Farmer's Creed

by Christopher Woods

  “You can bet he won’t be happy about it, though.”

  “I might have to stop calling him Fatty if I keep gaining weight.”

  Dagger snorted.

  “Don’t you sass me, Horse.”

  Pop chuckled.

  Dagger snorted again and his ears waggled back and forth.

  “I swear that horse is smarter than a lot of people,” Pop said.

  “I know he’s smarter than some of them.”

  “Indubitably.”

  “That’s one of those two-dollar words, Pop. You been waiting a while to get a chance to use it?”

  He grinned. “Maybe a little while.”

  “Was it all you thought it would be?”

  “No,” he said. “I wasted it on a dumbass. Go scout the left flank.”

  I laughed as I turned Dagger to the left and nudged his ribs. In truth, I was glad to get further away from the loud wagons. Noises seemed to bother me more lately. I was worried about the nanites. What were they doing to me? I’d been prepared to die when we went after Lassiter. I certainly didn’t expect to make it after the multiple shots I’d taken.

  I’d felt them all, but I’d kept going until I reached the penthouse and put a bullet in Lassiter and his father. Then I was ready to go. Hell of a thing to wake up at Doc’s. Pop must have been in a hell of a state, fit to hang all of them from the lamp posts. I understood it; he thought he’d lost both a son and a daughter.

  The hollow feeling hit me again as I thought of her. I could see Pop’s need to save what civilization he could, but I just wanted to… I guess that didn’t really matter. I couldn’t imagine the feeling getting any better, but most folks say it eases with time.

  My thoughts were interrupted by a flash of movement to my left. Someone had darted behind a burnt house.

  “If you’re friendly, you better step out.” I stopped Dagger in the street. “If not, I can’t leave you to cause trouble at our rear.”

  “Sweet Jesus in fluffy bunny slippers,” I heard a woman say in a low tone. “That’s one of the guys who walked into Lassiter.”

  “Shit,” a man’s voice returned just as quietly.

  I shouldn’t have been able to hear them. “Pop says I shouldn’t blame all the city dwellers for what happened last month. I’m trying. But if you stay behind that wall, I’m going to have to assume you’re unfriendly.”

  “We’re friendly,” the man answered and stepped out from behind the shelter. He was about six feet tall and kept his hand well away from the rifle slung across his shoulder. “We’re not looking for trouble.”

  He was followed by a woman who was a foot shorter. She held both hands in view and well away from the pistol holstered on the chest of the tactical vest she wore.

  “No trouble here,” she said. “We’re trying to get the hell out of the city. It’s getting worse since Lassiter was killed. Some others moved into the scraper, and they’re causing trouble for several zones.”

  “Where were you planning to go?”

  “We heard there were some decent folks out to the west,” the man said. “Hoped to get there and see if we can join them. Figured they could use some paramedics.”

  “They certainly could,” I said. “I’m Zee Pratt. My father is the one heading up the Farmers. He’s in that convoy of wagons.”

  “The Farmers,” the woman said. “That’s the folks we were looking for. I didn’t realize you were the same group who killed Lassiter.”

  “Ugly business, that.” The man looked worried.

  “Pop was leaving a message. Lassiter took some of our folks. We took them back. My wife was killed in the crossfire.”

  “Are you coming back to do more?”

  “Pop has a plan to help the city. I’m still debating if it’s worth saving.”

  He looked at me for a moment. “I’m Phil Clayton, and this is my wife, Angie. We’re looking for a better place. Is there room for us out west?”

  “Yep. We can use some more folks with medical experience.” I turned Dagger away from them but kept them in my sight. “Come with me, and we’ll see what Pop says. If you choose not to come with us, I don’t see any reason to hold you up.”

  They stepped out where I could keep an eye on them as we walked back the way I’d come.

  “You’ve got a convoy of wagons?” Angie asked.

  “Yep. Heading into the city.”

  “Why? What are you carrying?”

  “Food.”

  “Into the city?” she asked with widened eyes. “Every one of them will attack you.”

  “They’ll only do it once,” I said.

  We topped a little rise, and they could see the wagons.

  “Holy mother of pearl,” Angie said. “There’s got to be a couple hundred riders.”

  “Those are military weapons,” Phil said.

  “They are.”

  “Is that a fifty mounted on the top of that wagon?” Angie asked.

  “It is.”

  “Jesus, isn’t that a little much?”

  “Sometimes too much is just enough in this Fallen World.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 6

  “Car,” Pop said.

  “Still running,” I said. “Reckon it’s a trap?”

  The car was off the side of the road leading into the city.

  “Could be,” Pop answered.

  I slid off Dagger and walked toward the running car. It had a Florida license plate. Although most of the state and federal government had been absorbed by the corporations before the Fall, that was one of the things that had remained with the States.

  “I guess no one wanted the DMV,” I muttered as I neared the car with the Colt in my right hand.

  The driver was slumped over the wheel. He was wearing a uniform that looked pretty close to Obsidian wear, but there were no identifiers. It was covered in blood, and from the way he looked, most of it was his.

  “Wounded!” I barked. “Driver’s in pretty rough shape!”

  Angie and Phil were moving immediately.

  “Hold a second.”

  I reached in and pulled the pistol from his holster. There was a knife as well, and I took it.

  “Okay,” I said. “Look him over.”

  “How bad is he?” Pop asked as he got closer.

  “He’s been shot a couple times, and that one looks like a cut.”

  “There’s half a tank of gas in the car,” Pop said as he glanced at the gauge. “I think you should drive him to Doc’s if he’s in good enough shape to make it.”

  “I need to be with you if we have problems.”

  “I have two hundred Farmer’s Guard and Jimmy.”

  Angie had opened the door to pull the guy out of the car. “Jeez, this guy’s heavy.”

  “Back up!” I ordered.

  “But…”

  “Step back,” I repeated. “Jimmy!”

  He was there in a flash.

  “Damn, that guy’s fast.”

  “You have no idea.” I turned back to the stranger as Jimmy pulled him from the car.

  “Agent,” Jimmy said in a steady voice.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  “Then Jimmy’ll drive him in to Doc, and I want the two Medics to go with him.”

  Jimmy nodded, and both of the Paramedics started working on the Agent.

  It only took a few moments to bind what they could, and I threw them a roll of duct tape from my saddle bag.

  “Duct tape,” Phil muttered. “I pity this world when we run out of it.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “He’s as good as we can get him without supplies,” Angie said. “He should be dead.”

  “He’s an Agent.” I motioned for Jimmy. “Get him into the back seat.”

  I pointed at Angie. “Tell Jimmy what to do to keep him alive, but do it from the front seat. Phil, drive. Jimmy will tell you how to get there. We should be back in a couple weeks.”

  We watched as the car backed onto the road and spu
n gravel as Phil swung it toward the west.

  “We could use another Agent,” I said. “Jimmy’s a one-man army. It would be nice to have a second. Hopefully he wakes up friendly. It would suck to get back and have to kill him.”

  “He wakes up violent, and Jimmy will take care of it,” Pop said. “I got no doubt he can handle an injured Agent.”

  “I figure he can handle it.” I looked back at the car as it moved into the distance. “With the wounds he’s carrying, I doubt he’ll be doing much of anything until we get back. He’s not what’s worrying me.”

  “I know,” he said. “We’ve seen what an Agent can do. What the hell did he run into?”

  “I don’t know what it took to do that to an Agent.” I shook my head. “Everybody needs to be on alert.”

  “I’ll run down the right side and let them know what’s happening. I’ll come back up the left. You stay on point and keep your eyes peeled.”

  “No doubt.”

  I watched Pop make his way down the side of the column and turned back toward the city. Something had left that Agent in the shape he was in. I’d seen Jimmy go through forty or fifty men without a single injury. What the hell had he run into?

  We continued onward to see a familiar view. About a month ago we’d ridden that same road in pursuit of Lassiter. Pop had spent a little bit of time in the zone we’d entered last month, and we hadn’t expected a lot of trouble from them.

  Personally, I didn’t care if they gave us trouble. Two hundred automatic rifles and a belt-fed fifty should take care of anything they threw at us, and I doubted I’d ever see the place as anything more than a den of murderers. The first men who attacked us as we rode into town were from this zone. They weren’t innocent by any measure.

  I’d seen decent people come from the city. The Claytons seemed to be good people. After running into them, I’d realized Pop was right. There were some left inside that hell hole. They needed someone to stand for them. Pop was hoping to feed that beast and, just maybe, get some of those decent folks out of the city and onto the Farms. We needed more people.

  I hoped we could recruit the Agent we’d found, if he survived.

  “Agents are some tough bastards,” I muttered.

  Dagger snorted.

  “Yeah, he was in pretty rough shape.”

  I kept my eyes on the buildings ahead of us. I could see movement on the ground as people ran in different directions.

  “Might be in for a fight,” I said.

  The horse snorted again.

  “I guess you do answer every time,” I muttered. “I, for one, am perfectly willing to give them a fight if that’s what they’re after.”

  Dagger tossed his head. I’d swear the horse understood me. Grinning, I rode forward. The bag of plastic pieces hanging behind my saddle rustled.

  “Another of Pop’s whacked out plans,” I muttered.

  Waving to the front riders, we rode into the city. Any thought of a fight was gone at the sight of the automatic weapons we carried. I raised my hand to halt the wagon train in front of the tallest building. I remembered killing a few men and women in this very street.

  “Keep your eyes sharp, Kalet! Any sign of violence, end it!”

  “Yes, Sir!”

  David Kalet was the new caravan master. He’d been in logistics before the Fall, so it seemed fitting that he’d be running the logistics of Pop’s whacked out plan. If anyone could succeed in the position, it would be him.

  “I’m going to go inside.”

  “Is that a wise choice?” Grady asked.

  “Not really,” Pop said as he rode up. “He’ll probably get shot again as he shoots them all. But I guess we need to go in.”

  “You need to stay out here, Pop,” I said. “Can’t afford to lose you. The Farms fall apart without you.”

  He grunted.

  “You know he’s right,” Grady said.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Go ahead.”

  I started to walk toward the door to the building when a familiar man stepped out.

  “You’re the Farmers,” he said. “I saw what you did last month. Are you here to kill us?”

  I sighed. “No. We’re here to feed you.”

  His breath caught. “Are you serious?”

  “Dead serious,” I said. “Here’s how things are going to go. Every person in this zone will receive thirty of these.”

  I held a plastic chip out to the man. He took it and looked at it in confusion.

  “Each of these will be good for one MRE. Kalet!”

  David tossed me a package.

  The man’s eyes widened as he saw what I caught.

  “Now, we’ll be passing these out to each person in the zone.” I held up a chip. “Then each of you can buy one of these with each chip.”

  I held up the MRE.

  “It’s very simple. There’ll be no doubles. There’ll be no more than thirty given to any person. If someone comes to me with sixty, I’ll assume they robbed someone else, and I’ll shoot them.”

  His eyes widened again.

  “Pop seems to think there’s something here worth saving. We’ll see. Personally, I’d rather burn the place down. You saw what five of us did in the street on our way to Lassiter. There are a hundred and fifty of us today. I think you’ll want to keep the discourse civil.”

  Civil discourse was a rare thing in this Fallen World.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 7

  “That went a lot smoother than I expected,” Pop said. “I thought you might shoot someone.”

  “They saw what we did and wanted no part of that.” I pointed ahead. “The next one saw us as well, but the one after that? We’ll have to shoot someone.”

  “Got it all planned out, do you?” he returned.

  “Just my read on the situation, Pop.”

  “Sadly, it’s probably not too far off,” he said.

  “Just keep your guns ready, and your eyes peeled,” I said to the riders following us as we rode into the next zone.

  I nudged Dagger forward to take the lead and rode forward toward the scraper. I saw figures ducking into the side streets as our caravan rode into view. My palms itched to draw my .45s, but I resisted the urge.

  Another familiar form exited the scraper with his hands held out where we could see them.

  “I remember you,” he said. “We don’t want any trouble.”

  “If you don’t start any trouble, there won’t be any,” I returned. “We’re here to make an offer.”

  “I’m listening,” he said, looking at the fifty cal on the top of the third box wagon.

  I went through the same speech I’d given the first warlord.

  “I’m Faulkner, warlord of this zone. I have to wonder what’s in this for you?”

  “My father has a crazy plan to try to do what we can to rebuild our civilization from this.” I motioned around us. “I, personally, would rather set the place on fire. I hate the term warlord, and I hate the society that breeds that kind of person. But he thinks there’s something worth saving here.”

  “You hate me, but you’ll feed me?”

  “I will, because my wife used to tell me everyone deserves a chance. This is your chance. I’m not sure you’re worth saving, but prove me wrong, and everyone gets a month worth of MREs if they eat one per day. Use these to supplement your sources of food, and everyone gets at least a meal per day.”

  “I’m called warlord because somebody inside this city started using the term. My people asked me to take charge, since I was the most capable to protect them. I had a group of hard asses in my employ when this all went down. We’ve managed to hold our zone with the weapons we’ve made or found right here. If it makes you feel any better, I hate the term, and I despise the job.”

  He shook his head. “But there’s no one else to do it, so here I am. I try to keep my people out of the affairs of the zone you went into last month. Before, Lassiter kept it somewhat civil. We just stayed out of his way. This ot
her bunch isn’t going to be easy to sell your plan to.”

  “That’s what the fifty is for.” I grinned.

  “He’s got a lot of men,” Faulkner said.

  “I have a lot of bullets.”

  He nodded with a slight crook to his mouth. “I’ll get my people in gear, and we’ll get this done.”

  He turned to walk back toward his scraper, then stopped and looked back. “Is this a one-time thing? Or are you planning to keep doing it?”

  “To be honest, I think Pop has a plan to do it on a regular basis. He’ll be coming in to talk to you and some of your folks. There’s something in this for us. He hopes to get a few recruits to come back to the farms with us.”

  “I see.”

  I shrugged. “You can talk to Pop about that. I’m just the guy who stands out front and gives the introduction speech.”

  “A bit more than that,” he said. “I remember what the street looked like after they took some of your people. I remember what you left in Lassiter’s zone. I’m thinking you’re out front so you can shoot who needs shootin’.”

  “Hmph.”

  He was chuckling as he turned back toward the scraper to set his people up for the trade.

  “I reckon you don’t get to shoot anyone after all,” Pop said as he walked up behind me.

  “Day’s still young, Pop,” I said and turned back toward the wagons.

  I was pretty sure we were in good shape for this zone. Faulkner struck me as a no-nonsense sort of guy. His people looked hungry, but they didn’t look like they were starving. He didn’t look any better than they did, so I figured he shared with his people. A good sign and possible proof that Pop might have been right. Maybe there was something worth saving.

  Reaching the wagons, I nodded to Kalet. “Go ahead. They’re mostly harmless.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “We brought a fifty cal and everything.” I laughed. “I know Grady wants to use it.”

  I waved to Grady in the gunner’s cage.

  He shrugged and waited patiently.

  “Probably have to use it in the next one!” I yelled to him.

  “That’s what you said last time!” he yelled back.