by J E Moore
troopers rushed to the growing pile of dead.
"Lieutenant, fire a bazooka into that green hole then cut loose with our mounted heavy machine guns."
"Yes, sir. Fire number one B-round now!" 'Whump' A white vapor trail disappeared into the gateway, no sound returned. The streaking missile passed safely through the gathering Raiders, struck one of their collection vehicles and blew it to smithereens. A hail of machine gun bullets followed, dispatching every enemy trooper close to the portal. The shocked remaining Raiders outside the line of receiving fire sprinted to the still operational transports and beat a hasty retreat.
"Cease fire, Lieutenant. Set up the flood lights and establish a twelve hour watch schedule. The portal will take three days to close. Those bastards have been crossing over and kidnaping thousands of people all over the world for years. We now have the technology to locate these gateways created by the Green Flash and stop these monsters. Every time, just as this time, we'll be waiting for them. However, I believe we sent a clear message today of what will happen if they make another attempt."
The Raider survivors reported the encounter and subsequently all tri-pods worldwide discontinued further intrusions. Their administrators had realized the other side could now detect portal openings also and were in fear of their superior weapons... especially a retaliatory attack which could destroy their protective bubbles. "We have to live within our own means," they resolved.
Nick and Glenn, two fallen patriots, laid dead under the burning sun along with the abandoned Raiders for three more days... until the Retrievers returned to collect their last bounty for the Food Bank.
The end
'Til Death Do Us Part
Daisy Hawkins was born in their small homestead's family cabin four miles southwest of Maysville, North Carolina in 1895. Daisy had never been a happy person. All she could remember of her childhood was hard work, especially after Papa got worst-drunk than usual and took off when she just turned eight years old. They never saw the cowardly bastard again and Momma figured he went back to Arkansas to shack-up with his old girlfriend, a floozy roadhouse waitress. Besides, her mother couldn't press the fool to stay, they weren't a legal-like, preacher married couple - no one in the sticks was which made it all too convenient for the menfolk when they wanted to seek better plowing elsewhere and a pile of crap for those left behind. To her runaway common-law husband, his staying and helping provide was a commitment he didn't feel he owed. Momma swore: If'n he ever showed his sorry ass back here again, she'd shoot him dead and told her daughter so.
Their two person family barely made ends meet by working the meager crops and raising pigs and chickens to sell at the weekend Farmer's Market. Daisy wouldn't travel with her; she was ashamed of her appearance and just down-right hated people looking at her. Then, in the winter of 1911 the worse came a knocking at their door: her mother got struck down by the flu bug and died within three weeks. Daisy was now completely alone; there weren't no kinfolk she knew of or neighbors she could turn to for help. Putting that aside, even at sixteen she had the skills and toughness to survive but became bitter to the bone through the years of ceaseless struggle.
Then one Spring day in 1926, her neighbor, Ernest from a coupla miles down the road came to visit and they got to talking. He recognized her from the Market (which she had to do herself since her mother's passing ) and confided he was pretty much a loner also. "Ain't got no use for people sticking their noses in my business," he declared.
She agreed and respected his view then reasoned, "Maybe this man's different... he acts like so and ain't said nothing 'bout how ugly I am."
Seems, his wife had passed away six months ago, "Not really sure from what," he explained. Neither he nor his wife believed in doctors: thought they all were pill-pushing, money-grabbing thieves. "When it's your time, it's your time," he stated. "All the potions you need for proper healing are right in your own back yard." Turns out Ernest had been unemployed for the last eight years, which he didn't disclose, was 46 years of age and had no children - who lived beyond childbirth.
Daisy, herself was a weathered 31, 5'1'' tall and weighed in at hefty 170 pounds, - she weren't no fashion model that's for sure. She tolerated his company in the evening after her chores were done because she didn't have no one to listen to since Momma had passed and put up with his occasional nip of shine', after all he had a sizeable ride home on his horse. After a few months and with the winter coming, he made a proposition to move in with her. She had a better homestead than his and by working together it would be easier on the both of them. They'd be trying a friendly trial partnership.
"No funny business, I swear," he assured. "I'll sleep outside your bedroom in the living room. You'll as safe as a dollar in a bank and if it works out as I know it will, I'll sell my property and get us some money for repairs and restock. I'll also tell the Authorities we is man and wife (common law) so as to get food stamps and whatever else they'll give. We'll be sitting pretty. Deal?"
She accepted the trial and it all went well for a coupla' months: he'd help out with the crops and livestock then go check on his property and mail box every few days. Per their living arrangement, he didn't bother her by talking too much or trying to get personal but even so she noticed his mood had been changing a little bit day by day. He drank every night - every country man did, but it had increased to where he became mouthy and a little ugly before he near passed out on the couch where he slept.
Then one evening after dinner, approaching Christmas it happened. The Man Thing, which she had never experienced before, came full bore after he became licker'd up but not so much as to be incapacitated. Ernest had been jabbering as much as usual but looking at her a whole lot more and different too. "Why are you staring at me?" she asked. "Did I do somethin' wrong?"
"You, you're what's wrong," he snapped back. She cocked her head in a "Why?" gesture. "All the things I done for you and you treat me worse than a barnyard critter." Daisy gave a blank look. "See thar!" He spouted, "You ain't got no idea. I work this place and keep my own 'stead presentable in order to get a buyer... for us. I moved my livestock here so we could raise and sell em' at a better price. I hafta' do all the Marketing cause you hate people lookin' at you... lucky for us I'm a good seller. It was me who told the County and State we was married and you were with child so we could get more stamps and stuff in case you have to go to the hospital for somethin' bad. I've done everything and ain't getting nothin' in return!"
"Ernest, this was our agreement. I don't understand what's causing your concern. We are working together."
"Listen here woman, I was a real married man before my wife's passing. I was used to having my way with her... and she liked it. It's the natural thing to do when two people are living together as we are!" She was caught off guard. "And, I ain't putting up with your stand-offishness no more!" He knocked her out of the kitchen chair, ripped her clothes off and took his pleasure on the floor. Daisy resisted and received a busted lip and a black eye for her efforts - he was too strong. When he had finished he spat, "Expect more you homely wench, every day if I want it and be glad of it. He then took a long, deep drink of moonshine, staggered to her bed and fell down.
Daisy felt numb. It wasn't so much from the pain as the shock. She had been hurt before - farmers are always getting nicked up. The worse of it was the domination and stripping of her dignity, respect and self-worth coupled with the threat of it happening again and again at his whim or desire. The immediate stinging pain from the tearing trauma and soon to be bruises from the assault were quickly pushed aside in her mind by the thought, "What would my Mamma do if she got beat and raped at her husband's will?" She steamed, "My husband, Hell! We ain't married but everyone thinks we is. I'm stuck. It wouldn't do no good to go find the Sheriff and tell him Ernest violated my privates. The men got all the rights."
It didn't take long to figure out what her mother's answer would be.
Daisy rose, checked to make sure he had fallen asleep, cleaned-up herself, don
ned fresh clothing and laid down on the couch where he was supposed to be... but she didn't sleep.
The following morning
She rose at 5:00 a.m. as always and left the cabin to do her daily chores - this time she carried a little something extra to help ease the forthcoming confrontation and stashed it in the far end corner of the barn. After a several hours of feeding the chickens, slopping the pigs and pulling the never-ending, growing weeds in between the produce, she was busy shoveling horse manure inside the small, dilapidated barn when Ernest made a 9:a.m. visit and demanded breakfast.
"Hey, woman. You got any idea what time it is? You shoulda been in the kitchen an hour ago. There ain't even no coffee made!"
Daisy slowly looked up then went to hang the shovel on its hook in the corner. Not hurrying, she placed it properly, turned about and faced him with her arms at her sides.
Ernest was about to return to the cabin, sit on the front porch and await the call his breakfast was ready. He caught himself in mid-step when he noticed her just standing there and not coming out. He wondered, "Does she want some funning in the barn?" then quickly dismissed the notion but resolved he'd poke her again after dinner