Nuclear Rising

by Christian Smith

  He chuckles, a sardonic laugh, replying, “You forget dear. I’m a simple farmer, not a soldier, and most of the men here are farmers as well. We can’t fight. We can’t kill.”

  Staring at Roger so hard it causes him to look down at the ground to avoid my gaze, I finally reply, “You can fight. And you can kill. I’ve seen all of the men here go on hunts and bring back deer and rabbits – you can’t tell me you can’t do the same with some scum that are worse than any animal.”

  “But-“

  “We need to survive Roger! It’s either us or them. It’s either they rape your wife and daughters and bare children with them, or we fight them first and make them fear us. If they fear us, they’ll never come back – you will have your peace and we can finally live our lives.”

  Roger breathes in deeply, glancing into the falling sun as he rests his arm against a wood-splintered fencepost. “I suppose you’re right, Celeste. But they have far more men than we do – how could we ever have enough guns to go against them?”

  “We may not have what we need here – you’re exactly right – they’d massacre us. But what if we formed a union with all the other farmers. What if you trained us? And I mean, what if you trained every man, woman and child how to fight, how to shoot a gun, stab with a knife? You’d have the biggest army around if you did that.”

  Roger shakes his head sullenly.

  “I can’t ask them-“

  “You can ask them Roger,” I say sharply. “You can ask them all to fight! They respect you, and they will fight for their home, for their lives, because you know as well as I do that no matter where you go the same thing will happen. These men will find you and they will take whatever you’ve built away from you.”

  “We’ll need time.”

  “We’ve got that.”

  “And we’ll have to arrange things in secret, communicate in secret, train in secret.”

  “There’s a way to do that too.”

  “You’re right,” Roger finally says. “You’re right. We may as well die fighting these low life’s.”

  “Oh, we’re not dying,” I say smugly, clapping Roger on the back. “We’re going to have our revenge.”

  ┈┈┈┈┈․° ☣ °․┈┈┈┈┈

  The day had come at last.

  A beautiful spring April morning, robins singing to their babies as the deciduous trees sprouted to life and wildflowers cast a perfumed aroma into the air around the McDougall farm. For all intents and purposes, it seemed like a regular workday, starting early to take care of some of the animals as the rooster crowed away to warn of the oncoming dawn.

  Strapping a hunting knife of Roger’s to my thigh, I look at myself in the broken glass mirror in my room. Over the past months I had become a completely different girl. Instead of worrying about my nails breaking, if I had food on my face, or if I were going to be a victim of rape, I had become fierce.

  Determined.

  No remorse or regret about killing anything. Especially men who raped women.

  When I wasn’t working in the fields getting the farm ready for planting or chopping firewood, I was busy training with the local farmers. How to hunt. How to kill. How to even take the hide off an animal without damaging the precious meat below.

  We had been using some old homing pigeons to communicate with each other secretly, arranging training sessions with every man, woman, and child in a secluded meadow just a mile from the McDougall farm. The other farm families didn’t come at first, but after another couple raiding parties, it didn’t take much to convince them. Once we had a group of about a hundred people that could actually aim, stab, and punch, we put out word that the McDougall farm had a particularly successful harvest last fall, so much so we would have to share some of the surplus with other farmers on this particular day in April. That juicy gossip would be just enough to bring the raiders in, and then some.

  As I put my plain, cream-colored work dress on, I stare at my body – just as fierce as the rest of me had become. No longer soft, my curves had become replaced by hard lines, chiseled abs, and ripped muscles. Scars had appeared, one on my thigh, another on my shoulder, and some on my back as I had begun practicing using knives and hatchets. My once long, flowing hair had been cut short, wispy flyaways at the ends winging out on the sides.

  The pain no longer scared me – it had become an aphrodisiac to me, because I imagined the day, this day, that I would give it back to someone else.

  Grabbing a pistol, I stash it under my bra where a small pouch sits concealed under my billowy dress, and step out into the fresh, morning air, heading toward the crumbling red barn where the cows are kept.

  Before long, I hear a man’s voice call out.

  I can’t help smirking when he does.

  “Hey there! Woman!” a familiar voice shouts, as I turn to see a ragged, blond-haired man I knew to be Jax. Behind him stand about twenty rugged men, including the two burly men that were with him that night. None of them recognize me as they stare hungrily in my direction. “We need food – we heard you have plenty of it here, so why don’t you share some or all of it so we can all be on our ways.”

  I walk up to him slowly, feigning fear on my face by scrunching up my eyebrows. Speaking in a higher voice than normal, and with a tremble, I reply, “P-Please don’t hurt us – we’re just a bunch of humble farmers – we d-don’t have much food to give.”

  With lightning quick movement, Jax’s hand reaches over my wrist, grasping it tight, flashes of memories coming from before. But I swallow it – I won’t let fear consume me.

  “Do I know you, girl?”

  His eyes scan my body up and down as I turn away frightened eyes and reply, “N-No sir. Please don’t hurt me.”

  “Ha!” he chuckles. “You hear that Virgil – I think we have a prize to take with us today – I bet there’s something good under all those layers. How many men do you think she’ll last for? Five maybe?”

  Another low throaty chuckle issues out from Virgil, as the horde of men begin to close in around us.

  I scream out, attempting to punch weakly against Jax’s chest.

  “What’s going on here?” I hear Roger call, which stop the men in their tracks, immediately reaching for their weapons.

  “Nothing to see old man,” Jax replies. “We’ve come to collect our due payment for keeping you safe from all the evils around you. We’re taking this one with us as a bonus for the extra work we’ve put in. We’ll take most of your harvest also – it’s been a hard winter for the women and children at home.”

  Roger walks up to the horde, unabated, with his limp overexaggerated. “You won’t be taking anyone,” he replies. “And we only share our food with those who deserve it.”

  “You trying to be tough old man?”

  “Not trying, boy. I am tough.”

  Jax laughs loudly, a couple men joining in. “You hear that boys? The old gimp here wants to put up a fight all the sudden!”

  Roger grabs my hand, pulling me hard away from the men.

  “Leave now,” he says, pointing away from the farm. “This is your last chance – leave and never come back.”

  “I don’t like threats old man.”

  And before anyone can react, a knife flashes out from Jax’s belt, quickly lodging under Roger’s ribs, making him slump to the ground, grasping as blood comes spilling out.

  “Roger, no!” I scream, ducking down to check his wound.

  And in a second, all hell is loosed.

  Flanking the raider men on both sides, twenty farmer men each take turns firing pistols and lever-action rifles, while children throw rocks to the center of the group, splitting heads with wide gashes as men duck to the ground for cover.

  “Get back!” Jax yells to his men, motioning for them to run. But before they can make the road, another group mostly of women carrying knives, pitch forks, and shovels cuts off their escape. The line of women closest to the men start hacking away at them, blood spraying into the air along with tee
th as metal contacts flesh.

  At least half of the raider men lay slumped on the ground, battered, bleeding, and broken. A loud whistle rings out into the din of noise, and from somewhere in the distance, another whistle calls back.

  I realize almost too late what’s happening and yell wildly to the women, “Get back here! Now!”

  I let a shot go with my pistol, hitting one of the men closest to Jax, making him glare with rage in my direction.

  Another group of grizzled raiders comes marching into the clearing where we all stand, several of them carrying burning torches, which they start throwing into the forest surrounding the farm. Flames begin licking up the trees with wicked tendrils.

  I glance around our little militia – still outnumbering the hardened raider men, but we’re quickly losing numbers now the other group has arrived and forced us all to retreat behind the houses to take cover. Nearby, the shed where I had given birth goes up in flames as the straw inside ignites.

  “Don’t give up!” I yell. “Everyone fight! Kids, women! Take up arms now! We fight for our homes now!”

  I see a ten year old nearby pick up a shotgun from his dad who lays awkwardly against the wooden barricade we’re hiding behind.

  He begins to shoot into a crowd of Remnant raiders, knocking several to the ground with buckshot.

  A pitchfork whizzes through the air, striking into the face of another raider. Rocks fly again with more fury this time. Screams are heard from both sides as the chaos ensues.

  Looking all over for Jax, I can’t see him or Virgil anywhere – I’m guessing both of them have already high-tailed it back to their hiding holes, leaving their men behind to die.

  As the last of the raider men form a tight circle with no more than ten able-bodied soldiers, a red-headed man raises his hands and throws his gun to the ground, immediately forcing the other remaining Remnant raiders to do the same.

  “Close around them!” I yell out. “Don’t let any of them escape!”

  Surveying the area, we’ve probably lost about twenty men, some of the women have small wounds but are treating each other, and most of the children, though dirty or covered with blood, only have small scratches for the most part.

  A flash of blond hair against the red barn catches my eye – I feel my legs running before I have a second to hesitate. This was it.

  My heart pounds with excitement as I follow drops of blood leading to the door of the barn. A scream comes from inside – I turn the corner to see the rotund form of Virgil and the muscled Jax cornering one of Claude McDougall’s little girls, Rose in one of the empty animal stalls. I immediately pull the trigger, launching a bullet into the back of Virgil, making him lose balance and stumble against a feed trough for one of the cows while he clutches his back groaning.

  “I guess it’s a threesome, eh?” Jax says, pulling out his knife and lunging toward me as Rose slinks away against the back wall of the barn. I feel my feet trip over a rake lying on the ground and fall hard on my butt against the hard dirt floor, the gun scattering out of my hands. Immediately I feel the weight of a full-grown man straddle me and push my head into the ground.

  My hands fumble around, trying to punch his face, but he only grabs my hands and forces them down.

  “You’ve caused a lot of trouble, girl,” Jax says between gritted teeth. “I’m going to collect my debt from you personally for it.”

  “Help!” I call out, though I’m sure no one can hear.

  A slap from his backhand leaves my skin burning.

  He spits against my cheek, and as I turn my head in desperation, I can’t see anyone to help me. He’s fumbling with his pants, trying hastily to loosen his belt and unbutton his pants.

  Suddenly a loud thud sounds against Jax’s head as an unlit metal lantern smacks the side of his head, making a dazed look appear. He slashes in the air, cutting Rose’s leg in the process and making her cry out in pain as she falls to the ground.

  He turns back to me grimacing with pain, rage screwing his face tight.

  “Now where were we then?” He asks sadistically.

  I smile back, equally sadistic, and for just a second he looks down at me wrinkling his eyebrows in confusion.

  My free hand issues a quick swipe up with the razor-sharp hunting knife, stabbing through his pants into the spot where his balls might be.

  “Ahhhhhhh! You bitch!” He calls out wildly, rolling to the side grasping his groin, which still has the knife lodged to the hilt. “My balls! You stabbed my balls!” He repeats it over and over as I kick his side, making him roll on his back while a dark stain appears in his pants.

  Immediately I pull the knife out from his groin, making him yell out once again in pain. Straddling on top of him, he tries to fight back, but I slice the tendons in his wrists and stab again into his shoulders before he can do so, and quiet sobs come from under his breath in reply as his hands lay limply at his sides.

  Staring down at him, I speak in very slow, specifically chosen words. “What’s your name anyway boy? I really want to know who it is I’ve killed before I do the deed.”

  His eyes grow wide with fear, suddenly recognizing where he’d seen me. But before he can say another word, my blade comes down quickly into his chest, piercing through his heart several times.

  He gasps, his eyes still eyeing me while the life drains out of him.

  Lying against a pile of hay, I breathe in deep breaths like I’ve never breathed before.

  A smile crosses my lips, and I let out a crazed laugh.

  Finally.

  CHAPTER 21

  Madness

  A silence rings out in the large living room where we now sit, both staring into each other’s eyes without saying a word. Just processing.

  “So,” I finally say, taking Celeste’s hand, which I feel shake for a second. “You’re pretty badass now?”

  She chuckles, shaking her head. “Nah, it was everybody working together. That’s how Terra Tribe started – just a few families wanting to stop the raiding and pillaging. We all banded together to protect ourselves.”

  “And that man, the short stocky guy, he’s-“

  “The other McDougall brother, yes. Francis is his name – though most everyone calls him Frankie since he absolutely hates it. He’s my agricultural advisor and the other man-“

  Eyeing her suspiciously, I mutter, “Your boyfriend?”

  “HA!” she laughs, spitting in the air. “Don’t even – believe me, he’s not my type.”

  “And you trust these two guys?”

  She sighs heavily, replying, “I trust them, yes, but outside of those two, I’m not sure anymore.”

  “But how did you build a whole kingdom?” I say, as Celeste takes her hand back, putting it in her lap. “I mean, this place is pretty amazing. Like super legit.”

  Celeste smiles, her azure eyes flashing in light from a lamp. “Hard work Quinn. Believe it or not, one plant at a time, and one brick at a time. After all the farmers came together, we built the wall, stopped sharing our goods freely, and basically made food a scarce resource for everyone else.”

  “Isn’t that-“

  “Cruel? Yes. But we had to survive, and by doing that we made food become the main currency. Dollars don’t matter much if you’re starving – which meant we could pretty much trade food for all the weapons and technology we could ever want. And that’s how we got here.”

  Another smile as she leans against her elbows, her full lips reminding me of how it felt. Her kiss.

  Looking away from her lips, my eyes trail to a small antique clock sitting on one of the fancy side tables.

  “So why did you create this place? I mean down to the tacky clock over there – this place is exactly like my parent’s place. Why?”

  Celeste’s eyes trail down to her feet, her hands squishing her cheeks. “I guess, if I couldn’t find you, I figured I’d build back the memories. Like the pain of waking up in a changed world and what happened to me wouldn’t be real here. It
didn’t help though. What happened to you Quinn? Why didn’t you come sooner?”

  She looks expectantly at me, her eyes glowing and her lips parted as if she were waiting on the edge of a knife.

  I tell her all the details, about Brig, the bear, Sledge, Rose, even Claude McDougall and Patton Eyre. About how I only had a day and a half to get to Brig or else she could possibly die. The only thing I left out was about how I felt weak and strong at the same time when I’d talk to Bree, about how she made tiny radioactive butterflies flutter in my stomach.

  This time she takes my hand, sitting in silence for a minute, then with a rasp in her voice, eventually says, “I had no idea Quinn – I’m so sorry I wasn’t able to find you. I thought about you every morning when I’d wake up. And now, I can’t believe-“

  “That I’m actually here, that we had a boy, that we never got married and had our happily ever after.”

  She exhales, her breath smelling sweet like apples. “Life would’ve been so different.”

  She licks her lips, making them look even fuller as she pouts them. I look at them, wanting so badly to just kiss them, my throat tightening with fear and wanting desire at the same time.

  Remembering how it felt to kiss her makes my stomach flip flop for a second.

  “You know you can kiss me,” her sharp jawline tight as she whispers. “Technically, we are still engaged.” She brings her ring finger up, flashing the circular diamonds in the light.

  A tightness wraps around my whole body, freezing up my muscles like a deer in headlights. I knew I would probably regret it, I mean we were completely different people.

  But it had been five years since-

  Before I can finish the thought, I feel my lips close around hers, my eyes tightly shutting out the world around me, inhaling the scent of lilac that comes from Celeste’s hair that’s fallen around my face. My hands reach up, gently wrapping around her cheeks as if I never want to let her go again. Tiny shocks shoot out from where her warm, wet lips touch mine, and though they are full, her lips are tough, not as soft and supple as they once were.