by Mark Church
A chilly, late January wind blows across the produce fields where United Federation (UF) Server’s struggle with picks and shovels to turn over frozen dirt. Lacking heavy equipment, the progress is painstakingly slow. The grueling, backbreaking work takes it tolls on the workers, many of them succumbing to the extreme workload and harsh conditions; but if not for this army of ‘Server’s’, it would be impossible to meet the spring planting schedule.
UF Monitor’s keep a close eye on progress. Stern encouragement (firm strikes with a wooden baton) is administered when needed. Servers are pushed mercilessly, those who falter due to exhaustion, sickness, or injury are ‘retired’.
For the most part, the servers toil along obediently, their spirit long ago broken. Those who are strong and healthy but unwilling to capitulate to the demands of the guards, or monitors as they are referred to, are redirected to the Games Commission for reassignment. The Games Commission is always happy to get new recruits, it has an eager and insatiable audience to serve.
A monitor known for excessive brutality keeps close watch on the workers. He anxiously scans the field looking for a reason to administer a ‘correction’. In his eagerness to find a victim, he fails to detect a server approaching from behind.
The server, having crept within striking distance, swings the shovel like a baseball bat and strikes the monitor on the side of the head. The violent blow causes the monitor to collapse to the ground, unconscious.
The disoriented and confused monitor slowly begins to come around. Rolling onto his back he finds the server standing above him with a shovel held high. The server is gripping the tool hand-over-hand near mid-handle with the blade end facing down. Before the monitor can raise his hand to protect himself, the server drives the shovel down, nearly decapitating his victim in one smooth motion. The wound generates a spray of blood that soaks the frozen ground.
The monitor’s body twitches and convulses as if performing some macabre dance as the nearly detached head hangs on by a thin piece of sinew. Taking a moment to admire his handiwork, the server pauses briefly before striking down once again. The second blow liberates the monitor’s head from its body once and for all. Dropping the shovel and reaching down to pick up his gruesome prize, the triumphant server utters a guttural scream, as he lifts the severed head as one would raise a hard-won trophy.
“What the hell!” One of two soldiers assigned to a nearby observation tower yells out.
“What’s going on?” his colleague asks while scrambling to his feet.
“A server is assaulting a monitor.”
Grabbing his rifle, he finds the server in his scope and takes careful aim just as the rogue server raises the victim's head into the air.
Focusing his aim on the server’s chest, the soldier fires a round, striking the man in the upper right side of his torso. Twisting violently to his right, the server is spun face first into the hard ground.
The other servers and monitors drop down and try to make themselves as small as possible to avoid being hit by an errant bullet.
The soldier refrains from firing again until he assesses the situation. Both soldiers scan the field for other signs of trouble. With no further threats identified, they return their focus to their original target. For a moment, the server lays still.
Just when the soldiers are convinced that the server had been fatally wounded, he raises his head and begins to slowly drag himself forward.
“Well, look at that,” says the shooter. “That boy’s not done yet.”
“I’ll go down there and finish him,” proposes the second soldier.
“Let’s finish him from here, it’ll make good target practice.”
With a wry grin the second soldier says, “Okay, but me first.”
“Fine, but no kill shots, I want him breathing. Shoot for the legs.”
The second soldier targets the server’s right thigh and squeezes the trigger. Through his riflescope he sees the bullet strike home. The server pitches forward, his face slamming into the dirt.
“You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“No, I just tickled him a bit.”
“Well, he sure as hell isn’t moving.”
“Give him a minute.”
Sure enough, the server begins to stir. Forcing himself back onto his elbows, he struggles to move forward while dragging his shattered right leg.
“Ok, ok...it’s my turn – let me show you how it’s done!”
The first soldier takes aim at the server’s left thigh and pulls the trigger. The soldier’s aim is true, as the third bullet tears through flesh and bone. The impact of the bullet once again drives the server face first into the dirt.
The soldiers look for signs of life, but the server continues to lay motionless on the ground.
“That one might have done him in,” says the first soldier.
“You hit him in the left leg, right?”
“Yeah, but he’s got three rounds in him.”
“What a cunt,” complains the second soldier.
“Hold on,” says the first soldier. “It looks like he might still be breathing.”
“How about we change that on three,” the second soldier proposes.
“Roger that.”
Both men focus their scopes on the server’s sprawled body, each in silent competition to deliver the kill shot.
“Ready,” growls the first soldier. “On my count – one, two, three!”
They fire their weapons simultaneously. The mortally wounded server’s body jerks and then lays still.
Moments later, a large gate opens in the city’s barrier wall. A military vehicle emerges from the gate leaving a large plume of dust as it makes its way across the open field. Arriving at the gruesome scene, an officer and three soldiers exit the vehicle. The two surviving monitors working the field rush to meet them.
“What happened here?” demands the officer looking over the bodies.
“We aren’t sure, sir,” replies one of the monitors. ‘We heard the server yell and then all hell broke loose.”
“Have you had problems with that server before?” asks the officer.
“He was always a bit peculiar,” replies the monitor, “but he did his work and, until now, didn’t cause any trouble.”
“You obviously missed something,” notes the officer.
The monitors look to the ground and don’t respond.
“Let’s make sure that something like this doesn’t happen again. Get me a server – one that’s close to ‘retirement’.” commands the officer
The monitor who has been doing the talking says, “Yes, sir,” before setting out across the field.
The officer watches as the monitor descends upon an older woman cowering in the dirt. The monitor grabs her by the arm and jerks her upright. He begins dragging her towards the officer as she protests and pleads.
Presenting her to the officer, the monitor asks, “Will she do, sir?”
“She’ll do just fine.”
The officer takes the woman by the hair and turns her towards the servers in the field. He begins, “I will not tolerate defiance – of any kind. The server laying here filled with bullets got off easy. Unfortunately for this woman, she’ll have to atone for his misdeed. Let this be a lesson to all of you.”
The other servers look at the woman with pity in their eyes, they can only imagine the depraved horrors that the officer has in store for her.
The officer orders one of the soldiers to get a rope. After retrieving it, the officer instructs the soldier to tie one end around the vehicle's bumper and the other around the woman.
Wide-eyed and shaking, the woman pleads with the officer. Dropping to her knees, she throws her arms around his legs and begs for mercy.
“Get this piece of filth off me,” the officer growls.
Two soldiers pull the woman away from the officer and bring her to her feet.
The officer brushes dirt from his uniform while a third soldier ties the rope around her torso.
Resigning to her fate, the whimpering woman freezes in place.
Again, addressing the servers in the field, the office proclaims, “I want this to be perfectly clear, if you get out of line – in any way – there will be a steep price to pay!”
The officer instructs the monitors to take the place of the two soldiers holding the woman before he and his soldiers get into the still running vehicle. The monitors can only see the officer’s silhouette as he waves his hand in a gesture motioning for the driver to proceed.
The vehicle begins moving forward as the slack unwinds from the rope. When the rope reaches its length, the woman is jerked forward and forced to walk at a rapid pace. As the vehicle picks up speed, she attempts to run in order to keep up.
Eventually the vehicle's speed overcomes the woman ability to stay on her feet. Her legs are moving too fast for her to successfully maintain its pace. She eventually trips and hits the ground hard before being yanked forward. The vehicle continues to increase its speed as the woman begins skipping across the hard, frozen ground. She resembles a fallen water skier who refuses to release the rope.
The woman’s screams can be heard across the entire field. The servers watch in horror, silently praying that the woman’s end comes quickly. After a few hundred feet the woman’s screams come to a stop. It’s likely that she has lost consciousness or, more mercifully, is already dead. The vehicle continues to zigzag around the perimeter of the fields. The woman’s body whips back and forth as it bounces off of barbed wire fences and posts.
After a lap around the field, the vehicle comes to a stop. The woman’s mangled and torn body is still attached to the end of the rope. It’s obvious that the woman is deceased; her body is barely recognizable as human. In spite of this, the vehicle spins its tires and starts another trip around the field. Once again, the woman’s body skips across the ground. A quarter of the way around the field, her body begins to lose parts. One of the field’s corner posts removes the right leg before a parked wagon’s wheel takes the left.
By the time they complete the second lap, there is only a bloody noose bouncing along at the end of the rope. The vehicle slows and comes to a stop in front of the monitors. A soldier exits the vehicle and walks around to the trailer hitch. After untying the knot, he begins winding the rope around his thumb and forefinger until he reaches the messy end. Retrieving a knife from his waistband, he cuts away the noose.
While the soldier is tending to the rope, the officer rolls down the window and motions for the monitors to approach the vehicle.
“See those body parts?” the officer points to the field. “That’s good protein, make sure it finds its way to the server’s kitchen. Understood?”
“Yes sir,” the monitors say in unison.
After the soldier reenters the vehicle, it speeds away towards the gate. They watch it until it is out of sight before ordering the servers to retrieve the body parts.
Some of the servers circle the field picking up pieces of the deceased woman, while others load the decapitated monitor into a wagon.
The last body they attend to is the server who started this series of unfortunate events. His bullet riddled body lies awkwardly in a pool of blood and mud. Emotions range from revering him for getting revenge and blaming him for the old woman’s death. Settling on reverence, they tenderly load his body into the wagon.
His handlers may have labeled him ‘field server’, but before that, he was just an average American, a typical citizen who once had a family and dreams. Like most other servers, his only crime was that he wasn’t politically or militarily connected nor well to do. When the soldiers captured him and his family nearly six months ago, his wife and children were taken from him. He wasn’t allowed to see them or have any contact whatsoever.
Like all men, he had a breaking point, and the eventual realization that he would never again see his family pushed him over the edge. It’s likely that when he meets his maker, he’ll be judged much less harshly than those who persecuted him.
His pain and struggles are over; his final chapter a stark reminder that life is cheap in the new world, and death is even cheaper.
2 the refuge
It’s still early January but Jake and his clan seem to be handling the harsh winter amazingly well. Aside from the occasional bout of cabin fever, there hasn’t been much time to get bored. Everyday chores are taken care of and special projects are never in short supply. Expanding the garden and building fences become a top priority. With ten stomachs to fill, they’ll need a big crop of fresh vegetables to supply them throughout the coming year.
The group dynamic couldn’t be better. Everyone pulls their own weight and then some. While Jake is the unofficial, and undisputed, head of the community, he leads largely by consensus. Because he is held in such high regard, the group defers to him when a difficult or unpopular decision needs to be made. In turn, Jake is careful not to take advantage of the group’s trust and rarely overrides a majority vote.
One of the first orders of business was to evaluate each person’s skills and talents to determine everyone’s primary role and responsibilities. Past life experiences weighed heavily in this decision and as it turned out, the group had a good mix of abilities.
Because of their farming experience, Jake and his quickly maturing son, Cole, took responsibility for the fields. Amy, who loved to cook, took on the household and cooking chores with the assistance of her teenage daughter Kayla, while Gena and her husband, Mike, managed the livestock. This left John and his significant other, Kate, to do the hunting and trapping. Their military training and sharpshooting experience were the deciding factor for this critically important job. Mike and Gena’s two children, both under ten, were still too young to do much more than act as go-fer’s though, as it turned out, being a go-fer was a pretty important job.
Even though the members had their primary responsibility, there were still plenty of secondary chores that needed to be done. While these chores weren’t specifically assigned, they seemed to get done promptly and without any issues. Maybe the group was still in its honeymoon stage or maybe they just felt fortunate to be given a second chance; whatever the reason, the group dynamic was very positive, with each person always ready to pitch in and help out when needed. All were aware of the importance of cooperation and understood that they were stronger together.
“We need a name for our farm,” Kayla announces while sitting down to breakfast one morning.
“A name, huh,” Jake says thoughtfully.
“Yeah, don’t all farms have names?” Kate pipes in.
“I think you’re confusing farms with ranches,” notes John.
“Ranch, farm, what’s the difference?” Gena is not inclined to quibble. “I agree with Kayla, we need a name.”
“Okay,” Jake responds. “Let’s hear some ideas.”
“How about Paradise Farms,” Gena offers.
A few in the group nod slowly though they appear to be lukewarm to the name.
“Camp Kay,” suggests Amy, looking at Jake.
Jake is caught off guard by this surprising suggestion. The person who now owns part of his heart selflessly suggests naming their new home after his deceased wife, the woman who used to own all of that particular real estate.
Looking at Amy, he deflects the idea, “While I appreciate the gesture, maybe we should keep brainstorming.”
In the ensuing lull, Jake notices Cole smiling at Amy warmly. It appears that her stock, at least in Cole eyes, has just increased a bit.
Restarting the conversation, John blurts out, “How about ‘The Refuge’?”
They all contemplate the name and begin slowly nodding their heads. It seems to strike a chord with everyone.
“I like it,” agrees Mike.
Others offer their opinions, and to a person, they are positive.
“It seems that we may have a winner,” announces Cole.
While it appears that they have a consensus, Jake wants to make it off
icial, “All in favor of the name, ‘Refuge’, say Aye.”
The Aye’s confirm a consensus.
“All against, say Nay,” adds Jake. The room remains quiet.
“Then the Aye's have it,” confirms Jake. “Our farm will be officially named ‘The Refuge.”
The kitchen is alive with excitement. As usual, Amy and Kayla have prepared a substantial meal, and everyone is happily devouring the delicious food that will fuel their busy day.
Their new home, ‘The Refuge’, as recently christened, has enough electricity to power the lights thanks to the solar panel system they brought from Jake’s farm. Two huge, mostly full propane tanks were on site when they arrived, providing cooking fuel as well as powering a propane refrigerator and freezer also left here by the previous owners. The propane tanks are also plumbed to a furnace but usually they choose to heat with wood to conserve the fuel.
With all of their good fortune, it doesn’t take much to make this group happy. They take nothing for granted and relish every moment of every day. They understand that it is only by the grace of God that they are here, on this earth, with the chance to rebuild, and they are determined not to squander the opportunity.
✽✽✽
Jake and Cole are working on the better of two old metal plows left behind by the farm’s previous owner. These two plows are the type that is pulled behind a horse. A driver’s seat is positioned above the blades and when occupied, applies downward pressure on them. The weight of the driver and plow, coupled with forward movement, drives the blades down and into the dirt, which turns over the compacted earth.
The plow they are trying to repair has a broken blade that needs to be replaced. Fortunately, the second plow, while not serviceable, is identical to the first and is a perfect source of spare parts.
“Cole,” Jake nods toward the toolbox, “Hand me that hammer.”
Cole hands his father the hammer and then firmly grips the end of the plow in an attempt to stabilize it. Jake raises the hammer and strikes down on the broken blade to dislodge it. He repeatedly strikes the blade until it breaks free. Moving to the second plow, he repeats the process.”