction that consumed a different kind of fuel: my emotional stability. Doreen before that when I was twenty, then Kelli five months later.
Doreen and Kelli were killed as our little band moved up or down the highway each night on my endless quest to find my sister. When the rest of the group abandoned me three nights later, no longer willing participants in my single-minded mission that had caused five of our “family” to die already, it was somehow harder than watching Dora, Kellie, and the others expire while screaming in pain from a gut shot or simply dying in the silence between a dozen or more guns firing in desperation.
From then on I kept everyone at arm’s length other than a few hours or nights together. My life was too wild, too focused to care about anyone beyond myself. The paths I traveled, the roads I walked… they were too dangerous to take the chance another love would survive.
I stumbled into The Farm not so much by accident as by necessity. More than a dozen years of searching for my own white whale had taken enough out of me that I needed to stop, to relax, to recharge. I spent nine more months wandering the Pacific Northwest, looking for the right community to merge with. I was young, strong, a good shot, and smart enough to learn anything beyond nuclear physics or any kind of surgery beyond basic first-aid.
A lot of small villages were closer to batshit crazy cults than they were communities. A lot more were barely holding on and would be wiped from the earth if even a dozen armed bad guys showed up. I didn’t want to stake my life on the hope my new neighbors were far enough off the beaten path to be invisible to those who would take whatever we had to give before taking everything we couldn’t afford to lose. A few of the larger towns were either blinded by religion, a man who was insane yet wielded power or fear with an iron fist, or spent most of their time warring with each other and any neighboring outposts of humanity.
Eugene was a war zone. The Santanas were the largest group and seemed to love nothing more than to fight with the Kaisers, the second-largest gang. As much as they were at each other’s throats, at least half the time they were engaged in some kind of joint raid or scavenger hunt that would benefit both parties—which almost always meant the benefits came at the expense of the remaining gangs. It was a way to ensure that neither Santanas or Kaisers had enough power or personnel to take over the entire city but had more than enough power to make all others in the valley live under their boot heels.
The Farm seemed like the best place to put down some roots. I wasn’t looking for a permanent home, but for nine years, that’s exactly what it had become. The first couple of years working the fields gave me time to reflect on my life and what I’d done up to that point. I spent the first few months pulling weeds, planting tomatoes, and expunging the guilt and terror of the previous fourteen years.
Most of the faces of the men and women I’d murdered had merged into ghostly, formless shapes. I separated the victims into two groups in my head—those who would have killed me if I hadn’t resolved the issue by taking their lives first and those I likely had murdered without remorse because of my mental or emotional state at the time. I didn’t consider myself brutal or psychotic, even at my worst, but I definitely wouldn’t blink to rob someone of their last breath if I felt like my life or the lives of my friends were in danger.
***
All of my personal worries were wiped away when I saw the crowds gathering near the southern wall. Most of the faces looked scared, as if they knew one of us would break away from the group to report the death of their loved ones. Some faces were full of anger and resentment. I didn’t know if their fury was because we (I) had allowed so many of our people to die or they were upset that we had kicked the hornets’ nest and the Bulls would pay us the same kind of visit at any moment.
Jackie weaved her way through the returning soldiers to fall into step next to me. She looked frightened. None of us expected a hero’s welcome, but even fewer of us could have guessed at the level of fear and resentment coursing through the still-gathering crowds lining the road.
“Something’s not right, Evan,” Jackie said to me. She passed her gaze over the citizens we passed by. “What do you want us to do?”
“Let everyone get with their families,” I said. “Tony and I will brief Mom and the council and we’ll see what happens from there.”
“Are you okay?” she asked, glancing over at me. Dru looked around me from the other side. I caught the slight shake of her head in my peripheral vision. “You don’t look okay, Evan.”
“I’m just tired,” I said, keeping the details of my exhaustion to myself. “Let’s just get home then we’ll worry about whatever happens.”
I sped up, putting distance between myself and the two women. I felt both relieved and disappointed that Dru didn’t catch up to me. She hadn’t strayed more than a dozen feet from me in the last few days. The wound in my neck flared bright for a moment, cutting off all thoughts or regrets that had begun to materialize in my head now that I had my thoughts to myself again. I reached up, gingerly tracing the cut with my finger over the top of the makeshift bandage. The stitches Doc Carter gave me were beginning to itch and all my brain could do was worry about the wound being infected. I even experienced a moment where I was sure I smelled gangrene.
Not all of the citizens of The Farm came out to greet us. I knew most of them were hard at work taking care of an important task that kept The Farm running like a well-oiled machine. I estimated almost a thousand people had come out to see us in, but it was hard to tell once our marching army began to break up as individuals made their way home. Jackie caught up to me but I only nodded my head, letting her know to take care of her own affairs. Dru and Tony stayed a few feet behind me as we continued toward the big house.
Jenna stood on the porch, arms at her sides, her expression unreadable. I wanted to rush forward and pull her into a tight hug. I also wanted to go to my apartment and be alone for a week. I saw Jenna’s eyes shift and I turned to see members of the council approaching as a group. For some reason, I didn’t like that Jenna was alone and the rest of the council seemed to be discussing an issue without involving her.
“Welcome home, Evan,” Jenna said when I stopped at the bottom step. She looked to the two who stepped up to either side of me. “Tony, Druscilla,” she said, nodding her head at them.
Jenna stepped aside and opened the door, gesturing for me to enter. Tony followed but Dru was told she had to wait. I worried Dru would take offense at it but her reply was soft and respectful even if I couldn’t make out the actual words. Tony and I stopped in the main living room, neither of us sure what to do or where to go. I wanted to go to my apartment more than ever.
“Have a seat, Tony,” Jenna said softly as she came up behind us. “I want to talk to Evan for a moment.”
“Sure,” Tony said.
He sat in the nearest chair. Jenna grabbed me by the arm gently and led me into the hallway toward her bedroom. She closed the door behind her after we entered then enveloped me in a hug that made the weapons on my back dig into my skin. I returned the hug in kind, letting some of my stress and worry out as I took in the scent of the woman I’d made love to a month earlier.
“Evan, there’s serious trouble brewing,” she said after separating from me.
I stared at her for a long time. She was right about serious trouble brewing. I didn’t know what to say, how to tell her that the serious trouble was within my own head.
“It’s Darker This Way” - Available Q2/Q3 2017
AFTERWORD
Well… it’s been a long time (five years almost???). If you’re one of the many who have been waiting for the next installment of “It’s Better This Way,” then I apologize profusely for taking such a long time to get it written and published. If you’re a new reader, thank you for catching a ride and I hope, like those who have waited forever for this story to continue, that you will stick around for more.
Because there is more to this story. But before I briefly talk about that, I just want to take a few moments to let you know why this story sat on my computer and collected dust for so long. “It’s Better This Way” was the first story I ever published. It was a bit of a rookie story though quite a bit darker (or just morally vague) than what a lot of readers expected. I eventually made “Better” free everywhere and it became (and still is) my most popular story. Within the first year, I began receiving emails and such asking (sometimes demanding) I continue the story since “Better” just sort of stops at the end.
I REALLY wanted to continue the story. I really, truly did. But the story didn’t want to be continued at that time. I must have written a dozen “first” chapters and discarded all of them over the next three years. I tried to force myself to write “Harder.” I begged myself, I bargained with myself, and Carly (my awesome wife) didn’t help by subtly reminding me that because of how popular “Better” is means a sequel would be fairly popular as well. And so I tried to write it. I really did. But I just couldn’t.
I always tell anyone who bothers to ask about why I write or what I write that “I write stories I want to read that no one else is writing.” During the time after “Better,” I wanted to write a ton of alien invasion stories, rogue AI tales, stories where odd computers could pull web pages from the future, more alien invasion stories, time travel nonsense, even a couple of “crime fiction” books. I didn’t honestly know how I truly felt about “Better” for most of the years leading up to me finally writing “Harder” (and “Darker” and a couple more continuations of the story).
One day about seven months ago (~July 2016), I stood in the shower wondering where my life was headed (you know, those weirdly typical “shower thoughts” we all have) when I guess I suddenly realized where I wanted to take this story. Lots of readers wanted more aliens, but I never really wanted the story to be about aliens in an “Independence Day” setting where it was humans vs aliens. Lots of readers simply wanted more “hard choices in a harsh world” storyline that revolved around The Farm, but I didn’t really want that either. Some wanted Evan to search for Sandra, his sister who has been missing since the day the Bulls arrived. Some wanted Evan to explore the world, or at least some of the hints that were dropped about what was left of civilization in “Better.”
“Harder” is the first step toward the rest of the story (old Paul Harvey fans either smiled knowingly or cringed perceptibly, and fans of adverbs just rejoiced). I now know where this story is headed. Some readers will be turned off by it, and some will cheer me on to keep going because they love it. I’m already writing “It’s Darker This Way” as I finish this Afterword up and prepare to publish “Harder.” You won’t have to wait another four or five years to see where it goes. I’ve conceptualized it all the way to a minimum of four sequels, so I at least have plenty of ideas to work with. Some of those ideas will be ignored, some will be changed, and new ideas will arrive during the process that I hadn’t thought of when banging out the concept (sort of like an outline, but written as if I were telling the story to you over lunch).
The only thing(s) I can promise about what’s coming is that this world is a dark, bleak world, and that won’t change. I do not believe it will ever dip into the black, bottomless depths of despair or hopelessness that “End of the Line” did. But it won’t ever be close to the chipper, fun romp of “The Big Bhang” either. Evan has a lot more hard decisions coming up. The old saying goes something like “it gets harder before it gets better” and from my life experience, that generally seems true. But the payoff of sticking it out can be worth it. As long as some jughead author doesn’t fuck it all up. *ahem*
*****
Special thanks to Jeff Brown (http://jeffbrowngraphics.com/book-covers/) for the awesome cover. He’ll be doing the cover for “Launch Sequence” (upcoming sequel to “End of the Line”) and likely future books in this series. He really, really, REALLY saved the day for me by having a slot open. He’s extremely talented and more importantly, I gave him a break from 2,432,093 “space opera” covers in a row. Okay, maybe that isn’t actually more important, but again, he’s my hero for the next few weeks.
Thanks to Carly, my superhero wife. I always thank her, but she’s always the first in line to read whatever crap I write, and she’s always there to prop me up whenever I want to give up. You can imagine her relief after I first handed her “Harder” to read. I took it as she’s happy she’ll now be rich and we can buy a mansion made from hollowed-out BMWs, but the look she’s giving me as I write this says no, that is an incorrect assumption. I guess she’s just happy I’m finally back to writing in this universe. Wait until she reads the story about aliens who trade high technology for raw human sewage. She won’t be so thankful then hahahaha *ahem*
Thanks to everyone who ever sent me an email, a shout out on Twitter, a message on Facebook, etc. I told you I would get around to it one day. I can imagine that in the four-plus years you’ve waited that your pitchforks are sharpened to razor edges and your torches are powered by magnesium in anticipation of mobbing me if you didn’t enjoy the story.
Thank you to my LGBTQ friends, family, and allies. Marriage equality is now the law of the land, but there’s still a lot of work to do, especially after the 2016 election seems to have pushed us backward down the mountain. Never give up, and never believe you cannot make a difference because you are one voice in a crowd. But the most important thing I can possibly say is ALWAYS VOTE. No matter who you vote for, constitutional democracy does not work without citizen participation. Vote in your city-wide, county, state, and national elections.
Better yet, run for office yourself if your representatives are not fulfilling their end of the bargain. Even if you lose by a landslide, your effort will encourage others to do the same. If you don’t participate… well, you see what can happen.
Travis Hill
January 31, 2017
CAST OF CHARACTERS
From: “Its Harder This Way”
The Farm:
Evan Greggs (38,M) - main character
Tony Galliardi (43,M) - council member, Evan’s former scouting partner
Druscilla (24, F) - accompanies Evan to Crater Lake
Spider (18,M) - Blatch Davies' kid. Awkward, gangly teenager
Kyle Holloway (59,M) - ex-Army sergeant
Larry Mellon (52,M) - ex-Army lieutenant
Kember Freemont (55,M) - ex-Marine
Jackie Nunez (36,F) - leading hidden 200 group with Larry Mellon
Jenna White (56,F) - aka “Mom” / founder of The Farm
Crater Lake / Base Charlie:
Corporal Myers - Rover-4
Corporal Yates - Rover-2 @ Little Deschutes River
General Pryor (64,M) - leader of Crater Lake
General Livingston (59,M) - 2nd in command Crater Lake
Colonel Rebecca Collins (31, F) - Evan’s love interest
Sergeant Draper (25,M) - Collins’ XO
Sergeant Featherston (19, F) - liaison to Evan’s group during Bull attack
All books are available in ebook format from all major retailers. If a title is listed free here but is not free at your retailer of choice, please email me at [email protected]. Tell me which format you need (or ereader device you’ll be using) and I’ll send it for free.
Mailing list for new releases/updates here: http://www.angrygames.com or http://eepurl.com/D2ktH
(* paperback version available)
*The Big
Bhang:
Jeremy Jefferson Jacobs Jackson--Forjay to everyone but his mother--grew the most potent marijuana on Earth. Some said the entire Federation of Allied Planets. When the Galactic Union declares humanity unfit to exist, only one man has what it takes to be a true hero to the citizens of FAP.
Join Forjay, Ms. Marianna Templeton, Ambassador Dave Thatcher, and a large, diverse, generally annoying cast of the Galactic Union's alien species on an adventure that spans both time and the space. Relish in the glory of victory, plunge to the lowest depths of despair in defeat, and scream insults at stupid, uppity, snooty, gloppy alien jerks who act like they're better than human beings (and think they're tough).
*** Definitely Fake Editorial Reviews of "The Big Bhang" ***
"I didn't understand this book at all..." - Fijj Yom, Wroglarian (a dumb alien species not affected by weed)
"There's a lot of commas and long sentences in this book!" - some reader who complained about commas and long sentences
"This book is not funny." - NYPD Patrol Officer Gary Garrison
"Bark bark bark growl. Bark!" - NYPD Drug Canine Mr. Fang
"This is the lowest form of propaganda, the kind only a weak, mewling race of soup-filled meatbags would dare to popularize." - Tyx War General Boomz Blasterton
"Reading this book is the dumbest thing you could ever do." - the author of this book
