by Chris Hechtl
They got donations from the neighboring farms, but it was never enough. With the tax people coming around, those same farms were getting squeezed hard.
Then there was the problem of water. Some of the refugees had not boiled it and were getting the runs. That was a problem, especially since they had few medics and little medicine. He'd lost a couple of old folks and some kids to the runs. Diarrhea was no joke he thought.
He had to do something. Find a way to feed his people. Not just feed them though he thought as the sky began to cloud up. Shelter, yes, and clothes … he grimaced. The human bastards were collecting pelts he'd heard.
He snorted in annoyance and then went around trying to figure something out.
<)>^<)>/
Captain Zhukov stomped into the caves, swearing at the mud from the rains outside. He hated the rain, but he hated the cold even more. Word from Major Lockhart was that their base was in the snow zone. How much remained was a big question mark. When was another, though he was grimly certain it would come soon now that the weather had cooled off.
He had done his usual check on things and hadn't liked a few things he'd seen. Like the skins on boards or hanging on racks around the perimeter. First they stank, and second, he didn't like the untidy look.
“Get those skins removed. And tell Brillo to quit shrinking heads. He's in the Death's Head Brigade, not the Head Hunters so start acting like it,” the captain said to the duty guard. The guard nodded and made a note in the log as Lieutenant Zevaya came in behind the captain.
“Still no word on resistance?” the lieutenant asked. The captain shook his head. “What? None? What does it take to get these people to stand up for themselves?”
“Count your blessings,” the captain snorted.
“No, sir,” she said firmly, making him look at her again. “I like a stupid target that stands up and makes it easy. Smart opponents are a pain in the ass,” she said.
He snorted. “They'll just die tired in the end. They'll get desperate once winter kicks in. Their friends won't be able to help them as much since they'll be trying to stay alive as well.”
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant agreed. “I wish the general would let us go hunting though, sir.”
“Well, he won't. And I can't countersign using the suits unless we've got a hard target. I don't want the maintenance. And no, before you ask, I'm not letting our boys and girls go hunting without them,” he said with a shake of his head as she opened her mouth.
She looked away as she closed her mouth. He snorted again and then led the way to his office. Once inside he shucked his heavy coat and then poured each of them a drink. He capped the whiskey bottle, then took a seat behind his desk.
“I guess we should have gone to Hidoshi's World, sir,” Lieutenant Zevaya said, staring into her glass.
“Luck of the draw … or someone's way of getting back at me? I don't know. I know the general insisted on an elite unit. He had the INTEL saying it was required. I wanted the experience. We got suckered,” the captain said. “Now we need to deal with it.”
“Yes, sir. But, sir, if we get transport …”
The captain knocked back his drink and then grimaced again. “I know. The first available transport that shows up and we're out of here. I'm not going to stay longer than that. I'm kicking myself for not going with the transports that just left. And I'm going to continue to kick myself until a new one turns up. When it does is anyone's guess. But, for the time being, we might as well make ourselves comfortable,” he said.
The lieutenant nodded. “Yes sir.”
“I thought the tax plan would stir up unrest,” the captain said, turning in his chair to look at the map. “I guess I was wrong; this planet doesn't have a spine.”
“No, sir,” the lieutenant said. “No challenge. Our people are getting bored—bored and stale. I don't like that; they tend to get into trouble when they get bored.”
“I know,” the captain replied with a weary sigh and head shake. “I'm so hoping a transport will sail across the horizon, but I'm afraid we're stuck until the relief mission. Whenever the hell that will be,” he growled.
“They've got to come for us sometime, sir. We're an elite unit on a backwater world. They'll need us when they go deeper into the sector,” the lieutenant said.
“From your lips to the brass's ears,” the captain said as he poured himself another drink.
<)>^<)>/
“Jon,” Vanessa said craning her neck to look out the window. It was getting near evening, and they were all happy but tired from their labor. The harvest was mostly in, they had a second planned, and a third from the greenhouses planned just before the almanac said the snows were going to hit.
“Yeah?” he asked tiredly, rolling his shoulders. They'd done a lot of work cutting wood, and he sure felt it. He'd been tempted to heat up the old tub but was too tired to do so. And the girls had been too busy weeding the gardens and fields to do it for him.
“Chickens are loose still. They are going through the garden again, guess we missed something or other. But that damn red rooster has gotten into a fight with one of the sows. He's limping pretty bad,” she said.
“All right,” Jon said. He'd just finished sharpening the axe and had put it up above the door where he usually kept one of his loaded double barrel shotguns. He got up with a groan, stretched, and then grabbed the axe and hefted it.
“He's bad,” Vanessa said quietly. “I think I see blood.”
“All right, I'll put him out of his misery. Dumb cluck never could tell time or know when to leave off pestering others,” the farmer said as he hefted the axe onto his shoulder. “Have Gretchen get the chickens to bed in their coup. The dino ones too. The boys should be done with the evening milking by now. I'll check on them while I'm out,” he said.
“String that bird up where it is cool,” Vanessa ordered. “Try to remember to not let the blood drip on anything important. And for heaven's sake make sure the flies and mosquitoes don't get anything all over it,” she said. “That's a big bird, we can have it for supper Sunday,” she said.
“Anything else?” he asked with a snort and smirk.
She eyed him and then shooed him on as she took her shoes off. “Go on with you,” she said with a dismissive wave.
He snorted and left, pushing the screen door open and then closing it with a bang and click. She winced but had no cause to complain; at least, he'd remembered to shut it.
Now that the sun was down and it was warm out, the mosquitoes were coming in from the creek and pond. They were bad. They had traps and birds, but the damn things came in clouds.
She looked out the window to the evening. It was nice out, humid, but the sun was down so the heat would hopefully soon back off. Hopefully she thought tiredly as she rubbed her aching feet.
<)>^<)>/
Harvest time was a rough time; they needed all hands to get it in and processed before it went bad. The cooler temperatures made it easier and gave them a bigger window than when they had the late spring and midsummer harvests though. Vanessa led the effort to boil, can, and preserve everything that came into the kitchen.
Normally they'd be going to town or to the neighbors for harvest parties, but with the invaders, no one had sent out invitations. Not many had an excess. Jon and Vanessa had considered it briefly but then had decided against it. They didn't want to advertise what they had; it would draw unwanted attention their way.
Half their harvest went into buying the things they'd need to survive the winter and for what they would need come spring when it was time to plant. Jon had to drive all the way to the neighboring towns to get some of his tools and equipment mended or replaced. He hadn't been at all happy about the daylong event, but it had been necessary.
He'd sworn about someone setting up shop to take over in Fallbrook where Freya and Chuck had left off when he'd gotten back … but then he'd dropped the matter.
After the second harvest in the late fall, all they would have was the f
ood they could grow indoors or in the greenhouses and whatever Jon and the boys could trap or hunt in the woods around the property. Once winter set in, they would be mostly confined to the farm. Jon had muttered darkly about not even going out to tap the sugar maple trees during the winter, but Vanessa didn't call him on his bluff. He always griped about it, but he loved the sugary treat just as much as the kids did. And he enjoyed doing something other than sitting around the house complaining he was bored.
Working Paterson's fields as well would be tough she knew. He'd done it before though, when Paterson had broken his arm so she knew he and the boys could handle it.
One thing they were reluctant to do initially was allow the kids to go off to school. The kids had a narrow window each year to go to school. In the fall they had six weeks before the first snows hit. Then maybe a week or two after before the school closed until an Indian summer hit or spring.
The kids went to school in the spring as the grounds dried out … right up until planting time. Once the fields were plowed and sown and the mending done, the parents would let the young kids go back to school while they held onto the older ones … up until mid-spring when they'd turn them loose to go as well.
Each harvest meant backbreaking work for the kids and a break from school. But not this year, which had bothered Vanessa and the kids. The kids didn't like the muggy dark school much but enjoyed some of the lessons and loved the history lessons. Vanessa had been bemusedly aware that Alvin and Kevin had a not-so-secret crush on their school marm.
It wasn't until Miss Broussard had come calling and had practically begged them to let the kids go did they talk about it again. Vanessa had insisted the children needed the education. Jon had finally given in and had paid the inflated tithe to let the kids go.
The kids traveled in a buggy to the school each morning after morning chores, then returned home in the afternoon for their chores as usual. Vanessa helped them with their homework but became increasingly troubled by the new curriculum.
She went to the school after the second week and was impressed by the new technology that the invaders had provided. The school had a heater and electric lights. It also had been painted and cleaned up. Anna had an assistant who helped her teach.
The class had been divided into slow and fast learners before. Now it was divided differently, though she wasn't certain about the logic. She was pleased that Kevin and Gretchen got high marks, though questioned the classes.
She became even more troubled when she heard the assistant lecturing the students about how treason can fester, even in the home. When he told the kids to turn in their neighbors if they harbored enemies of the state, she froze for a long moment.
It took most of the ride home before she realized what they were doing. They were training her children to turn against her. Against their friends and neighbors. And since she and Jon had kept them mostly to the farm, the kids idolized new experiences and new things. They were drinking it up.
And there was little she or Jon could do about it. If she pulled them out of class, the invaders would know she realized.
“Damn them. Damn them to hell and back,” she muttered as she took the buggy to town to visit with Isabel and get the winter clothes she'd ordered.
Chapter 21
Shen grinned when he finished his latest circuit. He still had a few holdouts, people who hadn't been home when he'd come calling in Fallbrook, but he was just about done. One more day and he'd be finished and could hit the outlying areas.
He decided to take a bit of a celebration for his hard work. After all, he'd earned it. He was now a rich man and loved the fear and respect others turned to him and the free drinks. Qin Essen hadn't liked putting him up in his best room, nor giving him room and board, but the innkeeper hadn't complained a peep.
He hit the bar for a few drinks, then decided to pay a call on a certain lady that had taken his fancy. He left his guards in the bar as he climbed into the truck. Where he was going, he didn't need or want an audience he thought.
<)>^<)>/
Gretchen was out picking berries in the family's field along the road when a truck came up the drive. She saw a familiar face climb out of the truck. “Hi,” she said as the man got out with a bottle of whiskey. She bit her lip. Her apron was filled with berries.
“Hi yourself,” he said as he came over to her. When she ducked her head and tried to walk past him, he caught her with his free hand. “Where do you think you're going?” he demanded in a rough voice. She looked up to his face with fear in her eyes. He couldn't help it; he leaned down and kissed her roughly, taking what he wanted.
She struggled, so he broke the kiss. When she lashed out to slap him, he blocked her with the hand holding the bottle. He laughed as she tried to kick him, turning away. He managed to shove her onto the ground since the kick had thrown her off balance. He sat astride her, pinning her to the ground and then began to slap her face as she tried to fend him off. Then he pinned her to the ground and kissed her again as she whimpered.
“Just spread your legs and enjoy it like you do with all the other boys, slut,” he growled, biting her ear as his hands tore at her bodice and dress. She whimpered, which was intoxicating to him.
<)>^<)>/
Kevin had seen the truck but had forced himself to finish his chores before he went to see who it was. He liked talking to the Horathians despite what his parents said. He didn't like their attitude, didn't agree with them. Might made right, period in his opinion. After all, that was what they did to get him and his siblings to do their chores, right? A threat of a strapping …
He dusted his hands off as he went to the yard. There was no truck on the apron. He frowned and then went to the drive, tucking a shovel under his arm as an excuse if anyone asked. He spotted the tail end of the truck near the berry bushes so he went to investigate.
He hopped the gate. Most likely the driver had spotted Gretchen and had stopped to chat, he reasoned. His dad and Alvin were on their way back from the greenhouses he knew.
He was thinking happy thoughts right up until he heard protesting cries and whimpering.
He slowed his pace instinctively and then rounded the corner to see a man on top of his sister thrusting into her as the girl cried.
“What the hell?” he demanded.
The guy looked up midthrust. The timing couldn't have been worse; he was about to cum and had been enjoying himself. He turned to look over his shoulder, face filled with rage at the unwanted interruption. “Go away or I'll slit your throat, boy,” Shen snarled.
“The hell you will,” Kevin snarled as he stepped in and swung the shovel like a club. “Get off her!” he snarled as the blade of the shovel hit the man in the head.
Shen felt intense pain and was knocked off the woman. Then more blows began to land on him so he curled up, trying to protect his head. One savage blow hit him in the back of his head, and he blacked out.
Kevin continued to beat the bastard as his father and brother came riding up the road behind him.
“Enough, son,” Jon said as he grabbed the shovel midswing. He looked down at the bloodied body. “Go get your mother,” he ordered over his shoulder to Alvin. Alvin gulped and tore off up the driveway.
Jon knelt to check the man and then shook his head. “Did I kill him?” Kevin asked. Jon nodded. Kevin went over and threw up in the bushes.
Jon watched his son and then his eyes turned to his daughter who was curled up in a fetal ball, sobbing softly. He grimaced and then looked up as Vanessa and the other kids came running. They paused at the tableau.
“What …?” Vanessa started. Jon shook his head and nodded his chin to Gretchen and then to Kevin. Her sick haunted eyes went from the body to their daughter, then to their son. “What have you done, son?” Vanessa demanded, slowly coming over to them. Kevin mutely pointed to his sister as he panted. She turned to see Gretchen's battered face and went to her. “Oh my ….” Gretchen instantly burst into tears again and clutched at her mother's d
ress.
Jon surveyed the damage. It was bad. He checked the body. The kid was dead. He looked up from his crouch to his son. “See? This is what it is. This is what they do …,” Jon snarled, fists balling in his rage as he slowly rose to stand over his son. He reached out and yanked the shovel out of the boy's grasp.
“I thought …,” Kevin gulped, fighting tears.
“Yeah, that's just it; you didn't. You got wrapped up in it. In the excitement. In the hurting. In the fun,” Jon snarled. “Does this look like fun to you?” he said, swinging his hand to indicate Gretchen, Vanessa, and Clarice. “Look at them!” he bellowed, forcing his sons to look at their sister. “Look at what your so-called heroes did to her! What they do to others!”
Kevin looked at his sister. He saw her battered face, her devastated look, her ripped and soiled clothing. He saw her tears as well as his mother's and he crumpled, face tearing up. “Oh god, sis …Mom …” his voice quavered as his own sobs tore at him.
His sister flinched away and shrieked for him to get away from her. He turned away in hurt and fresh pain.
As his daughters and wife cried, Jon wrung his hands enraged. Tears of the women folk always did it to him; it tore him up in helpless rage. He hated it, he hated the feelings it evoked and the desire to stop it, to end their pain. “It's always okay when it is someone else. When it is your own kin?” he said shaking violently in rage. His battered daughter looked up, saw his enraged face and then cried more. Vanessa reached out and grabbed her husband and held his arm to keep him from doing something stupid. He ran his callused fingers over her hand but didn't move for a long moment. Finally, he gave her a squeeze and broke the grip to turn to their sons.
“Come on. We've got work to do,” Jon said gruffly, laying a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. Kevin winced. He looked up to his father and then nodded. He ducked his head, expecting a whipping, but instead his father had him strip the body of weapons and gear and then bury the body in the manure pile. When Alvin and Ronald came to see what they were doing, they sent the boys off to feed and water the stock.