The Violent Society

by M C Rooney

  “Of course, handsome,” she replied.

  Grant Hamill gave a little start at being flirted with by a woman old enough to be his great-grandmother. He was glad he was one of the fully clothed members of the Martin Clan at that moment because her eyes lingered a bit too long on his body for his liking. The full clothing outwardly signified that he wasn’t a warrior, something the Martins hated, and this was happening with more and more young men over the last two years because of the subtle work of himself and his brothers. Fortunately, the Martins had not found out the real reason yet.

  “Oh, just reliving the wonderful news about my son’s death,” she replied, not thinking about how callous that must sound.

  “Ah, yes, Maurice Roberts, now known as Hockey,” Grant replied. “I remember my grandfather telling me about that fateful day.”

  “Arnie Hamill,” Rebecca said in disgust. “One of the first to swear fealty to my son. He kicked me out of this house, you know.”

  “On orders from the chief, of course,” Grant replied with a gentle smile.

  Rebecca looked at Grant Hamill once more. Such a nice young man he was. The Hamills were all solid-looking boys and all had this thick, wavy brown hair. A few of the elders joked that when they gathered together, they looked like a New Romantic band from way back in the nineteen eighties.

  “I don’t understand why your grandfather came back?”

  “He doesn’t either,” Grant replied with a chuckle. “He complains about it every day. But my mother and father, may they rest in peace, are buried here, and he thought of this place as home.”

  Truth was, he left the Midlands because he couldn’t stand being near any of the Martins. The trouble was, after a year, the Martins had followed him back, and he had been stuck here ever since.

  “Well, he is lucky my great-nephew hasn’t killed him.”

  Grant hesitated for just a fraction of a moment. Anyone who was watching carefully would have noticed, but an eighty-seven-year-old woman who was so self-absorbed missed it completely.

  “Of course he is,” Grant replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “but he is an old, defenceless man, and what would be the sport in killing him?” Actually, he was only fifty-nine years of age and could punch out most men half his age.

  “Oh, don’t worry, young Grant.” The old woman chuckled. “My Brett is not interested in exacting revenge for a father he cannot even remember. And besides, Maurice is dead,” she finished with more cackling laughter.

  Brett Martin only killed people who wanted to rule this clan and wanted this house. When he had returned, he killed the new leader and had only been challenged as the chief twice since. He took the challengers and betrayers’ heads and spiked them on top of this house. They were still up there, apparently, for any who wanted to see desiccated skulls.

  “That is good news on both accounts, Mrs Roberts,” Grant replied with a small bow. “Now, if you would excuse me, I have work to do in regards to adding up today’s food stocks and making sure they are evenly distributed.”

  “Ah, of course, young man,” Rebecca replied. “We made such a mistake in the past with the food distribution. I told my Brett about the mistakes of the past. I am glad you are here to see that the common folk are not upset at us ruling.”

  “Of course, Rebecca,” Grant replied with a kindly smile and walked out of the huge lounge room to the small pokey room that was used for his work.

  Common folk! How dare she talk that way about our people! His grandfather said that Rebecca Roberts thought she was the Queen of England, wherever that was. As he sat down at his desk, his fists clenched tightly. If anyone touches my grandfather, I will gut them like a fish, he thought angrily as he tried to unclench his fists. Don’t you realise I can count because of my grandfather; don’t you realise I can read because of him? He raised me from when I was five.

  Be calm, Grant; don’t be violent. Don’t be like the Martins, he thought over and over. Focus and be patient; something will turn up. We can’t go on being ruled by this evil family forever. We have to evolve.

  The Circle was a stupid way of deciding who ruled. Hockey had been needed for his time, but that time had passed. His grandfather told him how people used to vote for the leaders they wanted. He said that the political parties had candidates who were not always the brightest and were often corrupt because of money, but Grant had heard rumours of people called mayors leading communities in the South, and they were helped by rangers, who upheld the law. They seemed to be a more happy and peaceful society than the West. Peaceful! If only we could be peaceful.

  The Accountant focused on his work. The adding and subtracting, the measurements to make sure everybody got their fair share, and he forgot about killing the Martins for the next few hours. Only a few hours, though.

  Hockey and his Crew

  “Look, an animal,” Ian said as he unlimbered his bow from his shoulder.

  “No, you can’t kill that!” John Carter said in alarm.

  “Why not?” replied Ian, who was salivating as the small animal crossed their path and hissed at them.

  “It’s a cat.”

  “A what?”

  “A cat, you know … a pussy.”

  Sam, Alex, and Ian broke into laughter. “An animal was named after that?” Alex cackled.

  John sighed. How do I explain this one? He knew of the term generation gap, but after the Collapse, it became more of a culture gap between the old and the young.

  “Not … that sort of pussy,” he said with a grimace. “People used to have cats in their homes.”

  “Like dogs?” asked Ian.

  “Yes, exactly like dogs,” replied John, who was quite happy to get away from the subject of pussy.

  “Bloody annoying things they were,” grumbled Hockey, who was sitting on a nearby fallen log, breathing heavily.

  Three weeks had passed since the battle of the Tower, and they had only managed to walk halfway to the West because of Hockey’s dodgy health. One day he would be fine, and the next they would have to sit and wait as he slept in one of their makeshift tents. The women who had survived the battle had moved on, as they wanted desperately to catch up with Buzz and his tribe. John had given them directions to their old hometown and hoped Hockey had not noticed that they had moved off in a different direction to where they were headed now. John, of course, had stayed with Hockey, as that is what best mates did. But Ian, Sam, and Alex stayed with Hockey because they still considered him to be their chief, regardless of recent happenings.

  “Cats or dogs?” asked Carter, who adjusted a scarf, which everybody was now wearing, that was wrapped around his head.

  “Cats,” Hockey replied, his lungs still clearly showing the sound of disease. “Always expecting to be waited upon. Not like a dog. A dog loved you and was loyal to a fault. They would never leave you.”

  Hmm, John thought, I think I know who this conversation is really about.

  Veronica had left Hockey, taking her daughters along, about four years ago. Hockey had been devastated. A part of this was because of the shame he felt that the wife of the chief had abandoned him, but John knew that the main cause of his despair was that he loved Veronica and missed her badly. He loved his daughters too, especially the youngest one, but Hockey had somehow forgotten how to express that love, and his wife and daughters thought he was indifferent to them. The events of the last month had changed everything. Carter had heard him whisper to his son Buzz that he loved him, though it had been said so quietly that Buzz had not heard. Now, John just had to find a way to make him say it more loudly next time.

  “I’d like a dog,” Ian said. “Tom said they were man’s best friend.”

  “Who is Tom?” Carter asked.

  “A ranger from the south,” Sam replied.

  “He rode a house,” Ian said.

  “A horse, Ian,” Alex corrected.

  “Oh, yes,” Ian replied, “with big teeth.”

  “And what was this … ranger
, doing up here?” Hockey asked.

  “He was looking for the tower,” Sam replied.

  “He had this glass thingy in his pocket,” Ian said, “and as he got closer to the tower, it began to shine.”

  “A lightbulb!” Carter said, surprised.

  “Yes,” Alex replied. “He believed it was powered by the tower. He was seeking knowledge, as he wanted to know how to provide energy to his hometown.”

  Hockey groaned in despair. Wireless energy, he thought as he placed his head in his hands. He had read about using wireless energy on a large scale when he was a kid. He had sat under a tower that could have supplied electricity for the last three years and had done nothing. He could have helped his people, like Buzz was doing now. What was wrong with him? Where had that young man Maurice gone? He really was useless, as his mother had so often said. No wonder his wife left him.

  Carter looked at his friend with worry. He really wasn’t going to beat the disease if he was stressed all the time. He was about to say something encouraging to him when he heard a buzzing noise coming from the north.

  “What’s that?” Ian asked.

  “Get your bows out,” Carter commanded.

  “And spread out,” Hockey added as he finally awakened from his self-pity.

  As the five men ran for cover in the nearby terrain, Carter noticed that the sound appeared to be coming from above.

  “Sounds mechanical,” Hockey said quietly to his friend.

  “Mechanical and flying,” Carter replied, and soon enough, they saw a small disk flying over the treetops.

  “Is that what I think it is?” asked Carter in disbelief.

  “A drone,” Hockey replied in confusion as he watched the disk stop and hover just above them.

  “To spy on people.”

  “But what is worth spying on nowadays?” Hockey replied as he stood up.

  “What is that?” Ian called out. He sounded worried.

  “Just a relic from a bygone age, Ian,” Carter replied calmly, nothing to worry about.” I hope so anyway, Carter thought to himself.

  The drone had a little camera extending from the main body, and the camera was now focused on the large former chief of the western tribe.

  “And who are you, little fella?” Hockey called out to the mechanical object in the sky.

  Carter had signaled for the other boys to try hitting it with their bows, but suddenly, a loud boom came from the nearby trees, and the drone fell to the ground in pieces.

  “That’s a gun,” Hockey cried out in shock.

  “Get down,” Carter shouted to the young boys.

  After a moment, they heard the footsteps of someone walking through the bush. Whoever it was, they were not hiding themselves.

  “No need to crap yourself, Maurice,” a voice yelled out with a rasping sort of laughter.

  The three young men looked at the new arrival in fear, but Carter and Hockey had recognised that voice, even though they had not heard it in many years.

  “It’s okay; he’s a friend,” Carter said quietly to the young men. “Go and collect what is left of the drone.” After a moment’s pause, the boys did what they were ordered.

  “Where did you get the shotty?” Hockey called back.

  “Found it in one of the abandoned huts out here,” the new arrival said as he lifted his shotgun. “It must have been a hunting range, as there are hundreds of ducks out here.”

  “Ducks are a bit greasy.”

  “Yes, but starvation will fix that.”

  Hockey and John watched with big grins on their faces as Craig Cheng walked out of the nearby tree line. He was covered in furs from head to toe, a lot greyer and wrinkly than they remembered, but so were Carter and Hockey.

  “You haven’t seen my cat by any chance?”

  “Yes, we have, you old bastard,” Carter said as he came forward and hugged his old school friend.

  “No hugs from me,” Hockey said holding up his hands “I’m still a bit poorly from a lung infection.”

  “Ah, the disease that has been sweeping across Tassie,” Craig replied.

  “How do you know about that?” Hockey asked. “You’re in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Travellers do pass by,” Craig replied with an enquiring look at Carter.

  “He doesn’t know,” Carter whispered.

  Craig nodded his head in understanding.

  “What are you girls gossiping about?” Hockey asked with an arch of his brow.

  “Nothing,” Carter replied.

  “Just girl talk,” Craig said with a smile.

  Hockey grunted.

  “So what are you doing out here still?” asked Carter.

  “I enjoy the solitude,” replied Craig. “Too many people back at the mansion.”

  “You brought most of them there, remember?” Hockey said.

  “Ah, yes, I do remember those months well,” Craig mused. “My brother and sister and I bolted, as you said Ken Martin would be hunting us, and then we found all those people huddling in caves by the coast.”

  “Those people helped us survive, I think,” Carter said quietly.

  “Well, it’s good to see you,” Hockey said.

  Craig Cheng looked at Hockey in surprise. “What has happened to him?” he asked Carter. “Why is he being so nice?”

  “Mid-life crisis,” Carter replied with a grin.

  “Ah, get fucked,” Hockey growled out.

  “That’s better,” Craig said, laughing.

  The three boys came running up to them with what was left of the drone.

  “Have you seen any of these before?” Carter asked Cheng.

  “Yeah, a few times,” Craig replied, “but I usually stay low and let them go.”

  “Except this time,” said Hockey.

  “Sorry, Maurice,” Craig replied with a grin. “I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to see your reaction.”

  “Bastard,” Hockey mumbled, but Carter could see the small grin on his face.

  “What’s that symbol on the flying thing?” asked Ian.

  “I remember seeing that symbol when I was a kid,” said Carter.

  “A letter within a circle,” said Sam.

  “What letter is it?” asked Alex.

  “I’m not sure,” replied Sam in embarrassment; like his brother, he could not read or write.

  “As soon as we get settled, I am teaching you boys to read and write,” said Carter in a firm voice. “No arguments now.”

  His boys could all read and write; he and their mother had insisted on teaching them. Thankfully, Veronica had taught her children as well.

  “It’s an Anarchy symbol,” Hockey said for all to hear.

  Carter noticed that his friend looked ashamed again. No doubt he thought, as chief, he should have insisted on building a school to teach the young.

  “Anarchy, what’s that?” asked Sam.

  “A puzzle, that’s what it is, Sam,” Hockey replied quietly as he looked at the metallic object in Sam’s hands.

  “I guess we better get moving,” Carter said to the group. “Perhaps that drone was monitored by someone nearby.”

  “Could be, John,” Craig said. “But I haven’t seen any strangers walking through the woods.”

  “It’s better to be safe than sorry, I always say.”

  “Are you coming with us, Craig?” asked Hockey.

  “Yes, mate,” Chen replied. “I have some old clothes in the hut as well that should fit most of you. But not you, Hockey; it will have to be old sheets for you.”

  “So long as it suits the color of my eyes,” he replied with a grin.

  Craig Cheng looked at his old friend in shock. He really had changed, and for the better it seemed.

  “So that’s it, then?” asked Carter, who, as always, was the organiser of the group.

  “Yep,” Craig replied, “but before we go, I have to leave some food out for my pussy.”

  The three young men broke into laughter again.

  The
Hippy Village

  Sixty-five-year-old Veronica Roberts stood with hands on her hips and watched as her youngest daughter returned to the village from her so-called hunting trip. “Where have you been, young lady?”

  “Just hunting, Mum,” her daughter replied in a soft voice.

  “You’re not a very good liar, Danni Roberts,” her mother said. “It’s not that I disapprove of Flynn; he is a nice man, just like his father. But he is watching the Martins for your brother, and it is very dangerous.”

  “I know,” Danni replied. “We just saw four bodies lying on the road.”

  “What!” Veronica exclaimed. “Who were they?”

  “Martin men,” Danni replied. “In fact, one of the men was Glen Martin himself.”

  Oh no!

  The Hippy Village, as it was called, dated back to about ten years ago, when a number of people from the Roberts Clan decided to leave and form their own community. They were tired of the violence and the lack of education provided for their children, and the chief who went by the name of Hockey was blamed for the stagnation of their society. For six years they lived harmoniously, and apart from the odd quarrel between neighbours, they all lived a happy and peaceful life. However, this peace was broken when none other than the chief’s wife herself asked to join the little village. Opposition was strong to Veronica and her daughters living in their community, and with good reason. What if Hockey decided to bring her back to him? What if her vicious eldest son, Rod, decided to stay? But Veronica had convinced them that her husband would not come looking for her and that only her daughters would be living with her. And so, as the four years went by and they were indeed left alone, the villagers began to trust her and not worry about her husband’s wrath.

  All that, however, would change with the death of Glen Martin.

  “They’re going to come for us!” the village mayor, Jake Holmes, cried out as he slammed his fist on the large table of the community hall. “Make no mistake, he will look for vengeance and unleash his sons, and the first person they will seek will be a Roberts.”

  All of the community had tried to come into the hall. They must have numbered over a hundred, and some had to look in the windows from outside to hear the discussion.