365 Days At War

by Nancy Isaak

  “That’s a good idea,” I said. “But I want to make two additions. First, Josh—I want you to find a bunch of whistles—the expensive kind that you can hear from a long way off. We’ll put them on chains and give one to each girl to wear. If they get in trouble, they can blow it and we’ll all come running. And, second—let’s get everyone trained in self-defense, not just the girls, because if the Crazies attack—we’re all going to have to be able to defend ourselves.”

  “Once Porter gets me the names of those martial arts guys, I’ll get them started over at the house and work out a schedule,” said Kieran.

  “Just make sure that the girls get priority,” I told him. “Then, our guards and soldiers next. After that, you can figure out who learns what when.”

  “Roger that.” Kieran saluted Jacob, then sat back in his chair. “Guess I should probably also visit that cute chick in the library, see if she’s got any self-defense books we can use.”

  * * * *

  We had one last bit of Council business that afternoon—next week we would have two more guys turning eighteen.

  “So, do we put them in the cage or not?” I asked.

  “It’s kind of become a tradition,” said Kieran. “The guys expect it.”

  “But if everybody is living past eighteen…”

  “Except we don’t know that for sure,” said Porter. “At least, if they’re in the cage, they’ll have the send-off we gave the other guys.”

  “Just so you know,” Kaylee added, “Cherry’s birthday is coming up on December 14th.”

  “Do you think she’ll want to go in the cage, too?”

  Kaylee shook her head. “We’re giving her a party. Shawnee is making chocolate cake,” she said, grinning. “But you guys go ahead with your cage-thing. I’m sure that works just as well.”

  KAYLEE

  Although Peyton and Jude had been in the Locals’ compound the night they were captured, it wasn’t until a week and a half later that they actually saw it during the day. Trailed by our armed guards, Jay and I walked with Jude and Peyton, pointing out the different houses, showing them where the food line was, and introducing them to the guys that we knew.

  “And the big ass cage over there?” asked Jude. “Pretty sure we had one of those back up in Agoura Hills and it didn’t end up so good.”

  “Not the same thing,” I told her. “The guys here use this one when someone turns eighteen. I guess they thought that if they put them in the cage, they wouldn’t disappear when their birthdays came up.”

  “That’s stupid,” said Peyton, reaching down to tighten up the buckle on her high heel. She was wearing a little pleated mini-skirt and it rode up, almost exposing her ‘twinkie’.

  “Peyton,” whispered Jay. “Guys are looking at your you-know-what.”

  “You think?” she drawled. Then, she bent over even more, enjoying the effect she was having, especially on one of the guards assigned to her. He began to clear his throat, his eyes going to the sky—as if seriously studying the clouds above.

  Jude grabbed at Peyton, pulling her up. “Dude, stop it. You’re acting like a Fox.”

  Peyton tugged her arm away. “Stop it yourself! I’m just having some fun.”

  “Do you realize how many more guys there are than girls?” I hissed at her. “What you’re doing is dangerous—to you and to the rest of us.”

  She sniffed and started walking again. “Guys just need to learn how to keep it in their pants.”

  * * * *

  “WUFF…WUFF…WUFF!” It was an excited Pugly, racing up to us. Ethan ran behind, holding onto his leash.

  “Hey, little guy,” said Jude, bending down toward the dog. The pug immediately tried to climb onto her legs, chuffing away, licking at her face.

  “Pugly smelled you,” said Ethan, proudly. “That’s why he came running.”

  Jude stood up, reaching out her hand to shake Ethan’s. “I’d recognize your face anywhere.”

  “You know my sister, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Jude nodded. “In fact, she and her little purse probably saved my life one time.”

  “Lily’s coming here, you know,” Ethan told her.

  “What?” Jude turned and looked to me for confirmation.

  “Who knows?” I shrugged. “It’s a twin thing.”

  * * * *

  Frank met up with us as we were heading toward the food line. “Hey, Jude,” he said, shyly.

  “Asswipe,” she growled, swiveling around to face him.

  “I guess I deserved that for everything I’ve done,” Frank said, lowering his head in shame. “If it makes you feel any better, I’ll let you take a shot at me.”

  Jude immediately made a fist and pulled back her arm.

  “No!” I jumped in front of her, shielding Frank with my body. “You can’t do that, Jude! It’s wrong.”

  “But he said it would be okay if it made me feel better,” she said—using Jude-logic.

  Peyton moved up then, casually inserting herself between Jude, me, and Frank. She placed her arms around the big guy, giving him a hug. “Long time…glad you made it.”

  “Hey, Peyton,” he replied, hugging her back. “You don’t know how happy I am to see that you’re not with the Foxes anymore.”

  “Yeah, well…I was getting bored anyway.”

  They pulled apart, looking at each other—smiles on their faces.

  With a jolt, I came to the realization that there was something between them—an unrequited spark that they’d possibly never quite acted upon.

  I wondered if they knew it.

  * * * *

  “So, who’s whitey?” Peyton was referring to Lance, who was standing a few feet away, nervously looking down at his shoes.

  “This is one of my best workers,” said Frank, motioning him over. “Lance works with me on the farm.”

  “You’re a farmer?!”

  “Darn good one, too. We’ve got a load of onions and cabbages about ready for harvest.”

  Peyton gazed down at Lance, her lips pursed. “If I was a better person,” she sniffed at the boy, “I’d lick my thumb and wipe that crap off of your face.”

  Embarrassed, Lance immediately started rubbing at his face, completely missing the thick streak of dirt just above his left eyebrow. Peyton watched for a moment, before she became irritated. “Oh, let me do that,” she snapped, licking her thumb and rubbing it hard against his forehead.

  Next to them, Frank just grinned.

  Jude gave me a nudge, meanwhile—whispering into my ear. “Crap, that girl works fast. Princess has got a boyfriend and a kid and she hasn’t even been here ten minutes.”

  “She’s deserves a little happiness after what she’s been through. We all do.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” mumbled Jude. “You sure I can’t take a swing at Frank—because that would bring me a little happiness.”

  * * * *

  A week later, we saw Frank again—this time inside of the cage.

  He stood there, waiting for the moment of his birth. Like the rest of us who were watching, he seemed scared but hopeful. If Frank survived, if he didn’t disappear—then, we all truly had a future.

  We hoped.

  * * * *

  While the rest of us stood or sat, circling the cage, Peyton held onto Frank’s hand through the steel bars. There were angry tears in her eyes, like she was taking the whole thing personally.

  “This is stupid,” she kept saying. “This is just really stupid!”

  Meanwhile, Lance stood next to her, both hands on the bars, looking in at the guy who had over the last month become his big brother.

  “Something happens to me, promise you’ll take care of the boy,” Frank urged Peyton.

  “But I’m a screw-up,” she whispered. “You know that, Frank. I’d be useless to kids.”

  “Amelie would say otherwise. Now, you promise me, Peyton. Because Lance will need someone and you’re the person that I trust.”

  Peyton glanced down at
Lance.

  He looked up at her shyly and she took a finger and flicked it at his head. “Your hair looks dumb, kid. It needs to be cut.”

  Lance gave Peyton a weak, scared smile. “Okay,” he whispered.

  “Two minutes!” came a yell from somewhere.

  * * * *

  I was standing next to Jacob, our bodies close but not touching. We had been careful over the last few weeks not to be too overt with our affection. Although we had kissed—on many occasions—we did it privately. It just made sense to us that, with so few girls, it would be unwise to throw our relationship in the other guys’ faces.

  That said—at times like this—it would have been nice to hold Jacob’s hand. I needed his support, his touch. And, I think he did also because, when the “One minute!” call came, the back of Jacob’s hand moved slightly against mine and his little finger entwined around my pinkie.

  * * * *

  As the seconds were called out, the guys and girls assembled around the cage began to mutter and mumble. Cammie was there, standing between Kieran and Pauly. While the boys worked hard at keeping their faces unemotional, Cammie was clearly nervous—chewing on her nails, her left foot tap-tap-tapping away.

  A little further down, Jay was standing quietly by herself. She had actually arrived with Porter sometime earlier but, when Jude had showed up, she had politely moved to one side—letting Porter and Jude be together.

  I noticed, however, that Jay kept glancing at Porter, her eyes downcast as she peered up between her lashes, watching him as he quietly talked to Jude.

  No doubt about it—Jay liked Porter.

  * * * *

  Sadly, Cherry had decided to remain at home. She was freaked out by her upcoming eighteenth birthday and didn’t want the reminder that she might not make it.

  Shawnee and Wester had also stayed back at the house, wanting to support their big sister. And, after some discussion, we girls had also left Hannah with them; it just seemed wrong to have the young girl witness Frank disappearing—if it turned out that way.

  * * * *

  Meanwhile, Rhys and his Raiders stood to one side of the cage—frowns on their faces, arms crossed. They were all such lean, muscular boys now. Many of them had shaved their heads bald—with the exception of the giant ‘L’ on the back of their head. A few of them had even gotten tattoos.

  I noticed that Xavier was sporting a ‘RR’ on his arm. I assumed that it was supposed to represent ‘Rhys’ Raiders’, but I grinned inwardly when I saw it—thinking instead of the logo for Rolls Royce.

  On the far left of the group, Andrei and Ian waited quietly—their arms around Ethan’s shoulders who stood between them. They all looked scared to some degree, Ethan more than the other two.

  At one point, Ian’s eyes met mine. I nodded at him—an attempt to show him my confidence that Frank would make it through all right.

  Ian didn’t look like he believed me.

  My gaze returned to Rhys; I realized how mature he was becoming. He seemed to be having a growing spurt—he had muscles now and he’d gained at least an inch during the last month. His shirt was open and I couldn’t help but notice the six-pack he was carrying.

  Without a doubt, Rhys was becoming a good-looking guy—the kind of kid who would have driven the school girls crazy in another, more civilized world.

  * * * *

  “Ten seconds!”

  Peyton’s grip on Frank’s hand tightened. Meanwhile, Lance reached in and latched onto Frank’s t-shirt, winding it up in his tiny fist.

  “Don’t worry,” Frank murmured to both of them. “It’s not going to happen…don’t worry.”

  “This is so stupid,” insisted Peyton.

  “Nine…eight…seven…”

  “So…think you might want to date a farmer?” Frank asked Peyton, grinning. “Maybe, if he manages to survive?”

  “Shaddup!” she snapped, reaching in for his other hand.

  “Six…five…four…three…”

  “Just so you know,” whispered Frank, quickly, “I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “Two…one!”

  * * * *

  We stood there, watching, waiting; not a single person said a word.

  Ten minutes went by before Peyton finally let go of Frank’s hands. She took a deep breath, straightened her skirt, and told Frank, “You’re welcome.”

  Then, head held high—trying to hide the tears that lingered threateningly on her thick eyelashes—Peyton turned on her heels and walked away.

  Frank watched her go, grinning. “That’s gonna’ be my girl,” he told Lance. “She’s got sass, doesn’t she?”

  Lance nodded. “She’s pretty. I like her hair.”

  Meanwhile, Josh bounced over to the cage door and held it open. “Happy Birthday, Frank!”

  All around—guys burst into cheers.

  There was laughter and back-slapping and I noticed that some of the older ones were struggling not to cry. I guess they were realizing that if Frank survived, then there was a good chance that they would, too.

  However—when I looked over at Jacob—I noticed that he was frowning.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “What if we’ve got the time wrong on our watches?” he said. “What if it really isn’t his birth time, yet?”

  Frank must have heard, because he came over and placed an arm around Jacob’s shoulders. He leaned in close, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the cheering. “I was born three hours ago,” he told Jacob. “I just thought it would be easier this way—so I didn’t have to stand in that dang cage waiting so long.”

  The smile that lit up Jacob’s face was brilliant.

  He immediately turned to me and—forgetting about our no pda rule—lifted me up and twirled me around happily. “The disappearing is over, Kaylee...I know it!”

  Frank pretended to be put-out. “Hey, what about me?! I mean, I’m the one who went through all the trauma.”

  Jacob placed me back on the ground and grabbed Frank in a bearhug. Meanwhile, a flying form launched toward them; it was Kieran throwing his arms around them both. Moments later, Josh and Connor joined in. After that, it was just a mass of arms and legs as guys rushed forward from all sides.

  I quickly moved back—out of the way.

  Lance joined me, nervously side-stepping the chaos.

  “You okay?” I asked the little guy.

  He nodded. “I am now.”

  JACOB

  Having Frank survive the cage changed the whole atmosphere in the tribe. I noticed that there was more laughter now, less fighting, and the guys seemed excited for once about the future.

  Probably because they actually had one at last.

  Of course—a little voice inside of my head kept niggling away, questioning whether Frank and the others were the exceptions.

  Would we wake up one day and the disappearances start up again?

  One-by-one would we pop out of existence, until only one boy was left—one small life to remember so many others? And an even worse thought occurred to me—if it started all over again, then would Kaylee be the one standing outside of the cage holding onto my hand?

  * * * *

  Meanwhile, we still had the Crazies to worry about.

  While they didn’t outright attack us, their soldiers did torment us with rifle shots that came whizzing out of the woods, next to our sentries’ heads. Or sometimes they just ran back and forth on a nearby ridge, laughing and jeering—often lowering their pants to moon their bare asses at us.

  It was frustrating to the guys on patrol, and Kieran and Pauly had to continually remind them again and again to keep their cool—telling them that the Crazies were just trying to psych them out, that they wanted them to get angry.

  So far, our guys had remained calm—sort of.

  My fear, though, was that one of them would crack soon and race headlong into a situation that he couldn’t get out of; then he’d wind up
a slave or worse—in the Arena.

  * * * *

  As the days and nights grew colder, more and more guys were coming down the coastal highway from the northern states and Canada. A good number of them joined our tribe, while others chanced traveling through the Crazies to the south of us in an effort to make it to Mexico.

  We checked each new tribe member thoroughly for tattoos that could connect them with the Crazies, then assigned them shadows—Locals who would watch them for a time, making certain that the new guys weren’t spies sent to infiltrate our tribe.

  The Locals had been fooled once by Damien and Goran; we were determined not to be fooled again.

  * * * *

  One morning, we woke up to a trio of boats, coming down the coastline from the north. Our defenses immediately went into high alert as the boats neared Point Dume, but we soon lowered our weapons as we realized that the rowers weren’t stopping; they weren’t even slowing down.

  Perhaps the boats were heading to Mexico.

  We never did find out, because the boats kept on moving—their rowers not even glancing our way.

  * * * *

  Like Kaylee requested, the Council made up rules on how to approach and treat any girls that might come into our territory. Basically, they were to be treated respectfully, not frightened, and immediately escorted to the girls’ house.

  Every afternoon, Kaylee would attend Council, eagerly hoping that this would be the day that a female refugee would have made it over the mountains from Agoura Hills. And, each night, she would return to her house—disappointed.

  In all this time—not a single girl had even been sighted.

  * * * *

  Meanwhile, Kaylee and I continued to take our relationship slowly. We were both well-occupied with the Council—trying to construct a workable rescue plan for the slaves left behind in the Valley, as well as, all the other work needed to run a tribe of our size.