by Reed, N. C.
“What happened two days ago was not unusual, except that these men were better trained and armed, and better equipped that those we faced before. We have been attacked numerous times since the lights went out, by well over three hundred people at one time or another. But remember this; we're still here. They, are not.”
“Once your basic training and education is finished, then you'll be put through the same course that Zach, one of the men who freed you, and the other young men his age went through. It is much harder than what the average person here on the farm had to endure, because that course is intended to make you harder, stronger and tougher. Designed by commandos to make commandos. Fighters, as you called it. Not just soldiers, but killers. Men, and women, who can venture out into the world we now live in and perform operations such as freeing you from your captors. Four men did that. Just four. If you want to make a difference, that's where it starts.”
“Before you start, understand one thing and understand it now, from the beginning. We require absolute loyalty to this community. Not to me, Clayton Sanders, or to my father, Gordon, or to any other one person or family, but to the community we've built here, as a whole. If you betray us, we will kill you,” he said flatly. “Our families are at risk here, and we will not allow anyone who puts them in harms way to survive. If you're part of that community, then that will extend to you as well. We look after our own. We also avenge our own.”
“If you're looking for the good guys wearing the white hats and fighting for love, honor, and shit like that, we're the wrong people,” he told them flatly. “We're not heroes, we're not gunfighters, we're not knights. We're not particularly good people in some cases, and sadly, one of us even used to be a Marine,” he finally interjected some humor.
“Fuck you,” Holloway muttered just loud enough for them to hear, and they all laughed. They all needed it.
“There will be times when you hurt so bad you'll stop feeling it” he warned them. “When you're so tired that you can't sleep. Times when you are so afraid you don't think you can move. So dirty your skin crawls. Times when you're certain that just one more tiny thing will send you into a screaming fit. We've all been there, and expect to be there again. Hopefully not for a week or so, but we never know. But if you stick with us, eventually you'll feel it, too.”
“You will also eventually see someone you know die in battle,” his voice took on a somber note. “They may see you die. That's part of it, and I don't know of any way to stop it. If I did, I would have used it long ago. We will train you as hard and as well as we can, and make you the best possible combatant you are capable of being. But sometimes the enemy does the same thing, and once in a while they do something right, too.”
“So before any of you step up, make sure you can keep up. It takes more than just muscle or a good eye or steady hand. It takes guts. The ability to pick yourself up by the bootstraps and keep going when what you'd rather do is just stop and let whatever happens, happen. We are all that each other has, ladies. No one is coming to help, or save the day. They would have been here by now if they were. I don't know what's going on elsewhere in the world, and I can't be concerned about it because I've got all I can manage right here. My family, my friends, their families, all come first. The people on this farm are my sole priority. If you stay here, then you have to become a part of that.”
He paused for a full minute, looking from one face to the next, making sure to make eye contact with each woman.
“With all that in mind,” he continued finally, “if any of you have changed your mind, had second thoughts, decided things don't looks quite so good as you thought, then now is the time to say so. You can go to Jordan if you want, assuming they will take you, and I can't promise that, or you can stay here and work for your keep at something, I'm sure. It's a farm, so there's always work to do.”
“But, if you're still determined, and I haven't scared you off, then form a line against the far wall and we'll get started.”
For a few seconds, he thought they had all changed their minds as no one moved. He almost smiled, deciding that some of them might have some sense after all. Then they began to stir.
Powers was the first on her feet. She met his eyes, a firm, determined look on her face as she took the first place along the wall. Behind her the others climbed to their feet and followed, forming a line down the wall until all of them were standing there, waiting.
Clay turned to Jose and Greg and nodded, then left without another word, leaving several of the young women blinking in surprise. Greg Holloway waited until he was gone before producing a map and walking forward.
“Ladies, come and let us get your home marked on the map,” he told them. “Once we do, we can organize operations to take you to get your things and inspect your neighborhoods. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can get done.”
-
“We don't have the manpower,” Jose's pronouncement fell flat on Clay's desk of other problems.
“What are we short on?” he asked.
“Muscle,” Jose shrugged. “We can, barely, muster the security and the transport, but... we're down six people, including three of the ball players, plus we've lost Goodrum until he heals. We're having to use Brick more and more for security until we get some of the others back from the infirmary, and Jake is well, but he's still just one guy. Cliff still has a hand in a cast. And we have got to keep enough people here to defend this place.”
“Let them do it,” Greg offered, having said nothing until this point.
“What?” Jose asked, turning. “Let who do what?”
“Let the girls do it themselves,” Greg shrugged. “They're all in good shape, and they want to be soldiers. Let them show how tough they are. Instead of leaving behind the ones whose homes we aren't visiting, take them all. Let them help each other do the loading and lifting and searching around their neighborhoods. It's a good team building exercise among other things. And if someone can't hack it at this, there's no reason to waste time trying to train her up. Separate the wheat and chaff without wasting the class space. There's others on this farm who can probably make it and we should eventually train them all that way if they can hack it and want to go through.”
Clay didn't reply at once, running all that through his head. He knew that Abby would jump at the chance, or at least would have at one point. Nathan, Nate Caudell's nephew, would also be likely as not to want to do it, and so might Marcy George. Sam might even be interested, he didn't know. But Greg had an excellent point about the women Clay was still, at least to himself, calling the Amazon platoon. Why let them sit here waiting, when they could be helping each other. Learning how to work at as a team from the very beginning.
“I like it,” he said finally. “On all points. They can lend one another a hand and do the work themselves. We may even let them do the lion's share of the work on the new bunkhouse. Good strength and endurance training if nothing else. They don't want to be treated as flowers, so we won't. Tell Abby she can go if she wants, and let Sam go as well, but only if she asks. She's not as gung ho as Abby, or at least she wasn't. We'll leave that up to her. Anything else?”
“We're still inventorying the gear we captured as well as the supplies. That crowd may not have had a warehouse full of goods, but what they did have was quality gear. They were getting it from someone with access to a warehouse, somewhere,” Jose looked grim.
“Nothing we can do about that,” Clay shrugged. “We'll use it against them and that's about the best we can hope for. Someone somewhere may get to missing that outfit and come looking for them, though. We need to be aware of that and make sure everyone else is, too. Stranger danger and what not. And I think once we've finished with these runs to gather belongings for the young women, we'll make use of those log trailers at Jake's old place. Block the road like some suggested. Maybe make it look like a jack-knife or something instead of an actual road block. You guys be thinking that over. We're going to have to reorganize our operation at som
e point I guess,” he frowned a bit. “We're taking on a lot of new things and people. If you have ideas about it, let me know. Whatever we can do to streamline things, we need to try and do.”
“You know, if you really want to test their mettle, there's always that brier fence we've been working on in our spare time,” Greg chuckled.
“I'd forgotten that, with everything else going on,” Clay smiled, shaking his head. “We're what? A third finished maybe? At best?”
“Somewhere along there, I think,” Jose nodded slowly, trying to remember himself. “Abby will know for sure, I imagine. It's her project.”
“We'll look at it when the running is done,” Clay promised. “Meanwhile, you guys have a lot to do.”
“Yes, Sahib,” Jose bowed. They had changed up on him.
“Get out, you pricks.”
-
It took five days of running, sweating and worrying for the trucks and their escorts to visit the homes of each woman. Many of them lived in the same general neighborhood, which helped greatly, but it was still fifteen different homes, not to mention dozens of others where the women thought they might find usable items. Homes that had belonged to neighbors killed when their community was attacked and them taken captive.
Ellen Kargay and Roddy Thatcher drove each day and then helped with the loading. When livestock was expected to be present, Roddy pulled the hauler and Abby and Kurtis Montana went along to assist with that. When there was no livestock, then both trucks pulled box trailers to allow more to be moved in one trip.
Every evening the trucks were emptied, and every night Kandi and the Twins inventoried and logged everything that was brought in aside from the women's personal property. Usable furniture was included when possible, including bedding and sofas especially, but also chests and wardrobes, particularly cedar constructs. One day they would be back to using such things to keep moths away.
Another thing that was never left behind was pillows, blankets and quilts. Winters could be bitterly cold and modern heating and insulation were no longer a sure thing. Every little bit would help.
Where possible, those who had been killed were laid to rest, but in most cases scavengers and insects had already been at work. It was difficult for them to see, but something else that was considered a valuable lesson. This could be you if you didn't work hard enough. Didn't train hard enough. Clay honestly expected some to quit after that, but instead they seemed to toughen up and close ranks, supporting each other rather than letting anyone quit.
The farm made some livestock gains as well, the most important of which, at least to Clay, were eleven donkeys, four males and seven females. Jacks were as good a guardian against predators as even the Kangals, and every one of them that the farm added was viewed as a blessing.
The second most wonderful gain came in the form of two small but sturdy herds of swine. 'Delicious bacon on the hoof' as Titus had called them, laughing. They had a few pigs, but only a few. Adding almost fifty more to their herd caused some extra work, but no one who enjoyed pork voiced a single complaint. And, if a few were seen licking their lips and rubbing their hands at the sight of so many nice piggies, well, everyone else was probably doing the same thing.
Nineteen horses were also collected, though there were no stallions in the group. That was fine, since there were an even dozen good mares of bearing age in the mix and the farm already had nine good stallions of different breeds. With the horses had come fourteen saddles and even more sets of tack, bridles and bits, all of which were sorely needed. Seven of the young women owned at least one of the horses and was a rider, including one calf roping competitor. Clay made a note of her as someone to add to the cattle working team.
A lot of odd and end rifles, shotguns and handguns were collected, along with a good supply of ammunition. Some might have been surprised to see so much ammunition still available, but this was the south and most homes kept more than a few rounds. Four complete reloading operations were also taken along with all their supplies.
Hand tools too numerous to mention, bicycles, lawnmowers and string trimmers that still functioned, all of which had small engines that could be used for many other things, tool sets, clothing and shoes of all shapes, sizes and descriptions, some of which were admittedly useless now save for the material they contained, medicines and medical supplies, flatware and silverware, including some real silver, and more than one safe that contained gold and silver coins of various denominations. Jewelry that would be examined later on, some to one day be used as trade, with others to be saved for future couples to use for marriages.
Books. So many books. Bibles, schoolbooks, trade books, tech manuals, how to books, blank note books, pencils... all of these things that were not going to be made for the foreseeable future, taken from the homes of people who had been murdered and left laying because they lacked 'real worth'.
Those words were burned into each young woman's mind as she worked. The only reason they weren't laying there themselves was because someone, somewhere, had wanted them because they were young women. While revulsion was common at the thought, so was rage. Pure, unadulterated rage at the sheer waste and the hate that had led to it. Through it all, the soldiers casually encouraged them to bank that rage against the future and save it as motivation for the days when their training was almost more than they could bear. To remember why they had chosen the path they were now on.
As they worked themselves into the ground loading trucks and trailers with their own and other goods, they did just that.
But they spared a little time for other things as well.
-
“Why heat it?” Zach asked as he sat behind the machine gun on the Cougar. Xavier was sitting next to him, knife in hand, taking the moment to teach his protege new things.
“Because so long as the blade remains hot enough, it will serve to cauterize the wound and prevent excessive bleeding while still causing excruciating pain,” Xavier replied. “Pain is one of the most fundamental keys in prompting someone to reveal information to you, Zachary.”
“What is another?” Zach asked from curiosity.
“Threats against one's family are actually often a greater inspiration than pain to one's self,” Xavier replied as easily as if telling Zach the best way to make a cup of tea. “Assuming they care for their family, of course,” he added thoughtfully.
“Yeah,” Zach nodded slowly as he looked around them, checking the area. “Yeah, I can see that.”
“As I was saying, there are areas of the body one must avoid until ready to end things permanently,” Xavier continued where he had left off. “Main arteries, veins, certain nerve bundles. The nerve bundles can actually provide an entirely different avenue of approach so long as they are used properly. Applied blunt force is best, so long as it is done with control. Too much can kill, sometimes in an instant. You must also remember never to puncture them as well, since that will also cause near instantaneous death, which will naturally prevent you from retrieving the information you are requesting.”
“Oh, naturally,” Zach laughed out loud at that, drawing a few odd looks from the new people and more than one eye roll from the old hands.
Kim Powers had been stealing glances at Zach Willis as he sat atop what she called an armored car, behind a machine gun that was almost too big to be real. Hearing his laugh she turned to see one of the older men sitting beside him, a smile on his own face. Curious, she turned to Vicki Tully, who had been walking the perimeter, rifle at the ready.
“Do you know Zach?” she asked.
Vicki looked at the former cheerleader for a moment, careful not to respond in anger. There was no way she could know.
“I do,” she nodded, her voice neutral.
“I don't mean to be rude or anything,” Kim assured her. “But... I saw that older man with him? Just now?”
“Xavier,” Vicki nodded, a frown flitting across her face for less than an instant. “We call him X.”
“I see,” Kim nodd
ed. “Well, I was just... I know Zach a little, I was actually a year ahead of him in school, but I don't know him that well, and...well, I was wondering ... I mean, with that, with X, sitting up there with him like that... is Zach gay?”
Blink.
Blink.
Vicki Tully was much louder than Zach as she almost howled in laughter. It took Vicki a minute to get herself under control, by which time Kim was red faced and nearing angry, partly at the attention they were drawing.
“Sorry,” Vicki held up a hand in placation as she tried to catch her breath. “I'm sorry. You just caught me by surprise. And no, Miss Powers. The absolute last thing Zach would be is gay, I can assure you.”
“I see,” Kim didn't quite frown. “But how can you be so... oh,” her mind caught up with her mouth. “Oh!”
“Yes, oh,” Vicki was still chuckling despite not wanting to talk much about that 'oh'. “Xavier is a professional soldier, and has taken Zach as a protege of sorts,” she continued. “Most of the original commandos have done that in one way or another. Heath Kelly for instance is Jody Thompson's protege. Jody is a sniper, and Heath is an uncommonly good rifleman.”
“I... see,” Kim replied slowly, though Vicki doubted that she really did. “Thank you. I was just curious because I didn't want to say something that might be considered rude. They are two of the men who got us out of captivity.”
“I quite understand,” Vicki nodded, and she did, having been there herself once. With that, Vicki moved on, returning to her own work while Kim, with one last look toward Zachary Willis, got back to work loading goods onto a trailer.
Zach watched her go, wondering what that had been about. But it had been good to hear Vicki laugh again.
It suited her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Is that it?” Clay asked. It was the morning of the sixth day. The women had been given the day off to organize and rest, having worked themselves to exhaustion to prove they wanted to be here. Everyone had been impressed with them.
