by Rob Buckman
"June. What are we going to do?" Mary-Elin asked as she walked up to where June sat, looking into the distance. June looked up at her with tired eyes.
"Do about what."
"Well, what that man said."
"Didn't you hear him? We’re all dead, according to him, and he isn't far wrong." She wanted to scream, shout, and break something, anything but sit here knowing Decker was right.
"But we're not. We're still alive." Mary-Elin protested.
"Are we? Hiding in a bombed-out building. Scavenging what supplies we can find, but for how long? If Sergeant Decker is right, and the alien's put 'boots on the ground' as he puts it, and start a house to house search for survivors, how long do you think we’ll last?" She hissed.
"We could hide in the woods or something."
"And do what? As Decker said, we have no way of knowing if the aliens will kill us or capture us. Do they want humans alive as slaves, or do they just want to exterminate us?"
"I don't know." Mary-Elin shot back, angry and frustrated at her inability to do something.
"Neither do I." June snapped, out of patients with her.
"Won't he help us?" June sighed, much as Decker had.
"He's one man, hundreds of miles from any help, with a hundred and twenty, soft, pampered women who don't know a fucking thing about surviving in the wilderness." Mary-Elin looked shocked at hearing June swear. "As much as I hate to agree with him. Sergeant Decker is right. We are all dead, damn him." June looked up to see tears in Mary-Elin's eyes, suddenly seeing what Decker must have seen. She stood, pushing the chair back as she did.
"If all you can do is start crying, you are no good to yourself or anyone else." It was cruel, but as Decker said, they were dead if they didn’t suck it up. For a moment, Mary-Elin’s face looked shocked, as if she couldn’t believe what she’d just heard.
"Screw you, June Landers. You always were a fucking snotty nose bitch." Mary-Elin yelled as she stomped away. It didn't take long before a sense of doom settled over the group as the word spread, accompanied by the sound of sobbing, and crying as people drifted to dark places to hide.
"Damn you to hell, Decker. Why did you have to come here?" June muttered, on the verge of tears of self-pity herself.
It would have been better if the aliens had just found and killed them than to exist in this limbo between living and dying. At least they would have died in ignorance, thinking a rescue team was on its way. The one thing that struck her was Decker's comment about a package. That was a bit of a mystery, as she had no idea what he was talking about. Her husband told her that they were sending a rescue mission because… but he really hadn’t said why, now she thought about it, and on closer examination, why would the military waste time and manpower rescuing a hundred odd civilian women trapped in the middle of nowhere in the first place. They had bigger problems on their hands besides rescuing a bunch of trapped civilians. There must be groups like this scattered all over the countryside, so why send a rescue team here? Moreover, what was one lone British soldier doing thousands of miles from England?
…We know the sheep live in denial, which is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe there is evil in the world… LTC (RET) D. Grossman
CHAPTER THREE: COME TO JESUS MEETING
Decker came awake hours later to the sound of weeping, feeling disgusted with himself and this bunch of crying women. What the hell did they expect him to do, wave his hand and make all this disappear? It wouldn’t go away, and nothing he could do would change that. Taking two MRE's out of his ‘Bergen’, he stomped back upstairs to the table where he'd talked with June Landers earlier, still in a foul mood about what he was thinking. It was getting dark outside, by the look of the light filtering in through the cracks. Here and there, candles burned, but it didn’t matter, as the aliens didn't seem to care one way or the other right now. He found June Landers sitting behind the same table, morosely looking into a cup as if trying to divine the future.
"How are your people off for food?" He asked as he sat. June looked up, cocking her head to one side.
"If it matters to you, we scavenge enough supplies from the warehouses each night to keep us going."
"You go out at night and scrounge?"
"Yes. Daylight is too dangerous."
"If you say so." He shrugged.
"Wait. You mean you traveled during daylight?"
"Half and half. My helmet has night vision built in."
"Did you see anybody or aliens?"
"Only their ships. The trick is not to move when they fly over."
"So, what now?" She asked. Decker looked at her for a moment as he ate his beef stew, savoring the taste. Even if he didn't want to admit it, June Landers had hit a nerve when she'd reminded him of his duty. He looked around, feeling even more depressed.
"Have you heard the story about the wolf and the sheepdog?" He said at last.
"No, can't say I have."
"A long time ago in Germany, or so the tale goes, a sheep farmer lost a lot of his sheep to wolves, so he went hunting. He found the wolf pack and killed them all, but in their den, he found several cubs. Being a kindly old man, he didn't have the heart to kill them, so he took them home and raised them alongside the little lambs. Soon after, he trained them as sheepdogs to protect his flock, and it didn't take long before the other wolves learned not to attack his sheep."
"Smart man."
"One day a neighbor came running up to his house shouting the wolves had his flock surrounded. The old man laughed and said those aren’t wolves. Those are my sheep dogs."
"Your point."
"My point is, sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between the wolves and the sheepdog."
"Ahh! I see, and you’re a sheepdog." Decker nodded as he swallowed the last mouthful.
"For nigh on eighteen years I've stood between you and the darkness. Done all the dirty work, so nice people like you, and these women could sleep safe in your beds at night. I've protected the flock… until now." Decker stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. "I failed. The darkness came, and we were powerless to stop it. I couldn't protect you…" He stopped, swallowing the choking sensation in his throat.
"And you couldn't even protect the ones you loved the most." June whispered. Decker crushed the MRE packet in his hand, jaw clenched.
"No, I couldn't."
"I'm sorry." Decker's face darkened, and he thought to throw her sympathy back in her face. Then relaxed.
"Thank you."
"And now?" She asked. He looked at her a moment, debating with himself one last time.
He looked around the room at the sad faces of the women, seeing a few shoot him an occasional look. They ranged from anger, to hopeful despair, and it came home to him what Dave Grossman said in his book ‘On killing’. Most of the people in any society are sheep. He meant nothing negative by calling them sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident. Then there are the wolves, and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy. Most people don’t want to believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock, or men out there capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget it or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial. For now, they needed warriors like him to protect them from the predators. The sheep rarely like the sheepdog because he looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for bloody violence. The difference, though, is the sheepdog must not, cannot, and will not harm the sheep. Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder of the wolves in the land. The sheep would much rather the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, ‘Baa’. Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog.
Here, he was the lonely sheepdog they were trying to hide behind. His gut instinct told him to run. Get away from this place as fast as possible. He knew without thinking this bunch of women was nothing more than a pain in the butt. On his ow
n, he had a slim chance of surviving, but if he tried to help them, he knew he’d regret it. If he didn’t, their sad faces would haunt him for the rest of his life. No matter how long or short that life would be. His sense of duty said he must help them, even though he was no longer required to do so. He was born a sheep dog and no matter how much he wanted to run away, he couldn’t. He could no more abandon them than a sheepdog can abandon its flock, even when the shepherd wasn’t around anymore. Speaking of dogs, the two German shepherds lay by the table looking listless and underfed.
“Who owns the Shepherds?” He asked, looking at June.
“Oh, they belong to a Master Sergeant from the base, but he left with the others.”
“Someone needs to feed them, as they look about half starved.”
“They are. They won’t eat, no matter what we put in front of them.” It didn’t surprise Decker as he’d seen it before. Dogs become so attached to their owner, when he left them, they wouldn’t eat. On a thought, he warmed up the second MRE and divided it up on two plates once it was hot. Once or twice, he saw their noses twitch, and looking up they both licked their chops. He ignored them and placed the plate on the floor beside his chair. At first, they looked at him, then the plate of food.
“If you want it, you’ll have to come and get it.” He said, speaking in a soft voice before turning to look around the room.
To say the view was depressing was an understatement. The women lay or sat around in small groups, most dirty, disheveled, hugging each other for comfort. Others just curled up in a fetal ball in a dark corner, and he knew they’d mentally given up. Only one woman looked animated, even angry, but at who or what he didn’t know. She sat by herself at another table, sharpening a K-bar knife with a 9 mm Berretta close at hand. Decker rubbed his unshaven chin, calling himself six kinds of fool for what he was thinking. No matter what he did, he might be able to extend their lives by a few weeks, maybe a month, if they were lucky. He looked at June Landers, seeing the worry lines around her eyes and mouth and knew the load she was untrained to carry. Being responsible for organizing a tea party for her husband, or the bridge club was one thing. Making decisions affecting their lives, and maybe cause the death of a hundred or so women was something else. Decker still wasn’t sure he wanted the responsibility either.
He sat there sipping his coffee and looking into the distance, absently stroking the scar over his left eyebrow, courtesy of a Jihadist who thought it was fun to beat the shit out of him every morning. At first, he stroked it to relive the pain after they’d stitched him up back at base, now it was just a nervous habit when thinking. Right now, he was considering his options. One, he could try walking across the USA to the East Coast; find a sailboat and get back to England. He rated his chances of success at a thousand to one against. Choice number two wasn’t much better. He could try to walk back to Peterson Air Force Base about 1,651 nautical miles, or 2,170 miles by road. Not only was the distance a problem, he didn’t even know if the base still existed. The aliens had already hit the place, and once they realized humans were still using it, they’d probably hit it again. The only remaining choice was the base at ‘Norden’, and he didn’t even know if the place still existed. What bothered him the most was the women trapped here all alone, and what to do about them? Could he in truth just walk off and leave them? Taking the last swallow of his now cold coffee, he looked at June Landers.
"When I woke up I had this strange thought, and the more I thought about it the stranger and more idiotic it got." He said at last, for better or worse, his decision made.
"Tell me."
"You’re not going to like it." Decker scratched his beard and blew his cheeks out.
"I don't doubt it, but what choice do I have?"
"None." His second thought was. He had to be completely insane to even consider saying what he was about to say, let alone doing it.
"Go on."
"As of this moment I'm in charge. Everyone will do what I say without question." Decker expected to see outrage, or a look of disgust at his suggestion, but June just nodded, as a look of profound relief swept across her face.
"Okay, and?"
"Get the girls… ladies, women, females, or whatever the politically correct term is nowadays lined up. I need to talk to them."
Decker knew from the look on June's face this was way over her head. She hadn't a clue what to do, and was probably praying he'd take the responsibility. Well, he was, and he wasn't. June gave him an odd look and nodded, and went to pulled the women out of their dark corners, still crying, others beyond caring, pushing and cajoling them into a semblance of order. As she did, Decker eyed the dogs, smiling slightly, seeing them both chasing the empty plate across the floor as they licked them clean. Once they had, they both looked at him as if asking for more. He reached out his hand, but drew back when the big male laid his ears back, a sure sign he wasn’t pleased.
“Okay, I understand. You take your time.” They backed off as he stood, seeing June had the women in reasonable order. Now it was time for a come-to-Jesus meeting, and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
"They are all yours, Sergeant Decker." She said at last, standing off to one side. It placed her in a position, at least mentally, where she could pretend whatever happened from now on was none of her doing, and wasn't her fault.
"All right. Now listen up, all of you. I will only say this once." He still didn't have their full attention, and pulling his sidearm, he put a round into the ceiling. The ear numbing report cut across the weeping and they stood there looking at him, wide eyed.
"First of all, knock off all the fucking sniveling and crying. It’s time for the weeping and whining to stop!"
"Easy for you to say." A wet eyed young girl, about sixteen years old near the front shouted back.
Holstering his weapon, Decker ripped a blade off his harness and strode over to the girl, pushing people out of his way. The girl moved back, away from him, wide eyed in fear as he grabbed her by the hair and held the knife to her throat.
"Get this, you stupid little bitch. The days of you mouthing off to people in charge are over. You want to crawl off and die somewhere, fine with me, or I can top you myself right here right now and save the aliens the trouble. Do you want to die?" He shouted into her face, holding the razor-sharp blade to her throat.
"No!" She screamed. A look of horror on her face. One look into those cold, gray, killer eyes and she knew he spoke the truth. The now livid white scar across his left eyebrow gave him a terrifying look. He could slit her throat right there, and not even blink an eye. Decker shoved her away and walked between the women.
"If anyone wants to die, speak up and I'll do you right here in front of everyone! If not, shut the fuck up, and knock off all the crying and sniveling." Now he had their full attention.
"Good. Now we have that settled, here's the way it will be." June shook her head slightly. Amassed they’d all stopped crying, faces now white with fear.
"As of this moment I am in sole charge. Meaning you do what I say, when I say, without question. Do you understand?" A few nodded, many looked at June Landers and saw her shrug.
“Don’t look at her! Look at me.” He shouted. They did.
"As of this moment I relinquish any authority I might have had over you to Sergeant Decker." All eyes flicked back to Decker.
“The time for feeling sorry for yourselves and the shitty deal life just handed you is over. Get used to it. It will not get any better from here on out. In fact it will probably get a lot worse.” As he spoke, Decker walked back and forth in front of them, much as he'd done while training raw recruits.
“For those of you who haven’t got it yet, we’ve been invaded by a bunch of alien mother fuckers from god knows where and they are not nice little glowing heart ET. Right now, there’s not a fucking thing the earth military can do about it. Things will not get better or go back to the way they were. This is your new reality so learn to live with it or die.” It wasn’t what they
wanted to hear or accept right now. It would come with time, and how each handled it was up to the individual person. As always, they’d learn to adapt or die.
“Life as you knew it is over. No more going to Starbuck’s for your morning coffee and a chat with the girls before going to the gym. No more supermarkets, movies, dry cleaning, cable news and anything you once knew, including toilet paper and toothpaste. It’s all gone and as of right now, this is your new normal. For those of you who are of the ‘Intelligent Design’ or Creationist camp, you are about to find out the truth about Darwin’s theory of evolution.”
