by Rob Buckman
“W…what do you mean?” An older lady asked.
“What it means is survival of the fittest. Soon all the weak, lazy and stupid people will be dead. The strong will fight over what’s left and get rid of anyone weaker than themselves as Darwin predicted. The moment civilization broke down, and all the normal controls vanished, the wolves attacked. Even now, bands of scavengers, looters and marauders are sweeping across the countryside killing and taking what they want. To them women are only good for one thing, and I’ll let your imagination fill in the blanks. Thank yourself lucky they haven’t found this place yet or you’d see firsthand how Mr. Darwin’s hypothesis works.” From their expressions, he knew what they were thinking, and like rats in a maze trying to find a way out. There wasn’t one, and eventually they’d come to the obvious conclusion.
“From now on I will treat you as I would any bunch of green recruits. Meaning I will not be polite, or politically correct. You don’t like the way I talk to you. Tough, because I personally don’t give a rat’s ass. You want to leave, go ahead, I won’t stop you or try to talk you out of it, but if you leave, don’t come back. You’re on your own and you go with two days’ worth of food and what you’re standing in.”
“No weapons?” Someone asked.
“We have none to spare. They wouldn't do you much good, as you don’t have a clue how, or when to use them.” Decker glanced at the pitiful few weapons on a nearby table. Two 12-gage shotguns, an old .30 carbine and two pistols.
“But… but what are we going to do… if we stay…” Someone asked. Here was the question, and he still thought he should take off on his own and try to get to the base at Norden.
“What I’m about to suggest will probably get you all killed, me included,” he paused a moment and took a deep breath, “I’m going to go North and try to make it to a base at ‘Norden’, near the ‘Truckee - Tahoe’ Airport. Those who want to go with me can, but understand this. If you go, you do what I say, when I say it. You get injured or can’t go on, I’ll leave you and not look back.”
“You’d leave us out there… on our own?” One startled woman exclaimed.
“Too right. You stop for any reason, I don’t care what. I’m not risking my life and the lives of the rest of you for someone who quits, or injured. I’ll strip you of any useful equipment and weapons and walk away.” The look on their faces said they didn’t believe him.
“As I said earlier, I will not save you. That you will have to do for yourselves. I will teach you how to survive and fight along the way, so either be prepared to hump your sorry asses over the Sierra Nevada Mountains or stay here and die, your choice.”
He could see from the look on many of their faces, they still didn’t believe him. The older ones did, but the younger ones didn’t, or couldn’t. To them there was always someone around to look after them. Their parents, their teachers, their boss, the police, firefighters, or the military, all standing between them, and the wolves. Modern society didn’t teach its children survival skills, or how to fend for yourself in the wilderness. They had their cell phones, the internet, and the mindless chatter of ‘Face book’ and other silly social mediums between them and the darkness. For the first time in their lives, there was no safety net, no place to hide, and no Mommy or Daddy to run home too. Eventually, they’d come to realized it was his way, or lay down and die.
"I want each of you to find paper and a pen and write out your last will and testament, and a letter to whoever, because as of this moment, consider yourselves dead."
"What?"
"What didn't you understand about dead? The end, finished, maggot meat."
"But… we're not…" Someone stuttered.
"Oh really? How long do you think you’ll survive? Weeks, months before the fucking alien’s or the marauders come knocking on the door. The scavengers don’t take prisoners; they kill every living being they don’t have a use for. Including the old, sick, lame and just plain ugly."
"Oh god!" Echoed around the room from more than one throat.
"Okay, knock off the crap. As I said, I’ll take as many of you who want to go with me when I leave." Decker watched the wave of expressions and emotions sweep across their faces, from hope to anger, despair to disbelief.
"But…" He held his hand up. "If you want to survive, stop feeling sorry for yourselves, and consider yourselves already dead. Anyone you knew is probably dead, and if they are alive, they probably think you’re dead. The only difference between you and them is you know you’re dead, and it's just a question of where your body stops moving, and accepts it." They stopped crying, their expression turning from sorrow to anger.
"I will train you as best I can to survive, and take you with me four hundred miles or more to a base I don't even know exist anymore." Decker continued walking between the women, looking them in the eyes.
"If you think you can't make it, leave, and don't waste our food. The rest of us will need it over the coming weeks and months."
"You'd… you'd kick us out if we don't go along with this?"
"Damn right. If you stay here, eventually the food will run out, and you’ll starve to death. If you go out and scavenge, you’ll probably be caught out in the open and killed by the aliens, or the human monsters out there. On the other hand, you can simply cut your own throats, and save the rest of us the heartache. If you opt for that way out, please do the rest of us the kindness by doing it somewhere else. The rest of us don't want to keep tripping over your rotting stinking corpse and have to cart it outside and dump it in a ditch." It was cold, and he meant it to be. These women had to wake up to their new reality.
Decker knew he was laying it on thick, but he didn't have a choice. Either they all woke up to the fact it was his way, where they'd at least have a very slim chance of surviving, or lying down and dying right here. How long he could keep them alive was another matter, but it was better than just sitting here on their asses and giving up.
"What… what do we have to do? We aren’t soldiers."
"Yes, as of now you are. The line between soldier, and civilian vanished the moment the fucking aliens dropped their shit on us. You either fight and die just like the rest of us poor fucking soldiers have been doing since before JC was a fucking carpenter, or crawl off and die somewhere!"
“Young man, I see no need for such profanity or taking the Lords name in vain.” An older woman spluttered in protest. Decker eyed her for a moment before turning his head and spitting on the floor. She was obviously of the creationist camp.
“Lady, I personally don’t give a shit if you see a need or not. In the last twenty years, I’ve broken most, if not all, of the Ten Commandments. Especially number six. ‘Thou shall not kill’, repeatedly, so God and I have an understanding. He doesn’t interfere in what I have to do, and I promised not to go to church or ask for his help or forgiveness.” The old woman looked daggers at him but said nothing.
The corner of Decker’s lip twitched in something resembling a smile, as what he’d said was true. Other than when he got married, he hadn’t been in a church in twenty years, not even the mandatory Sunday Church parade the British army insisted on. Any illusions he had about God and religion vanished after his first bloody firefight and losing his best friend. In any military unit, there was always a cross section of those who believed and those who didn’t. As far as Decker was concerned, he didn’t need a mythical super being to make his life complete, or rely on to save his ass. He’d seen too many good men, and women die who shouldn’t have because they did. He trusted his abilities and those of his teammates to save his ass rather than an unseen deity.
"But… but we don't know how to fight." June Landers protested, breaking the ensuing silence.
“Yes, you do, you just don't know it.” Decker looked around the group. “Contrary to popular belief soldiers aren’t grown. Governments all over the world since time immemorial have taken civilians and turned them into soldiers. Human beings are built to fight, men and women most times
love to fight and kill. It's who we are as human beings, and with a little luck something these asshole aliens will find out.”
"Really?"
"Yes, really. You might have trouble stabbing or shooting a fellow human being, but I doubt you'd have any problem blowing a fucking alien’s head off, would you?"
"Hell no Sergeant. If I could get my hands on one, I'd bite its frigging head off and piss down its neck." The tall well-built woman sharpening the K-bar he’d noticed earlier answered.
"Your name?"
"Grace, Sergeant. Grace Lowery, USMC."
"Sempra Fi Grace. As of now you’re Squadron Sergeant Major, and I need you to get me a full head count, by age, of everyone here." For a moment, Decker silently said thanks to Lady Luck for providing Grace Lowery. There was at least one person here who understood what he was talking about. “Fall in behind me.”
"Yes, sir!" Grace was grinning from ear to ear. "Shit! I only made it to Buck Sergeant before." She walked forward and took an at ease position behind Decker.
"For those of you who want to take the easy way out. Get the fuck out of here and go do it. If not, get your shit together, and go find paper and pen." As they broke up, June and Grace walked over.
"I have to hand it to you, Sergeant. You don't pull any punches."
"He can't afford to." Grace put in before he could answer. "We’re all up shit creek without a paddle in a leaky boat."
"Oh, I agree. What are your orders?"
"You both done with the last will and testament thing?" They nodded together.
"Yes. I said my goodbyes a week ago." June murmured.
"Me too." Grace added. “That Marine of mine got himself killed two years ago in the mid-east.”
“Sorry to hear. As of this now, you are my second in command June… or until I can find someone better to do the job. You have any problem following my orders?”
"No, sir." Grace straightened up, and almost saluted.
"Stuff the sir, I'm not an officer."
“As of now you are.” Grace replied. “You are the commanding officer of this pack of girls, females, women, or whatever you want to call us.” Decker smiled.
"Pack, huh. You know what my war handle is?"
"No."
"They call me Wolfman."
"Because you love telling the wolf story to the new recruits?" June asked with a wan smile.
"Yeah, I did." Decker answered, with a slight smile.
"So, this makes us your Wolf Pack then." Decker stroked the scar for a moment.
"Yeah, I guess so." Seeing Grace laugh. "What's so funny?" Seeing the smile on her tired face get broader.
"Then I guess that makes us your bitches and you’re the Alpha male."
“Sergeant Major! I didn’t mean…” Decker stuttered to a halt and had the grace to blush.
"You should see your expression Sarg… Sir."
"Get the fu…" Go!" He snapped, brushing them away. It wasn't something he'd thought about when she'd suggested they were his Pack, but it did fit in a perverse way.
It took several hours, and after a lot of muttering between themselves, one by one they came to the table and handed Decker a sheet of paper with their last will and testament on it. He took each one and placed them in a stack. A few came with letters and a few with tears, but those he accepted with solemn dignity and a soft thank you. He could see the situation was sinking in, and even now, several of the women had slipped away, never to be seen again. He wished them well, but knew it was only time before they died, either softly and gently or in a terrible way he couldn’t predict or prevent. Grace Lowery handed him the final tally, and it didn’t make him any happier. Out of the original 110 women here, only eighty-five remained to form into a working troop, ranging in ages from 16 to 75. Twenty-five had opted to leave and take their chances in the wilds. Decker shrugged wishing them the best of luck. Looking around at the crowd of chattering women, his first thought was herding cats would be a lot easier. Eighty-five was still a large number of people to turn into a fighting force all by himself, and he wondered about the attrition rate, doubting he’d have half by the time they reached ‘Norden’.
“It looks like you made new friends.”
“They’d be the first.” Looking around to where Grace pointed. “Oh them, no I’m just someone who feeds them.”
“Don’t think so, you’re the first man they’ve seen since their owner left.”
“Not very friendly at the moment.”
“You should tell them the wolf and the sheepdog story.” She chuckled. Decker eyed the two dogs and shook his head.
“Hope you two don’t give me as much trouble as this lot.” The male went ‘ruff!’ and shook himself.
As the emotionally charged day slowly drifted into evening, Decker investigated the offered shower facilities in the basement, finding the place empty. The storage tanks on the hill provided sun warmed water, so it wasn't as bad as he thought. Clean and shaved, he pulled on clean underwear, maybe the last he would see for a while. As he walked out of the bathroom, rubbing his hair dry, a small group of older women came up to him.
"Can we have a word?" The leader asked. Decker nodded politely, hastily pulling on his pants, wondering what this was about. The group comprised twenty women, all over sixty by the look of it.
"What can I do for you?"
"It's more a question of what we can do for you, Sergeant Decker."
"Oh?" The older woman smiled and gripped his upper arm.
"You look like a nice young man, and from what we…" she indicated the rest of the group, "… can see, you might save a few of them." Decker hadn't been called a nice young man by anyone for a very long time. The last one was his mother when he was ten years old.
“I hope so.”
"Good."
"So, what can I do for you?" The old woman sighed.
"First, ten of us are all over sixty. The others have medical conditions. Bad heart, high blood pressure, arthritis, cancer of one sort or another…"
"You're not going, are you?"
"No son, we are not going with you."
"But…" Decker wasn't sure what to say."
"We would only slow you down."
"You could keep up for a while…" The old woman shook her head.
"We wouldn't last a day and you know it. Then you'd have to leave us." She sighed again. "You don't want the added burden of having to leave us out there; let alone the heartbreak the rest would feel at having to abandon us. No, we think it's best we leave now."
"Where will you go?"
"Alice Munday has a place up in the hills by a small lake, not far from here."
"It’s just a vacation cabin my husband and I built a few years ago." Alice put in.
"We'll take what food supplies we'll need, not much, and our medicines and take off after the sun goes down."
"You think you can make it before dawn?"
"No, but we can camp during the day and take off again at dusk. If we’re careful, we can be there by late the day after tomorrow." Decker didn't insult them by begging them to stay.
It was the right choice to make, and one he'd been avoiding since he saw them. He looked over the women and knew they were a way too old to make such a journey, but he wasn't about to tell any of them they couldn't go. Reluctantly, he nodded his acceptance. The old woman leaned forward and kissed him on his freshly shaved cheek.
“You take care of them son.” She looked around at the others. “From what we’ve seen, we know they’re in good hands.”
"I hope you are right."
"We know they only have a slim chance to survive, but it’s a chance they wouldn’t have if you hadn’t arrived. Don't slack off on them, and always tell them the truth, no matter how hard it is." She squeezed his arm and pulled a small package out of her coat pocket.
"The second thing is this. And the reason you and your team came here." She held out a small package, pressing it into his hand.
"Take this. It's some
thing my husband was working on."
"Oh… okay." Decker took the package, not sure what to say, as the old woman patted the back of his hand in a motherly way.
"For many years, he was an electro-mechanical engineer working at the Lockheed ‘Skunk works’, but he was also an inventor in his spare time. When he retired, he continued working on 'his little project' as he called it. If he’s right, then this little package could give our military an edge on the aliens they don't expect." It was cryptic to say the least.
Decker tucked the package away in his cargo pocket, as one by one they came up to him and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. To Decker it felt as if someone had reached into his chest and squeezed his heart. His eyes stung as they said their last goodbye to him in private, and walked away until only their spokesperson remained.
“Before you go. I was thinking. I have to go collect my teams gear up at the crash site. Why don’t you hang on here and I’ll help you get to this place of yours. I can take off after to the crash site.” The old woman gave him a smile and nodded.
“Thank you.” Decker didn't bother trying to dissuade them, knowing it was their choice to make. It left him with a core group of sixty-five reasonably fit and healthy women, but it hurt having to abandon them to their fate. All he could do, was wish them well and hope they could live out their lives in peace.
"Okay, everybody, listen up. We need to get this circus organized, so I'm going to do it the way we do it over on the other side of the pond. That’s the Atlantic for all you that don't know. Everyone except June Landers and Grace Lowery lined up. “Tallest on my left, shortest on my right. Move.” Sixty-five chattering women milled about, minus the older women who stayed out of the way by agreement.
Decker watched as they got themselves sorted out, shaking his head, having seen it before a hundred times. Some people just had a higher opinion of themselves, pushing and shoving when they thought they were taller than someone else. It wasn't anywhere near a straight line, as they didn't have enough room. It just snaked around the perimeter of the open space.