by Andrew Elgin
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Eager to see what happens next on Harmony? Read on for Chapter 1 of Seeds Of Harmony, Book 2 in the Harmony series.
Free Preview Of “Seeds Of Harmony”
Chapter 1
Larrick was on his hands and knees in the long grass at the back of one of the pigsties trying to find the hole in the wall where the rats were coming in. He had volunteered to do it so that he could spend some time on his own generally out of sight and have the chance just to stop for a while and rest a bit: enjoy the day for a change instead of working, working, working. He must have dozed off, for the sun was much higher now. He had started up guiltily before hunkering down and scuttling crab-like back to the pigsties in case anyone saw him. He was now poking around, his head close to the ground, looking for any holes when he heard the sound. It wasn't one he recognized, being more like a short, loud pop than anything else. Puzzled, he peered around the corner and saw someone looking as if they had tripped and fallen. He shook his head at the clumsiness of someone -- was it Haller laying there? -- tripping on flat ground. He was about to go and help, because it was obvious Haller wasn't moving, when he heard the same sound again, only this time it was followed by a cry of pain. Then he saw a strange, helmeted figure sidle from the sty with his or her back to him He, or she, was wearing camouflage. It was so strange to see, so out of place. But whoever it was was also carrying something high up, tucked into the shoulder. Larrick put his hand to his mouth in shock and fear. A weapon!
There were more explosive sounds which he now recognized as shots. The one soldier he could see still facing away from Larrick, walked slowly away from the stye and past Haller as the gun swung back and forth. Pausing briefly by Haller, the soldier pointed the weapon down and shot Haller twice in the head, causing the large body to spasm in reaction, bouncing slightly with each shot. The number of shots further away increased and so did the shrieks of fear and pain. There was some shouting but it seemed mainly to be from the soldiers calling to each other. The pigs began to squeal, adding to the calls of cows and sheep: a swelling noise drumming at Larrick's ears.
From where he was crouched, Larrick could only see Haller's body, now missing part of his head. Too numb with fear to move, he was unaware of the tears streaming down his face or the way his whole body was shaking. His breathing was ragged and he slumped against the wall, turning away from Haller, his neighbor. With each shot, each cry of anguish, each half-heard pleading voice, he shook and closed his eyes only to open them and stare sightlessly ahead before the next one.
Gradually, the shots came further and further apart and the soldiers' calls took on a less urgent tone. He had no idea how long he had been there. By now he was hugging his knees to him, too frightened to do anything. Finally, he heard some soldiers closer than the rest entering the stables closest to the pigsty.
"How many do you think there were here?" asked one young-sounding voice.
"I don't know. Fifty maybe? More than the last place anyway." This second voice sounded older, rougher. "Beats me why anyone would even want to live like this. Look at it. Dirt and rags and nothing else. No luxuries. And if you want something, you have to make it yourself. Absolutely crazy people. They're insane."
"But why do they do it? Live like this, I mean?"
"Because they're not right in the head, are they? Take a look at their homes for starters. Why would anyone choose to live inside earth walls and under grass roofs when you've got a perfectly decent town nearby? They have to be crazy. We did them a favor. They had to be dead inside to live like this. Dead inside but didn't know it."
There was a pause and the sounds of shuffling and cows protesting. "Are you any good at making these things move in the direction you want?" asked the young voice.
"Just give 'em a good slap on the rump to get 'em going, then prod 'em to keep 'em going. It's not hard." There was the sound of a slap and another cow protesting. "Ain't you ever seen a cow before?" There was incredulity in the voice.
"Not up close. Not like this."
"Well, let's get them loaded and then we'll come back and round up the pigs. They're the ones you have to watch out for."
"Why's that?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Now let's get going so's we can torch this place and finish with it."
The cattle made their feelings plain amidst the shouts and calls. Larrick listened to them until those sounds were lost amongst the general noise and confusion going on. He wanted to move, to do something, anything to prove to himself he was still alive, but he was locked in shock. He tried to say her name, to say 'Shelleer', but something in his throat caught and he could only gulp in spasms. All he could think of was the older voice talking about the pigs. They were coming back for the pigs and they would find him. And then they would kill him like they had killed all the others. But she wasn't here with him. She was dead. They had shot her and he hadn't even been able to recognize her voice.
Something inside of him at last let loose of his limbs and he found himself scrambling on hands and knees through the grass, heading for the bushes and, further, for the trees. There was no plan, only the urge to leave this behind and not be killed. Nothing else counted. He scrabbled on and on, his lungs screaming at him, every part of his body aching, bruised or cut. Only when he could no longer move, only then did he allow himself to think of her, of Shelleer, his wife, his beautiful, young wife. And the tears flowed as he thought of leaving her behind. The guilt of being alive crushed down on him and he hugged himself as he saw the smoke rising in the distance, knowing that his life was over. Nobody needed to shoot him. He was, as that soldier had said, dead inside. Dead. He knew it for certain.
He waited in misery until the soldiers had left and fire had died out and the smoke was only a few wisps before going back. He wanted to do... something. Say farewell? Apologize? Let them all know he would remember them?
The homes they had built had all been burned or pulled down. Fences had been torn out and the crops had been set on fire. But worst of all were the bodies. They lay where they had fallen. A few he recognized from their clothing, but the rats had also found them. They were still feasting when he arrived and he screamed and kicked at them. He wanted to find Shelleer, but also wanted not to. Then he recognized her hair: that long braid where ribbons twined in and out. She was facing away from him as he knelt, her limbs spread as if she was about to run, the ground around her dark from her blood. He stroked her hair and found he lacked the courage to see her face again. He tried to say something to her, to apologize for being alive without her, but his voice failed him. Looking around he felt useless and irrelevant; a helpless fool. He realized that there was nothing he could do or say here that would have any meaning at all, least of all to him. So he turned his back and left, empty of tears and of hope. If he was to die, it would be somewhere else; on his own and wrapped in his own guilt and shame.
He walked. The direction didn't matter. He kept walking away.
* * *
The story of Harmony continues in Seeds Of Harmony, Book 2 in the Harmony series.
Get your copy at your favorite online retailer.
About the Author
I was always drawn to history, as long as it was social history: about how people really lived. That was the most interesting part of the past for me. In addition, I was also strongly drawn to the things which were not easily explained or not well-understood. Here, things like fairy-tales and legends entered into my awareness. And poetry also, for me, was a way of seeking to explain the inexplicable. The phenomenon of the mind became deeper and more mysterious the more I discovered.
Essentially, I like the limits of what we think we 'know' and 'understand'. Those limits are, for me, where the most interesting things happen and where the most interesting things are waiting to be explored.
But, let's not overlook humor. I love humor and I love what can often be called 'zany' (ugly word) or 'surreal' (not a helpful word, either) humor where it takes off in unexpected directions. The
same idea of limits as above, but arrived at differently.
I spent a whole lot of time teaching. It happened. Some of it was fun, much of it wasn't, but I was too dumb to strike out in a different direction for far too long.
But, here I am now.
Visit my website at http://andrewelgin.com and get free samples of my writing, subscribe to the blog and get notified about discounts on books.
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