by Dave Conifer
“Nic, we have to go!” Elise told her. Jim had already pushed past Nicolette Finley and was inside, yelling at everybody to wake up. “Another invasion!” Elise said to Nic. As she said the words, she heard the engines again. The bandits were on the move.
Nic joined them as they ran through the house waking up the girls. Elise told them not to wait if they were ready to bug out. “Into the woods across the street!” she ordered them. “We’re right behind you!” The engines were getting louder.
Elise’s own daughter finally appeared on the second-floor landing with her best friend, Anna Li. Both wore long nightgowns and sported bare feet. Not the best clothing for running and hiding, but it was too late to change that. “Come on!” she yelled as she waved them down. “We have to go!”
The sound of the engines was loud enough now that she knew they were on the street. It might be too late. Her heart sank when she looked out the front door and saw a ragged column of Slumber Party girls straggling down the steps and walking hurriedly across the street. The trail led right into the house. She ran onto the porch. “Run!” she yelled at the girls. A pickup truck came into view before the last girls had disappeared between two houses on the other side of the street. Sue Carlin froze in place halfway down the front steps as two battered pickup trucks screeched to a stop directly in front of the house. Men poured out over the side of the truck bed and approached the house, each with a rifle in his hand.
“Hey there, pretty!” one shouted at Sue. “Coming out to play?” Another two followed the other girls toward the woods.
Elise studied the man as she grabbed Sue and pulled her inside, slamming the front door behind her. She thought she could see through the costume he wore, consisting of the ratty beard, huge paunch and the dark, threatening clothing. If he was empty-handed, she thought she could take him in a fight. Six months ago he was probably an overweight bank manager wishing he’d gone for the gusto instead of choosing the safe path through life. Now he was making up for that. He’d joined up with these thugs and could do whatever he wanted.
Even before she’d begun shooing the remaining girls back upstairs, the door was shattered within its frame and flew open with a crash. Three of the hoodlums shoved their way inside, where they stood among the splinters of wood and broken glass. Jim walked toward them and had just started to say something when one of them swung his rifle like a baseball bat, striking him in the temple. He dropped to the floor like a rag doll, blood already coating the side of his face.
The three remaining girls scurried back upstairs, but Elise held her ground there on the landing. If she slowed them down the girls could hide, or maybe even find a way to get out. Obviously tantalized by the treasure that was within their grasp, the men bolted up the stairs, their boots pounding on every step. When Elise futilely held her hands out to block them, one punched her in the face and shoved her against the wall, where she collapsed in a semi-conscious daze.
Sprawled on her side, blood dripping from her nose and mouth, she could make out some of the chilling conversation grunted by the men as they searched the rooms on the second floor.
“We’re supposed to be getting food!” one protested.
“And we will!” another said. “You know what they say about all work and no play, right?”
Hearing a groan, she looked down and saw that Jim was still alive. He’d rolled onto his stomach and was in the process of fighting his way to his hands and knees. Blood and teeth fell out of his mouth and landed with a sickening splat on the floor. Surprised that he’d survived the blow to his head, she willed him to go back down and play possum. At this point, the best he could hope for was simply to live through this. There was nothing he could do to change what was happening.
Now she heard the girls screaming. They’d been found. She tried to push herself to a sitting position, but something was wrong with her arm. It wouldn’t work. “Hey,” one of the men shouted. She could hear his voice over the screaming and scuffling. “After we’re done, let’s take ‘em home with us!”
She redoubled her efforts to get up, and was on her knees when another man ran inside. Jim, on one knee while holding his head in his hands, didn’t seem to be aware that somebody had entered. That changed when the new man belted him in the chin, sending him sprawling onto his back. Seeing her on the landing, the man rambled up the stairs. She pleaded with her eyes for him to intervene, to stop this. Maybe he has a daughter. Not of that mind, he instead kicked her in the head, dropping her violently back to the floor. This time she didn’t move again. For Elise Knight, the battle was over.
~~~
When she finally came back to consciousness, the news wasn’t good. All four of the girls left in the house, including her own daughter and that of her best friend, Jane, were gone. Nobody had any doubt as to why they were gone, or who had taken them away. The pain and helplessness, and even shame that Elise felt was worse than anything she’d ever experienced. There was now a new bond between the mothers of the abducted girls. Until they were brought home, or at least until they’d learned of their fates, the bond would remain.
Three
Twenty minutes after Carlo had sent Nick to summon the troops, members were lined up at the Armory, where they were issued rifles and ammunition. It was a familiar scene, and it underscored Nick’s belief that a change was needed. But now was not the time, he reminded himself as he stood next to Matt Shardlake and waited for orders. There were more pressing matters at hand.
The pressing matters arrived before the orders. A volley of arrows rained down on the throng of newly-armed civilians as they milled around by the Armory waiting for orders. Most missed their target, some skidding harmlessly through the dirt or embedding themselves into the wall of the Armory. Several hit their mark. In a scene remarkably similar to what Nick had witnessed at the gate, four of their number were arrow-shot, two of whom listed over and fell to the ground as they screamed in pain.
“Get down!” Nick shouted at the rest of them. Judging by the arrows now protruding from the Armory wall, he knew the shooters were in the woods in the direction of the lake. Linda Brown had figured this out even faster than he had, and was already directing the stunned members to keep their heads down and crawl out of harm’s way behind the building.
Of the four victims, Nick knew only one of them, and not by name. One of the Hammonton refugees, he was still wearing his tool belt and hadn’t even been issued a rifle yet. He looked to be in his forties. About my age, Nick thought. “You’re good,” he told the nearest victim, who was watching helplessly with gritted teeth. “We’ve got you covered.” While maintaining his crouch, he held the downed man by his armpits and dragged him to safety. After seeing this, his cohorts rescued the three remaining victims in the same way.
Linda grabbed a man Nick recognized as being from Farming and spun him around to face her. “Go get somebody from Medical!” she shouted. He processed the order, decided to follow it, and scampered away toward the Medical Center.
“We gotta’ get into the woods and use these things!” Linda said excitedly to Nick as she held up her rifle. “I’ll take half of them this way!” she said, pointing across the open space into the woods where the arrows had come from. “You take the rest in behind the Armory. Spread out and shoot anything that’s not wearing a Sec Force uniform. Stay together so we don’t nail each other with friendly fire!”
“Okay!” Nick said. “But let’s leave a few with the wounded!” They quickly organized themselves and headed into the woods in opposite directions. Nick was secretly surprised when his half of the group followed when he ordered them into the woods, because he had no real authority over them. Del Ketch pushed his way forward to Nick’s side without a word as they probed. Before long they heard an arrow whistling through the trees and over their heads. Seconds later another passed to their right. But that was all. It was nothing like what they’d faced at the gate or back by the Armory. Maybe the invading group wasn’t as large as he feared.
“It came from that way!” somebody shouted. One person fired his weapon in that direction, and then it sounded like everybody else did the same, in one loud salvo. Nick divided the group again, sending them forward in different directions, but reminding them not to shoot towards each other no matter what. He could hear gunfire in the distance. That was probably good, he knew. The invaders didn’t seem to have many guns. Maybe we’re winning.
By then he’d fallen a dozen steps behind. Before he could catch up, they fired several more rounds each. Judging by the shower of bark and leaves that fluttered down from nearby trees, he guessed that whatever they’d been shooting at had escaped without a mark. Just in case, though, he maintained a buffer of space so he could watch the rear while they continued forward.
When he heard the pounding of footsteps to his left, and the unmistakable sound of somebody thrashing through the forest in his direction, he sprayed the area with a dozen rounds before taking cover behind a tree. This had to be the enemy, he was sure. None of his own people were over there. He flattened himself on the ground, realizing that they could be anywhere around him. Had he walked into a trap?
Despite the November chill he could feel his body sweating with tension under the layers of clothing he wore. After a few minutes of stillness, however, he began to wonder if he’d really heard anything at all. Occasionally he heard shots in the distance, probably fired by the groups he’d dispatched. Closer to where he was, including the space he’d just shot into, there was nothing.
There was only one way to find out, and it was better than lying there waiting to get shot. After cautiously standing, he took one last look around. Staying as low as he could, he crept toward the area he’d heard the sound from, stopping occasionally to hide and listen. Each time he sensed nothing to indicate that there’d been anybody out there at all.
He’d about convinced himself that the area was clear when he heard a low groan. After it was repeated several times he was able to track it to the trunk of a thick evergreen. His nerves tingling, he squatted behind a rotting hulk of log and checked his rifle again before training his eyes back on the source of the sound. Except for a steady beat of agonized moans, there was no activity. He made one last sweep of the area with his eyes before climbing to his feet and stepping over the log, all the while keeping the barrel of his rifle pointed directly at the tree.
After he’d closed half the distance he realized what a needless risk he was taking, charging ahead without cover or support. It was too late to turn back, though, and there was no longer anything to hide behind, so all he could was to keep advancing. Nothing moved, although he knew whoever was behind the tree could surely hear his footsteps.
Finally he reached shelter. The moaning had subsided by then. Now that he was closer, he saw a bloody, motionless arm at rest in the moss at the foot of the tree. Nearby was familiar sight, a wrapped bundle of venison that Nick knew had come from the Slaughterhouse. He’d stumbled across somebody who’d done nothing more than raided their stores of food, and had almost escaped. All he’d accomplished was the killing of a hungry man who was running away.
Or not. It had been quiet for half a minute, but then there was another groan. Whoever was behind that tree was still alive. The arm didn’t move, nor did anything else that Nick could discern. He was certain there was no danger. Even so, he hugged the tree as he slipped around to face whoever it was on the other side.
It wasn’t a pretty sight. The man was lying at the base of the tree, one of his legs splayed out at an awkward angle. Blood was seeping from two different wounds, one on his calf and another from his neck. Neither wound looked fatal, except for the heavy amounts of blood that soaked his clothes and the forest floor around him. After locking eyes with the man, Nick dumped the deer meat from the cloth wrappings and began tearing it into a tourniquet. As he began tying it around the man’s thigh, just above the knee, the man spoke, startling Nick.
“Don’t bother,” he whispered. “I’m toast. Slippin’ away.”
Nick tied it tight anyway. It couldn’t hurt. He had to try. “You’ll be all right,” he said, not believing a word of it.
Neither did the dying man. “Help my wife and daughters, instead,” he groaned. “Please.”
The man was fading fast, his voice reduced to a raspy hiss. Nick strained to listen as he finished off the knot. “Help my daughters. Please.”
“Uh, sure,” Nick said. “Where are they?”
“I was just trying to feed them,” the man said, his unfocused eyes looking past Nick into the forest. “Tell me you’ll help them.”
“I will,” Nick said. “Where are they?”
“Savoy Road,” the man whispered. “Lockworth.”
Nick was startled at the specific reply. This guy was serious about this. “What’s your name?” he asked without being sure why he was bothering.
“Moon,” the man mumbled. “Barton Moon. My wife is Christie.” His eyes were half closed now, and had rolled back in his head so far that Nick could only see the whites.
“Is she alone?” Nick asked. “I mean, with your daughters?”
“No,” Moon said. “She’s with the rest of ‘em.”
A thought struck Nick. “Wait, is that where these invaders came from?”
A labored, bloody cough delayed his answer. After Moon had gathered what strength he had left, he spoke again. “We’re not bad people,” he hissed slowly, blood now oozing from his mouth into his ratty beard. “No different than you. Just trying to save ourselves.” He laughed, or coughed, or both. “I’m a computer programmer. I never held a gun in my life until a few weeks ago.”
“How many people are we talking about?” Nick asked.
“’Bout a hundred,” Moon said. “Counting the women and children.” Nick grimaced as the man was racked by another gruesome spasm, this one spraying Nick with blood. “Promise me you’ll help them. Please.”
Nick didn’t see any harm in it. The man was about to die. It couldn’t hurt to give him some peace in his last moments. They were just words. “I will. I promise,” he said as he wiped Moon’s blood from his face.
Moon’s eyes closed. He was done. Nick could tell by the expression on his face that he’d understood that Nick had accepted the burden. And that troubled Nick. It troubled him a lot.
Four
Although it was a busy time, not a lot of work got done that day after the invasion was quelled. Even after victory was declared, Carlo and his Sec Forces couldn’t be completely sure that the woods had been cleaned out. Patrols were sent to comb the surrounding forest looking for any leftover danger. In the mean time, residents were not permitted to leave the central areas of the camp unless they were working with the Sec Forces.
Since he wasn’t, and his latest assignment wasn’t anywhere near the fringes of the camp, Nick climbed back onto the roof of the Bath House to continue the shingling job. It wasn’t long before he was joined by Nancy Shaughnessy, the reliable assistant and would-be apprentice who’d apparently been assigned to shadow him. He was glad to have her; in return for the knowledge and experience she was picking up, she provided steady, smart work and was good company to boot.
That afternoon, however, she quickly figured out that she should go light on the good company part. Nick was still upset about the man he’d shot and subsequently watched die in the forest, and wasn’t much for talking. Instead, he went about his work, as did Nancy, as campers came and went on the ground beneath them.
~~~
Penny Hellikson had been outside the borders of the camp when the trouble started, but she and the Farming subcommittee members had been escorted back as soon as they’d been located after the invaders showed up. They’d been busy marking out new fields they hoped would be approved for growing crops, with plowing starting in February. Their plan was to have the fields cleared of trees and brush before hard winter set in, which was why they’d been out there as soon as the sun came up that cold November morning. But like nearly everything e
lse going on that morning, it would have to wait for another day.
~~~
Until the bulk of the members had moved permanently to Tabernacle, nobody knew exactly what to expect at mealtime. While living at the temporary home at the middle school everybody ate breakfast and dinner in the cafeteria, a time that everybody learned to look forward to. In the camp, however, there was no gathering place big enough for that. Instead, members picked up their meals at the Food Distribution Center, the building that functioned as a dining hall in the camp’s earlier life, to be eaten back in the residential cabins over in the Village.
That system proved to be unpopular; campers wanted to relax and eat together at the end of a long hard day. It wasn’t long before makeshift dining areas sprung up among the cabins. In most cases the tables in these spots, built by members on their own time, were large enough to hold several cabins-worth of friends, of both the old and new variety. It was at just such a table, outside the cabin of Tom and Penny Hellikson, that the members of the Outhouse Coalition took their dinner every night, and planned to continue to do until it was too cold.
Dewey and Sarah, still recovering from their injuries suffered a month earlier, had been released from the Medical Center and were now living and eating with their friends in the Village. That meant that everybody from the Outhouse Coalition was now there. Sometimes it bothered Nick that his group stayed to themselves so much, rather than mingling with the others and building new friendships. But mostly he knew that kind of thinking was silly. There was plenty of mingling going on all day when campers were out working with their subcommittees, which had been established with no consideration at all for prior relationships. There was no harm in seeking out close friends and family when it was time to break bread.
