Fire From the Sky: Firestorm

by N. C. Reed

  “Holman wanted people on this farm. Now, thanks to you, he has them,” Clay seethed. “He wanted us distracted and now, thanks to you, we are. He wanted our resources strained even tighter than they were, and thanks to you he got it. You don't know a damn one of these people and yet you just opened our home to them and took on the responsibility of feeding and caring for them. Nice going.” With that he stomped out, leaving Victoria Tully, Zach Willis and Nate Caudell on guard duty.

  “Pancho!” he called out as he exited the building.

  “Yo!”

  “Round up Abby and send her over here,” he ordered. “We need at least one more armed woman. She's had at least some training and can take care of herself when she's not being stupid. Let her help stand guard inside.”

  “Got it,” Juarez nodded and went to track down Abigail Sanders. Clay turned his face to the sky and let the rain beat down on him for a minute, trying to let the stress bleed away.

  “Why me, God?” he asked the cloud filled sky.

  He got no immediate answer.

  –

  “So, what happened?” Lainie asked as Clay got home, soaked through to the bone.

  “My mom just took on a dozen-and-a-half women, along with their kids, and left us responsible for caring for them,” Clay said without preamble. “And her and my father basically accused me of being a heathen because I didn't want to do it,” he added as he kicked off his boots.

  “Why would they do that?” she asked, concerned.

  “Because it's God's will or something,” he shrugged. “How the hell do I know. Now we have a building full of possible spies and saboteurs that we have to watch, which leaves us short-handed everywhere else. That, my dear, is what happened.”

  “I'm sorry,” she told him softly. “Hot water is on if you want to get a shower,” she added.

  “Thanks,” he told her. “I appreciate it.”

  –

  “How do you still have hot water?” a woman asked, coming from her turn in the shower, toweling her hair dry.

  “We don't always,” Angela replied. “Only certain days and then only a few hours. We turned the hot water heater on today for you all. Doing so will cost us the opportunity to do it again for a while.”

  “Man, I'm looking forward to being able to get a hot shower every day again, I can tell you that!” the woman apparently hadn't heard her, or flat out ignored what Angela had said.

  “You won't get-”

  “Hey, there's no more hot water!” a new voice complained from the bathroom. “What happened?”

  “It's all been used I suppose,” Angela replied. “We’ll have to wait for it to reheat. This is why I asked everyone to be brief using it. It's not that large.”

  “Well, how long will it take?” the woman demanded. “I'm ready to be clean again!”

  “It will take as long as it takes,” Angela told her. “In the meantime, come and sit down. All we can do is wait.”

  “I don't like this food!” she heard someone say loudly from the front of the building. “Why do we have to eat this!”

  “It's what we have,” she heard Victoria Tully explain. “Look, heat it with this tab,” she saw Tully kneel down and activate the heat tab. “Let it do that for a minute or so and it will be hot. That will make it taste a little better.”

  “I wanted real food,” the woman said, taking the bag but only reluctantly. “We were told there would be food here.”

  “And here it is,” Vicki nodded. “We can't give you what we don't have. Sorry.”

  “You're just keeping the good stuff for yourselves,” another muttered, thinking she was keeping her voice down but Angela heard her.

  “Listen to me,” Angela had heard enough. “How ungrateful are all of you? We bring you in here, offer you the chance to get clean, try to find clothes for everyone by taking from our own belongings, we feed you, try to see to your medical issues, and this,” she pointed to the general area where the complaints had come from, “is how you repay us? Incessant complaining and muttering behind our backs? Do any of you know what time of year it is? Our food comes from the ground! We have to grow it! This is the time of year we plant, and then we wait and hope for a good harvest in the fall! Until then, all we have to eat is what we've manage to save through the winter and what we can afford from the grocery store! And you may have noticed that there's no more going to the grocery store.”

  “You've got food,” a large woman with an intricate tattoo showing through the open neck of her shirt sneered. “Old Man Holman told us all about how you've been hoarding food out here while the rest of us starve!”

  “Holman is it?” Angela snorted. “Holman wouldn't know the truth if it bit his lazy ass!” she shot back. “That man has a vendetta against my husband and is using you to try and fill it. He sent you out here hoping you'd cause us trouble just like you're doing now.”

  “But you farm,” another one said, this one almost in question rather than accusation. “You have to have food. Everyone knows that's where food comes from!”

  “Once each year,” Angela nodded. “We harvest, when the Lord grants us one, every October and November. We put food away to last through the winter and hold through the next summer until we can harvest again. This time, however,” she cast her gaze over them all, “we gave away everything we could spare to the people who were sheltered at the church in Jordan, running from the fire and the violence in Peabody. Took food and took cattle on the hoof to be killed and cooked for the hungry. Took food that we ourselves needed, in fact. And we've fed others through the winter as well, mostly children who have lost their parents and their homes.”

  “So yes, farms produce food, but we only do so once a year, and then only when we get a good harvest. And that's why you're eating what you are,” she pointed to the MRE meals that had been passed out. “Because that's mostly what we have left until our crop comes in. We're giving you food that we ourselves may need before then. So, I will thank you to keep your complaints to yourself or else you are free to return where you came from.”

  “I'm not leaving,” the big woman with the tattoo said with a snort. “I like it here just fine. You got a good thing going here and I'm gonna get my share of it!” Several others nodded their agreement and muttered similar sentiments.

  “You're out of here,” Vicki said suddenly, moving to where the larger woman sat. “On your feet. You can take the meal with you, but you're leaving.”

  “Little girl, you better back up off me befo-” was as far as the woman got before Vicki's boot smashed into her face, sending her ass over shoulders to land face down on the floor. Vicki gave the now silent women a frosty look.

  “Anyone else think they're here to get a free ride at our expense?” she demanded. “Don't be shy, now,” she goaded. “You can join the mouthy one if you want.” She looked down at the small girl who had been with the now unconscious complainer.

  “Sorry kid,” she said quietly. “But when you're back out there, having it hard, remember that your mom's big mouth is why you couldn't stay here.”

  The little girl looked up at the female soldier, eyes slightly damp, and said the last thing any of the people from the farm expected to hear;

  “She's not my mama.”

  –

  For a few seconds, no one reacted to the child's statement. Then, as if on a signal only they could see, five women lunged to their feet, at least two drawing weapons as they did so…and dying in a hail of gunfire as Nate Caudell and Victoria Tully put a three-round burst in each one. Neither discriminated, assuming the other three were also armed and shooting them as well. Even with the suppressors still attached the sound of the rifles was deafening. Without the suppressors there would likely have been some burst ear drums in the building. Instead it was just ringing ears all around.

  “Nobody move!” Vicki was forced to yell to be heard over the din of screaming children. “Stay where you are or be shot! There won't be any more warnings!”

  Abig
ail had only just joined them and stood stunned at how quickly things had come apart. Nate crossed to where she stood and took her rifle.

  “Gather the children that were with the women we just put down,” he told her softly. “Bring them over here behind us.”

  “Okay,” she nodded and moved to do just that, coaxing the still screaming children to accompany her to safety.

  “Zach, bring Mrs. Sanders out of there,” Vicki said. Zach had been with Angela when the shooting had started and had placed himself between her and the others, rifle at the ready. Now Angela, ears still ringing and starting to drift toward shock, could hear Nate speaking into his radio as she drew closer, Zach maintaining his position between her and the women still on the floor.

  “. . .more help in here. We need to up the alert status since we were just attacked from within. And we need to prepare ground transport to get these people out of here, too.”

  “What?” one woman cried. “You're sending us away?”

  “You bet we are,” Nate nodded. “After what just happened, how did you expect anything else? Abby, I want you to stand them up, one at a time, and place them against the wall,” he told her quietly. “Search them to make sure they aren't carrying any more weapons. If any of them gives you trouble, push them away and we’ll shoot them.”

  “Got it,” Abby nodded and moved to the nearest woman. “On your feet.” The woman got to her feet, glaring at everyone in the building. Oddly enough, she moved away to the wall without a word for her child she left behind. Abby moved the little girl, who looked to be about four, to where the others sat, then moved back to search the woman.

  “We didn't have anything to do with that!” the woman who had spoken to Nate objected again. “That was all them!” she pointed to the now dead attackers and the unconscious woman Vicki had kicked.

  “And you knew they were going to do it and said nothing,” Vicki nodded. “You sat there and let it happen.”

  “They would have killed us if we'd warned you!” another exclaimed.

  “Road full of armed soldiers and you said nothing,” Nate seethed. “Room with three soldiers, you said nothing. Other than complain that we didn't have better to offer you. Now be quiet or you won't even get a ride back.”

  “Next,” Abby tapped the woman who had complained first on the shoulder. “Up and over to the wall. No, leave the boy,” Abby shook her head.

  “I'm not leaving my son!” the woman all but screeched but stopped as a rifle muzzle appeared in her face. The woman looked up to see the unforgiving gaze of Victoria Tully looking back at her.

  “You can leave him for right now and join your friend at the wall, or you can leave him permanently,” Abby said softly. “I know what I'd choose.”

  Tears still falling, the woman set her son who honestly looked nothing like her on the floor and joined her comrade against the wall. The little boy started crying at once, holding his arms up toward the woman who had left him.

  “Is it really necessary to separate the children from their mothers?” Angela asked quietly.

  “We already have one child claiming that the woman she was with isn't actually her mother,” Vicki reminded her. “And at this point, we can't risk anything. Honey,” she said louder, aiming her rifle at one of the women still seated on the floor, “if you want that pistol then by all means pick it up,” her voice was far too calm. “But when you do you better be prepared to join your friends.”

  “They aren't my friends,” the woman said, shaking her head. “And I'm just trying to get it away from me. I don't really know much about guns so. . .I'd rather it not be near me.”

  “Then move away from it and leave it alone,” Vicki's voice held no understanding at all. “Touch it again and that will be it. Understand?” The woman nodded shakily and scooted away, leaving the child that had been with her. As if realizing her mistake, she reached out to take hold of the child but the little boy evaded her.

  “Hold it,” Nate ordered, moving closer to the group. “Buddy, is she your mom?” he asked the boy.

  “Of course, I'm his m-” the woman began but Nate cut her off.

  “I'm not asking you,” his voice was cold. “Hey little man,” he spoke softly. “Is that your mama?” he pointed toward the woman in question.

  The boy looked up at Nate, lips pursed, and shook his head.

  “No?” Nate's eyes hardened.

  “No!” the boy shook his head again, exaggerating the movement to the point that it would have been funny in a different setting.

  “Why don't you come over here with me?” Nate said, holding his hand out. “We’ll see about getting you some candy, okay?”

  “'kay!” the boy nodded eagerly, bobbing and weaving over to the soldier who promised him candy. He joined the others already sitting behind Victoria Tully. The children had begun to calm down slightly with the noise gone and the fact that they were calming down despite being separated from their 'mothers' was just more proof that the women in question weren't their mothers after all.

  “Are any of you the actual mothers of the kids you're with?” Nate demanded, looking over the group.

  “I am,” the woman forced to leave her son behind and move to the wall said at once, crying. Three other women raised their hands, their children clinging to them in fear.

  “Rest of you decide to come clean or what?” None of the women who had not claimed 'their' children spoke, but none dared to look in Nate's direction.

  Before anything else could happen, the door opened and Clay stepped inside with Lainie, Gordy and Patricia following. Lainie and Patricia went to the children behind Victoria and began quietly talking to them. Zach was gathering the remaining children from the fake mothers and bringing them to join the other children. At Nate's nod he took the children from the four supposed real mothers as well. Once again this caused an upheaval among the children as mothers tearfully parted with their children.

  “Take them to the clinic. Zach, go with them. You too,” Clay told his mother. He was clearly angry.

  “I want-” she began but fell silent at the look of rage on her son's face.

  “Go with them,” he all but hissed. She nodded silently and went to help with the children. Soon the three women were herding the children out the door under Zach's watchful eyes, on their way to the clinic.

  “Finish searching them,” Clay told Abby. “Gordy, take Vic's place so she can help.”

  “Got it,” Gordy nodded and moved to do just that. With two of them doing the searching the work went quicker. Satisfied that no one else was armed, Clay looked at the women along the wall.

  “Here's what's going to happen,” he told them as the sound of a heavy engine was heard arriving outside. “You're going to carry them,” he pointed to the bodies, “outside and put them in the bucket of the backhoe sitting right outside. Then, you're going back to town. Actually, you're going to the Interstate and then I don't care where the hell you go after that. Now start carrying your friends out.”

  “I ain't carr-” one began but cut herself off short when a rifle muzzle was stuck in her face.

  “I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you,” Clay said quietly. “What was that again?” The woman glared at him in silence. Clay took two steps toward the woman.

  “I asked you a question.”

  “I didn't say nothing,” the woman replied.

  “Then grab one end of one of your dearly departed friends and start loading them up,” he ordered.

  There was no more arguing as the women did as ordered.

  “Not you four,” Nate said, pointing to the women who were apparently actually the mothers of the children in their care. “You stand over there,” he pointed to the opposite side of the building. The women did as ordered without complaint. They were learning.

  The remaining women each paired off on one of the bodies and moved it outside where the backhoe was idling, tossing it into the bucket. Water splashed out as the first body went in, hitting the two women in the face an
d leading to a round of cursing. Once they were finished, Clay ordered two of them back inside to get the still unconscious woman and bring her outside. Though still groggy, the woman was regaining consciousness and made it outside with assistance from the other two.

  “Can't say it's been a pleasure ladies, but it's time for you to head out,” Clay said simply as a truck pulled up, followed by a Hummer.

  “Load up ladies,” Clay ordered, pointing to the truck bed.

  “I'm not going back,” the large tattooed woman said.

  “Don't care where you go,” Clay told her truthfully. “You're not staying here, that's all. This is a ride to the Interstate and from there you can call your own shots. Now load up.”

  “No,” the woman shook her head.

  “You can get in the truck, or they can load you in with the others,” Clay told her, pulling his rifle up and aiming it in her general direction.

  “You won't do it,” the woman told him.

  “We did them,” Nate said calmly, pointing to the backhoe. “What makes you think we won't do the same to you?”

  She looked at the backhoe. A look of nervousness crossed her face and she licked her lips. Without another word she clambered aboard the truck, sitting dejectedly behind the cab. The others followed suit until all were loaded. There was no fanfare as Clay looked at them.

  “We see you here again, you die,” he warned them softly. “You may want to head away from Peabody rather than go back, but that's up to you.” He hit the tailgate of the truck with his fist three times and the truck started off, followed by the Hummer with the machine gun on top casually covering the truck bed. Clay watched them go before heading back inside.

  There was still work to be done.

  CHAPTER NINE

  -

  “Bring us some bleach, hot water, a mop and some rags,” Clay told Gordy and Abby, who nodded and went to get the requested materials. Clay looked at the four women in silence for the three minutes it took for his niece and nephew to return with the items he'd sent them for.

  “You four, clean up this mess,” Clay ordered, indicating the blood where the others had been shot. When they hesitated, Clay looked at Nate.