Fire From the Sky: Friendly Fire

by N. C. Reed

  “Now. You're going to load up in that vehicle,” he pointed to the Hummer, “and return to the Sanders' ranch with us because that's the only thing you can do. And you're going to stop screaming at Gordy and Zach about it being their fault your home burned. You may or may not have noticed on the way here, but you aren't alone in that. A great many homes were destroyed, not just yours.”

  Silence. Staring. No response.

  “Mattie, did you hear what I said?” Shane took a step in her direction. In response she moved a step backward, away from him.

  “Mattie, you have got to get hold of yourself,” Shane told her, becoming concerned now at the wild look in the young woman's eyes. The situation was spiraling out of control rather quickly.

  “Mattie, I need you to talk to me,” he tried again.

  Nothing.

  “Mattie, dammit, talk to me!” Shane almost shouted but caught himself just in time. At least she flinched at the tone, he saw. That was better than nothing. He realized rather suddenly what might be wrong with her.

  “Mattie, listen to me,” he said more gently. “You're going into shock. Do you understand? You have to try and calm yourself. I need you to come with me and get back to the farm where you can be treated. Doctor Thatcher will know what to do to help you. Mattie, are you listening? This is serious, girl. Shock isn't something to play around with. Come on,” he slowly held an arm out to her, urging her to come to him.

  As slowly as molasses in the winter cold, Mattie began to react, moving toward him at a speed measured in inches rather than feet. Xavier, having heard Shane's pronouncement, retrieved a blanket from the rear of the Hummer and cautiously carried it to Shane as he waited for the young woman to respond. He took it gratefully and Xavier withdrew to avoid pressuring Mattie any further. Shane opened the blanket and held it up for Mattie to step into, which she slowly did, moving as if she were in a trance.

  As soon as she was inside the blanket, Shane carefully wrapped it around her, pulling her close. In his embrace, Mattie finally fell apart, crashing hard emotionally as the floodgates opened completely at last. Everything she had endured, coupled with what she had found here, erupted from her in a scream of pure despair and pain, tears blinding her as she buried her head in Shane's neck and sobbed so hard she shuddered.

  “Mattie, I need you to walk with me,” Shane said softly in her ear. “You don't have to look, just hold on to me and follow my lead, okay? Just walk with me. It's going to be okay, hear me? I know it doesn't look like it now, but you're going to be okay. That's it,” he encouraged as she took the first halting steps toward the Hummer. “That's good. Keep coming, just like that Mattie. We're headed back, okay? We can do this, kid. You and me, okay?”

  Xavier ran to open the rear door, allowing Shane to slide Mattie inside without actually releasing her, then climb in behind her. Xavier closed the door for him and climbed into the passenger seat as Gordy slid behind the wheel once more. He was still angry, but it was dissipating in the wake of seeing Mattie fall completely apart.

  Zach didn't seem to care one way or the other and instead concentrated on maintaining his vigil in the turret.

  “Take us home,” Xavier ordered quietly. “Faster is better,” he added with a glance over his shoulder.

  “On it,” Gordy nodded.

  The return trip was quiet, save for the sound of Mattie Simmons breaking down.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  With Mattie Simmons on her way, Clay had started back for Building Two when he encountered Vicki Tully and Sienna Newell on an ATV.

  “I hear I got you in trouble, Boss,” Vicki said as she stopped next to him.

  “I'm used to it,” Clay merely shrugged. “I take it she went quietly?”

  “She's just about broken,” Vicki nodded. “She's lost all that fire that kept her cursing and spitting for three days. Right now she's wearing a tow sack with holes for her head and arms cut into it, and a chain locked around her neck with a padlock that is in turn padlocked to giant oak tree. Mitch said he was going to take her a blanket but I don't know if he did or not. We were about to ride out and see her.”

  “Well don't let me stop you,” Clay grinned. “If she's ready to talk, come and get me. And don't underestimate her. We still don't know what kind of training she may have had.”

  “We’ll mind it,” Vicki promised. She put the rig in gear and drove away, leaving Clay once again headed inside. As he walked inside, he paused at the radio room. He was surprised to see the young Chinese-American girl . . . Minnie? Missy? . . .

  “Miss Long,” he settled for saying as the young goth turned to look at him. “Decided not to take the time off after all?” he smiled.

  “I didn't do all that much on the way here,” she shrugged casually. “If I'm going to earn a place here, it's going to have to be somewhere like this. It's all I know how to do that's still applicable.”

  “To be honest, that's fine,” Clay promised. “We've run the twins and their minions ragged. They all have other responsibilities but they all have to share this responsibility as well. As for skills, if you can help supervise children then you’ll have the chance for something else besides this. We told you we have the orphanage on the hill? The women who live there have to work somewhere on the farm at least three days a week. Miss Malitha George and Lila Webb both work there during the day so that two of them can come out and work on the farm. Miss Malitha has a very bad back and Lila is only fifteen and recently suffered a good deal of trauma. But she also has other responsibilities, so we could use you part time up there, too. Don't worry, Miss Long. I'm sure you’ll make yourself a spot here without any difficulty. There's always a place for someone with your skills and intelligence.”

  “How do you know I'm intelligent?” she demanded.

  “The twins did, indirectly,” Clay smiled. “They and JJ evaluated you based on what you said at the introduction. When they said they could find a place for you, that meant they had already decided that you had the intelligence to help them. And it's not just radio, either,” he held up a hand to stop her next comment. “The twins are in large part responsible for everything you see around you. They, JJ and Janice keep it straight. Keep our stores in order and keep our records. They know within a day or two of worth where practically everything on this farm is. Everything of importance at any rate. Don't tell me that's not something you'd be good at with your background in computer systems.”

  “Got a working computer?” she snorted.

  “Several of them, and more tablet’s,” Clay nodded. “I'm pretty sure Rat had at least one or two, so I'm sure you knew we'd probably have one.”

  “Rat?” she looked confused for a second. “You mean Shane,” she caught up quick. “I'd forgotten they called him that.”

  “What did you call him on the radio?” Clay asked, puzzled.

  “I didn't,” she shook her head. “I monitored radio frequencies for him and kept a record of what we picked up. It wasn't much to be honest. Put it all on one sheet of notebook paper if not for the 'Church of the Worthy',” she made a derisive noise as she put up air quotes.

  “Wait, you've heard the Reverend Nutworth?” Clay asked.

  “Nutworth?” Millie frowned. “I thought his name was Boaz. The Utmost Worthy Boaz? Speaker and Teacher for the Uttermost Worthy, Eli Gideon Jardine?”

  “Say who now?” Clay stammered, caught by surprise.

  “The Uttermost Worthy-” she stopped as Clay held up a hand.

  “Wait. There's no point in doing this twice. JJ?” he looked over her shoulder.

  “Yes sir?”

  “I need the twins and Janice down here ASAP. Also notify Pancho and have him report over here as well. Anyone else hear?” he asked Millie. “Or did you by chance record any of it?”

  “No,” Millie shook her head. “Didn't have a way to. Sorry.”

  “Don't be, just asking,” Clay assured her. “I need you to think about what all you know about this guy, and grab any paperwork you ge
nerated on him, and be back here in . . . twenty minutes work for you?”

  “Sure.”

  ***

  Emily Shirley knew despair. Intimately.

  She was currently sitting at the base of what she thought was a large red oak. She wasn't sure. Not that it mattered. Whatever kind of tree it was, it was three times her own girth if not more, and she was secured to it by a chain large enough to hold a bull. Her hand unconsciously went to her throat, where the chain was padlocked snugly around her neck, not tight enough to restrict her breathing but more than enough to make it inescapable.

  When her 'bath' was finished, she had been led to the tree and presented with a 'dress' made literally from a tow sack, holes having been cut in the scratchy material for her head and arms. Her ankles had been bound before they had released her from the noose poles holding her at length, allowing her to cover her shivering nakedness with the meager dress. Once it was on, the chain had been placed around her neck and her ankles released.

  She had been left with a blanket, a roll of toilet paper and a promise that someone would return 'later'. Later had proven to be near dark, when she had been delivered a bottle of water and an MRE. Starving for food at this point she ripped the package open and devoured the contents, not even bothering with the heating tab inside. While not tasty, it was filling, and it convinced her stomach that her throat had in fact not been cut.

  A night spent shivering under the blanket had given way to an overcast morning that threatened rain at some point. Worrying the she would get soaked, she set about testing the limits of her chain, trying to find potential cover in the smaller trees and brush around her. She made what she hoped was a satisfactory burrow that would hopefully give her at least some protection from the rain. She felt sure at this point that should she catch pneumonia or the flu, her captors would simply abandon her to die. She was under no illusion as to her fate. They would never allow her to go free, nor would they consent to allow her to be here permanently. That meant that as soon as they knew what they wanted to know, she was dead.

  The sound of an approaching ATV broke her from her ruminations and she looked to see the side-by-side approaching with two women in it. She had seen both of them before, one the short, chubby one that had left her chained here the day before. She watched with trepidation as the ATV rolled to a stop beyond where the chain around her neck would reach. Always careful, this one.

  “Well, looks like you've made yourself a little rabbit warren, huh?” the busy one said, climbing down and leaving her rifle and sidearm on the seat. The slender one took a post in front, rifle in hand.

  “I had to do something,” Emily replied. “It looked like rain.”

  “So it does,” the chubby one nodded, reaching into the bed of the small vehicle. She came to the very edge of the chain's limit and dropped a cheap poncho, another MRE and two more water bottles. Emily scrambled forward, hating herself for not showing more patience but afraid the items would be withdrawn if she didn't grab them immediately.

  “Well, today's a busy day, so no one wants to talk to you,” she was told. “This should hold you until tomorrow. Have a pleasant afternoon.”

  And with that the two women mounted up and drove away, not bothering to ask a single question or taunt her in any way.

  That left her more afraid than if they had mistreated her in some way.

  ***

  “Wonder what she's thinking,” Newell pondered as they made their way back.

  “She's worried, right now,” Vicki replied. “She's concerned that we didn't bother her today like we have been. Wondering what we're up to. Changes like that worry people in her position.”

  Vicki Tully had hit things off nicely with Sienna Newell and Kandi Ledford. While the military was not short on women in service, they weren't represented in all branches, either. Tully and Newell had both seen action more than once, and Ledford was Newell's longtime friend and roommate. With Thatcher's distant coldness to anyone she deemed 'beneath her', the three younger women had quite naturally gravitated together, drawn at first by shared experiences and now by the promise of real friendship.

  “You feel bad for her?” Newell asked.

  “Not in the slightest,” Vicki shook her head. “She'd do this and worse to us. Bet on it.”

  “Yeah, that's the feeling I get, too. She made her bed.”

  “Exactly. Bugs and all.”

  ***

  “Guys, this is Millie, which you all probably know,” Clay was standing with her in front of a white board. “Guess who she heard on the radio during the trip here, and guess what she heard?”

  “Who's in the Super Bowl this year?” Deuce said at once.

  “Internet is coming back?” JJ smirked, knowing what was going on.

  “New Gwen Stefani album?” Leanne had to join in.

  “There's going to be a Super Bowl even after the lights went out?” Janice asked, confused. “Shouldn't we have higher priorities than that?”

  “So much humor,” Clay shook his head as Jose laughed his ass off and even Millie looked amused. “No, she heard the Revered Nutworth. Apparently a lot better than we have been. Millie?” He moved aside to give her the floor.

  “Uh . . . hi,” she almost stammered. “I'm, uh . . . Millie,” she added with an abbreviated wave.

  “Hi Millie,” all four said together as if it were an AA meeting, drawing another exasperated sigh from Clay and more laughter from Jose. The corners of Millie's mouth actually twitched upward in the barest hint of an almost near smile. She knew they were trying to help her feel more at ease. While she would never admit it, she appreciated it.

  “After I joined the convoy, I worked the radios for the rest of the trip,” she told them. “As I'm sure you've discovered, radio traffic is still at a minimum, and likely to stay that way I suppose. But one constant as we made our way here was someone who identified himself as the Utmost Worthy Samuel Boaz, the Speaker and Teacher for the Uttermost Worthy, Eli Gideon Jardine.”

  “That can't be their real names,” the twins said at once. In unison.

  “And here we go,” Jose muttered quietly.

  “No idea, but it is the names they're using for their radio show,” Millie confirmed. “I suspect it isn't their real identities either. I mean, how cruel can parents be?”

  “Well, they could be named for compass points,” Deuce said.

  “Or colors,” Leanne agreed.

  “Animals,” Deuce suggested.

  “Space vehicles,” Leanne nodded.

  “Stop it,” Clay ordered as Millie seemed to be reeling at the double team. “She just got here, you two. Give her a day or so to get accustomed to your . . . youness.”

  “Harsh,” Deuce muttered.

  “Uncalled for,” Leanne agreed.

  “So I'm guessing you two share a brain as well as DNA?” Millie finally got back on track. “Does that mean if you're more than a few feet apart you shut down?”

  Silence reigned in the room for about five seconds. After which howling laughter came from everyone except Janice.

  “But . . . I've seen them separate before!”

  ***

  “So this is basically some kind of end day cult, the way it sounds?” Jose mused.

  “We pretty much had guessed that, but Millie's report, good job on the record keeping by the way,” Clay told the girl, “confirms it. And she adds something else, as well.”

  “Structure,” the twins’ gaze were glassed over as they were far removed, clearly computing what they had been told.

  “Mission statement,” JJ threw in.

  “None of what he said is in the Bible,” Janice objected, not for the first time. “I mean, some of the phrasing is the same, but the message he's sending is completely warped from what the Bible actually teaches. What?” she asked as everyone looked at her closely.

  “Read the bible once?” JJ asked, though kindly.

  “Yes,” Janice nodded, taking no offense.

  “Wait.
What?” Millie was lost now.

  “Janice is unique,” Clay tried to explain.

  “Understatement,” the twins chimed.

  “Janice is very unique,” he tried again.

  “Better,” the Duo nodded firmly, still using most of their brain power for something else even as they reprimanded their uncle.

  “She has an eidetic memory,” JJ provided helpfully at Millie's stunned expression. “That means-”

  “I'm aware of what it means,” she nodded. “Never met anyone who had one. Ultra rare. So much so that science tries to prove it's a myth.”

  “Oh, it can't be that rare or I couldn't do it,” Janice smiled brightly.

  “As I was saying,” Clay cleared his throat, “she can recall anything she has ever read, apparently. Usually all you have to do is mention it and the information starts flowing.”

  “That is absolutely freaking awesome,” Millie whispered almost reverently, impressed for the first time in she didn't honestly know how long.

  “It's really not that big a deal,” Janice squirmed a bit under the other girl's stare.

  “Are you kidding me?” Millie looked aghast. “I'd kill a random stranger to be able to have that ability!”

  “Oh, you shouldn't do something like that!” Janice urged her, so very earnest that it hurt to hear it.

  “It was a figure of speech,” Millie admitted. “I wouldn't kill a random stranger. I'd find one that had done something bad and kill them. Randomly.”

  “I like this girl,” Jose told a groaning Clay as the discussion went off the rails once more.

  It was like herding cats. Incredibly intelligent and yet somehow stupid cats.

  ***

  “There is no alternative out there to this guy,” Millie finished. “None. There is simply nothing or no one else on the air other than brief snippets or people who are trying to look for others or communicate with people in their party, and so on. Just like you do here, or we did getting here. But messages like his? No. At no point between here and Texarkana, anyway. There is no counter to him or even a bad alternative.”

  “I need you to get together and plot your trip here, at least from the first point where you heard this guy,” Clay ordered. “I want to see on the map where you heard his signal the strongest, where it was weakest, anything like that we can use to get an idea where he might be. We've already got trouble at our door with the group you encountered on the way here. We don't need some nutjob bringing a fake holy war to our doorstep if we can help it. Especially without some warning.”