by Darrell Bain
“Because tomorrow we're going to find some other good people to help us protect this place. They'll need water, too."
“Why should we share? Let them find their own place."
Lyda was disgusted. Didn't the man have any sense at all? “Because if there's not enough of us here, sooner or later, a gang will take it from us,” she explained patiently, like a teacher repeating a lesson to one of her students not as smart as the others. “Besides, I bet some people are going hungry and thirsty. We should help them if we can."
Charlie looked away, not convinced. He went over to where Jacob was still cutting pieces of cloth and squatted down by him. After a minute, Lyda heard him say, “Let me see that knife, boy."
Jacob started to hand Charlie the knife.
“No!” Lyda shouted. “Leave him alone. Besides, that's my knife."
Charlie snatched it from Jacob's hand and stood up. He grinned without a trace of humor.
“Charlie, give the boy back his knife!” Dorothy said sternly, a note of exasperation in her voice.
“Why? I can use it better than him. And I might need it to protect us."
Lyda thought it more likely he would use a knife to intimidate or hurt others before he would protect them. He was the kind of person who thought of himself first. She knew she had to get the knife back.
“Give Jacob the knife,” she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling.
“No.” He turned to Dorothy. “Why should we let that kid tell us what to do? I'm not going to take orders from her."
Lyda knew she could take out the revolver, but like the extra water she now carried in the dead woman's backpack, she wanted to save it for emergencies. Besides, anyone could give orders with a gun; she didn't want to start doing that. She stared at Charlie, hoping Dorothy would intervene. When she didn't, Lyda took a deep breath and felt a reservoir of confidence welling up inside her. She was competent. Some other adults must also be, but these weren't. It was up to her to handle this situation. “You can either do what I say, or you can leave."
“You can't make me leave."
“Yes I can. I can even kill you if I have to, but I'm not going to yet. Me and Willy and Jacob can take that little knife away from you. But if we have to, then you're going to leave. Do you understand?” She continued staring at him after she finished speaking.
Charlie looked from her to Willy's big framed body and back to her. He gave her a sickly grin. “I was just kidding. Here, kid. Go ahead and cut some more cloth.” He dropped the knife to the ground beside Jacob and went over to get a drink of water, trying to act nonchalant about the whole episode.
Lyda wasn't fooled. She knew she would have to watch him. She also knew she could make him leave, but apparently, there were lots of adults just like him around. She was just going to have to learn how to cope with them. What she couldn't figure out was why Dorothy was married to him. But then again, there were lots of things adults did that puzzled her.
Just at dusk, two children wandered up to their camp, a well-developed girl a few years older than herself and a boy about fourteen, she thought. They were very hungry and thirsty. Lyda showed them which tub to drink from and where the sanitary area was. They accepted her authority, apparently without much thought. They were probably glad to have someone take care of them, Lyda decided.
Dorothy was over on the other side of the rock with Charlie and had been for a while. She had heard their voices occasionally, sometimes becoming loud with argument. Lyda was introducing the new arrivals to Willy and the boys when they returned. She added them to the introduction. She gave first names only, deciding that was simpler. For reasons she didn't quite understand, she finished with both her first and last names. “And I'm Lyda Brightner."
The girl was named Maryanne and the boy, Bart. Both of them had been captured in El Paso, they said. They had been at a mall and had no idea whether their parents had been taken or not. Lyda noticed they were dressed for summer.
“Jacob, please cut enough cloth for them to wrap around themselves tonight so they won't get cold."
“Sure,” Jacob said. His brother Patrick sat down beside him and held the cloth to make the cutting easier. Lyda saw that as a hopeful sign. Maybe Patrick was coming out of shock.
“I got cold last night. Can I have some?” Charlie asked.
Lyda looked at his light jacket. “All right,” she said. A peace offering. If Charlie was going to be tractable, she would try to work with him. When Patrick was finished, she retrieved the knife.
During the night, Lyda woke to the sound of shots. Someone else had a gun—and was using it for something.
* * * *
Over the next few days, Lyda found herself growing into her leadership role. It became easier as the others accepted her authority, but she still had moments when she was alone and unsure of herself. There were times she wished her father—or someone like him—was with them; a strong man who could help her, or take over running the camp.
The morning after hearing the shots, Lyda sent Maryanne off with the two spare water bottles to where she said that she and Bart had passed several adults turned away from another group guarding a supply machine. Before leaving, Maryanne got her aside and whispered, “The woman told me not to go near them; the men were trying to trade food and water for sex. I'm glad we found you. I was getting so hungry and thirsty, I thought it might start sounding like a good idea before long."
It would never sound like a good idea to me, Lyda thought. Although I guess if I got thirsty enough, I'd have to. To Maryanne, she said, “No one here is going to be forced to do anything like that. Everyone has to help keep order, though.” Privately, she hoped the adults would cooperate, including the new ones she sent Maryanne to rescue.
While Maryanne was gone, there came the sound of more gunshots in the distance, faint but definite, and she thought she could hear screams and yells mixed in, but she wasn't sure. Lyda didn't know what the sounds meant, though she suspected it was two groups fighting over supplies. She wondered why aliens would go to all the trouble of capturing humans and transporting them to the desert, then not provide enough food, water and shelter to keep them going. It was a puzzle that she had little time to think about because her group kept growing.
The adults Maryanne brought back later that day provided proof there was indeed fighting. The four men and five women were weak and badly dehydrated. Only with the aid of the two water bottles to revive them had they been able to make it to her camp at all. Curiously to her, the women appeared to be in better shape than the men.
Once they had all slaked their thirst and begun to eat, they were recovered enough to tell their tales. They had all been taken from around Houston at the same time, soon after the invasion. All had been working in the ground floor of a small office building and were herded into a transport by the spider mechs when they ran outside to return to their homes. One man wearing a sports jacket and a necktie he was using as a headband spoke for all of them after Lyda asked them not to all talk at once. He had given his name as Gary Brooks.
“It's been bad,” he said. “There are hordes of people west of here and not enough of those food and water machines to feed them all. Me and Jimmy here tried to set up some kind of rationing system and it worked the first day or two. After that, the bullies came, men and women both.” He rubbed at his eye, blackened and badly swollen. “We tried to fight, but some of them had hammers, like maybe they had been on a building job somewhere. They took over. The first day, they handed out a little bit of food and water, so long as you did exactly what they said. When they saw there wasn't enough for everyone, they separated out the young women and ran the rest of us off. I wish to hell I had a gun."
“Someone has one. I've heard shots,” Lyda said.
Gary nodded. “We did, too. That's why we came this way. We were hoping to find another one of those machines that give out the goodies but...” He shrugged and looked around at Lyda's group, still sitting separately from the
newcomers. “By the way, thanks for sending Maryanne for us. We would have died otherwise. Who did that? Who's in charge here?"
“I am,” Lyda said. “And I sent Maryanne after you."
“You?"
Lyda stood up and looked directly at him. “Yes. Does that bother you?"
Gary examined her curiously, but with no hostility. He appeared to be in his early thirties and had a pleasant face and short brown hair just long enough to part. Presently, he said, “Kid, you saved our lives. I won't argue with you."
“My name isn't kid. It's Lyda Brightner. I'm in charge because I've been through worse than you have and I hated it. No one is going to do that to me again. And here, we share and share alike, and if we have to, we're going to fight to keep it that way."
Gary grinned painfully. Lyda saw he had a split lip like hers. “That's fine with me, Miss Brightner. I don't mind taking orders from someone who knows what they're doing, even if they are young enough to be my daughter. And if we have to fight ... well, it's better than dying of thirst, I can tell you that."
And other things, Lyda thought. She made eye contact with everyone in Gary's group, remembering something from the past. Dad had told her once that it was important to look at someone directly when you talked to them, especially if you were telling them what to do. Most of the adults nodded agreement. Two or three looked unsure but not disagreeable. Lyda was satisfied and told them to rest for a while, then she would have something for them to do.
Lyda knew there might be problems later. In fact, she was almost certain of it. She didn't think many adults would like taking orders from a kid, not for long—unless she produced results to show them why they should. Late in the evening, refugees from the fighting she had heard in the distance began arriving and she became very busy.
* * * *
Lyda found herself with more duties than she could handle. The new arrivals were surly and little more than a mob at first. She had to stand by the food and water with Gary on one side and Willy on the other, with all three of them shouting over and over again, “Women and children first, women and children first!” She thought for a moment she was going to have to show her gun to keep order, but a line finally formed.
“Maryanne! Come here!” Lyda shouted once she could take her eyes away from the additions to the group.
Maryanne came running. “As they finish drinking and get their food, show them to the sanitation area, will you?"
“Sure. I'll get Bart to help. Okay?"
“Great. Thanks.” She turned to Gary. “They'll have to have some shelter. Some of them will get really cold tonight. Does anyone in your group have scissors or a knife to help Jacob and Patrick cut some more cloth?"
Gary called to one of the women who had arrived with him. Somehow, she had held onto her purse and miraculously, it contained scissors. Lyda put her to work.
As soon as the crowd cleared away from the the food machine, Gary motioned her to follow him. Lyda went with him until they were far enough away not to be overheard.
“Miss Brightner, you're doing fine, but maybe I can help more if you'll let me."
“Sure,” Lyda said gratefully.
Gary rubbed at his black eye. “I haven't told you but I was in the military, the army. And I've seen how those water tubs can be pressed into different shapes. We have a couple of empties now. We should use them to dig slit trenches for the latrines."
Lyda nodded. “I had planned on digging holes. What's the purpose of the slit trench?"
“They just make it easier to, uh, use and easier to back-fill as they get full. I'll get a couple of guys to do that, if it's okay with you."
“Sure. What else?"
“Well, you're a smart girl but you just haven't lived long enough, nor have enough experience to know a lot of things, even though your instincts are right. You're doing fine, but you're going to need to delegate some things and not spread yourself too thin. That's standard technique in the army and the business world both."
Lyda was offended, but only for a moment because she knew he was right. “I guess that makes sense. Sort of like a teacher appointing kids to do different things in the classroom, huh?"
“Somewhat, but in this situation, you need to delegate authority, as well as responsibility. The two go together. It won't help to put someone in charge of the water, for instance, unless you back them up and let everyone know that person has the authority—and that they're acting for you. See how it works?"
Lyda thought about it. What he said made sense—but could he be trusted? Well, it was obvious she would have to trust some people. Gary appeared to think like her father. Dad usually made good decisions, even when she didn't like them. “Uh huh. I don't know the people who came in with you very well yet. You'll have to help me choose."
“Talked myself right into that one, didn't I? All right, I do know most of these people and we need to get it set up soon. There's nothing worse than a mob."
“Willy is a good man, even if he isn't too smart. And he will do exactly like I tell him to."
“Fine. There's a couple of the guys and one of the women who won't mind taking some responsibility, too, if you ask them. The others will follow along, I think."
“Good. Let's go do it now. No, wait a minute. Priorities. What duties need to have someone in charge of them? There's no sense telling someone they're the sand monitor or in charge of the new shoes department."
Gary laughed. “See? I told you that you had the right instincts. Let's get together with your aides and the ones I mentioned and sort out what needs to be done. They may have some suggestions, too. Is that okay?"
“Uh huh. Thanks. I'm glad you're here, Gary."
“One more thing. I've been calling you Miss Brightner for a reason. Anyone in a position of authority needs a title. I'll get others to start doing it too. How's that?"
Lyda thought about it for a moment and nodded. As they went to gather up Maryanne and Jacob and the ones Gary thought would work out, Lyda reminded herself that just because she found herself in charge of a bunch of adults, that didn't mean she could order them around like servants. Adults wouldn't stand for it. Even kids would rebel if she got too big for her britches.
* * * *
There was another round of shots after dark. Lyda thought they sounded nearer but couldn't be sure. A wind had come up and the blowing dust made it hard to even tell what direction the noise came from. It made her think of something that had come to mind earlier, then got lost in the press of other duties. The first thing next morning, she asked Gary to get a couple of the other men who had nothing to do yet and start them breaking some of the bigger scrap rocks into fragments. Ones that came out pointed could be used as hand axes, like she had seen on a National Geographic program once. Others could be used as weapons by simply throwing them. She even took one of the sharp stones herself, despite the comforting feel of the pistol in her pocket.
Two other scared, tattered women stumbled into camp late that morning, pointed toward them by a man and woman Lyda had sent out to look for refugees not already belonging to one gang or another. Lyda gave the tired women water and a food brick and took them aside while they ate and drank ravenously. She had Maryanne listen with her. They told of fighting between several groups, one led by a monster they called Big Bill, who was making slaves of young women. Lyda wasn't surprised at that. The two women had run from one gang when Big Bill's minions attacked it, only to be captured and raped by men from another. They had managed to escape after dark and had been wandering all night.
Lyda assured them nothing like that would happen here, as long as she was in charge. After that, she found Gary and told him to start organizing for a fight, men and women both. She knew now that one would come sooner or later. Their camp was situated by a stone outcrop similar to ones where other supply ovens were found. The gangs would come to them once they controlled others in the vicinity. Or perhaps even before that. The next morning when she woke up, Gary came to tell her Char
lie was missing from the morning roll call he had instituted. She had appropriated a spot away from the food machine but still in sight of it, a little alcove in the big rock she made into her “office". The others had named it for her and it was already a symbol of her leadership.
“What does Dorothy say? Have you talked to her?"
“I looked her up before I came to you. She says they had an argument and haven't been speaking since.” Gary shrugged. “I guess she's right; I haven't seen them together the last day or so. No big loss, if you ask me."
Lyda wasn't so sure about that. “It depends on where he went. I had hoped we could keep this place to ourselves for the time being and bring others in gradually. If he goes to one of the gangs..."
Gary rubbed his whiskers. “There's that. Anyway, Dorothy told me she was getting ready to leave him before all this happened."
“That's more than she told me,” Lyda said.
“Yeah. Lots of things adults talk about you don't hear. Not necessarily trying to keep secrets from you, but some of them still think of you as a child."
“I am a child,” Lyda said, suddenly on the brink of tears. Angrily, she shook her head. “I hadn't even had a date yet, but damn it, no sooner was I was dumped out here when I got ... raped. And then ... then I was going to be traded like a piece of meat to a damn pervert of some kind, like the ones who kidnap little girls and kill them after doing all kinds of bad stuff to them. I'm having to grow up sooner than I thought I would."
“So that's how it was. Miss Brightner, all I can say is that I'm sorry as hell it happened to you. And listen—you are growing up fast. Kids have to in this sort of environment. Just try to remember that most people are okay if you give them a chance—but most people will also go whichever way the wind blows. You're the wind right now; most of the folks here will follow you because you're doing a good job regardless of your age. Stay with it."
“I intend to,” Lyda said. “I'm not going to let anyone go through what I had to that first day, not if I can help it."
Gary was silent for a moment, thinking. “You know, it wouldn't hurt to let everyone know what happened to you—and that you managed to not only escape, but get this place organized and functioning like a group should. It would help enhance your status."
