Farmer's Creed

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by Christopher Woods

“No doubt,” he said. “How much fuel have we got?”

  “Enough to run the farm equipment for a couple of years if we keep using the trucks for delivery to the Waterfront and the Depot. I plan to reestablish contact with Collins as soon as possible. We have a Port, so we might get ships sent from the Gulf. One tanker ship would carry us for a long time. We have the trucks, so we might run down I-81, too. We can expand the crops now that we have some fuel, and possibly send truckloads south to do some trading.”

  “Don’t forget Renardi,” he said. “He has some fuel connections, too.”

  “Not forgetting him,” I said. “You sent him on his way before I got to meet him, but I met Collins. What do you know about Renardi?”

  “Actually, when I think about it, not much. He said he was from New Orleans, but he didn’t sound like it. Of course the imprint could have been anyone.”

  “Right now I prefer to deal with Collins,” I said. “After I meet Renardi, that may change.”

  “I agree,” Pop said. “We don’t know enough about him yet. I’d say we’ll get to know the guy a bit when we show up with a truck load or two of beans.”

  “I’d say so.”

  “Who do you want to tap for that?”

  “Maybe Ray,” I said. “Possibly Phil and Angie with him. We’ll have to send some support vehicles too. The way Collins was talking, there’re a bunch of little fiefdoms all along the way.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me at all,” he said. “Just look at the way the city ended up. I could see the country doing that on a larger scale. We’re going to have to start moving out in all directions to see what’s left as soon as the immediate threat of this place is handled. What we’ve done so far is a good start, but it’s balanced on a tightrope.”

  “I think that might change pretty soon,” I said.

  “He’s ready to start trials?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. Where does he want to start?”

  “We’re going to try the Depot first.”

  “Then we need to jump straight to the Circus,” he said, “in order to do what you want, they have to be first.”

  “I know,” I said. “It galls me to do it that way, but it needs to be done. Then we can radiate outward from there as Dynamo’s guys get things connected.”

  We exited the truck as three semis pulled into the parking lot.

  “I’d prefer to start here, but this is almost the furthest point from the plant we have,” he said. “We’ll get here soon enough. At least the fuel will keep the gennies going.”

  We turned to see people coming from the Sugarhouse.

  Lee’s familiar form was walking at the front of the group talking to Sam Hart, whom I’d left in charge of her security.

  Pop stepped forward to greet them.

  “Mister Pratt,” she said as she took his outstretched hand. “I’ve heard a great deal about you. It is good to finally meet you.”

  “Ma’am,” he said. “I’ve heard good things. My boy says you’re good people, and I trust that.”

  “Please come inside,” she said with a wide smile. “I have something you might want to see.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s a surprise,” she said.

  “Hmph,” I grunted.

  Pop laughed, and we followed Lee back into the Sugarhouse.

  It looked a lot different than it had before.

  “Looks a lot nicer,” I said.

  “You wouldn’t believe what it took to clean this place up after your sons were through,” she said to Pop.

  “They never were worth much at cleaning up after themselves,” he said.

  “That I believe,” she said with a grin. She glanced at me and smiled again.

  We followed her toward the back of the Casino where Galloway had kept the slaves he’d sell. Most of the cages were gone, but there were still two, and they were occupied.

  “I seem to remember you wanted to greet the pirates who were shipping genos to Galloway. They came in a little early. I figured you’d want to talk to them.”

  I looked into the cage at the six people. “Oh, I’d really like to talk to them.”

  “These are the guys who brought the girls from the island?” Pop asked.

  I could see a tick at the edge of his right eye.

  He’d had that same look when he came back from Grady and Deli’s house, where he’d interviewed the girls.

  I placed a hand on his shoulder. “In good time, Pop.”

  He shook his head as if to clear it. “That may be the first time you’ve been the one cautioning me against something rash. I’d love to hang them from a streetlight.”

  “I can see where you get that charming personality, Zee,” Lee said. “There’s more, though. These were the surviving crew. The cargo’s in the back. Some of them are being treated by Doc Riley. A lot of them are just suffering from malnutrition.”

  “How recent was this?”

  “You missed it by a day and a half,” she said. “There was a little bloodshed, but we managed to capture half the crew.”

  She pointed back over her shoulder with a thumb. “Those six.”

  I followed her and Pop out the back, where there were close to forty people lying on cots or sitting on cots eating from the MREs they’d been given. I could see at least eight obvious Genos in the group, all of them females much like the girls who’d come in with Bogs. They looked scared as they saw us enter. It wasn’t just the girls; most of them looked scared. I looked over at Pop to see his right eye twitching again.

  “Let’s try to keep women around them for a little while,” I said.

  “Already in the works,” Lee answered. “I’ve sent for all the female Guardsmen we have stationed here to do shifts with the refugees. When we can get them in shape, we can talk about getting them out of the city.”

  “Thank you, Lee,” I said.

  Pop grinned as she placed her hand on my arm and smiled.

  “Thank you for trusting me,” she said. “I know it was hard to place your faith in someone from this wretched place.”

  She motioned toward the door back into the casino. “Perhaps we can let the doctor work.”

  I nodded and followed her through the door we’d come out of. Pop was right behind me.

  “I was hesitant about approving for you to go to the island, son,” he said, looking at the caged pirates, “but there are just some things that need doing in this Fallen World.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 55

  The old FBI building had become a familiar sight. Once was more than I wanted to visit this place. Martin was waiting for me in the street, with Funboy and a group of the psycho imprinted clowns.

  “Hello again, Pratt,” Martin said. “Today’s terms are—”

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “I’m going to need to speak to her.”

  “I’m not going to let you anywh—”

  His radio beeped, and he sighed. Pulling the radio from his waist, he looked at the message.

  “Follow me,” he said with a frown. “Funboy, keep the idiots from causing any trouble.”

  “Hard to protect someone like that,” I said. “I worked some protection details.”

  We walked down the street toward the Mint. “I’m never sure what to expect from you, Pratt. You never get anything but grief when you deal with her.”

  “She’ll be interested in what I have to say today, Martin.”

  He clicked his radio off. “Don’t ever agree to what she offered last time. She wants to use the augmented as her twisted toys. If you’re thinking of reconsidering, just don’t.”

  He pulled the side of his colorful shirt up and I saw multiple scars along his ribs. Then he let the shirt drop back down and turned the radio back on.

  After what I’d seen of the men and women she’d used as toys among the prisoners, I could fully accept that she’d get even more aggressive with someone who could heal at the rate an Agent could. These Agents wouldn’t have any c
hoice but to take it.

  I shook my head. I felt sorry for the guy. Hell, I felt sorry for all of them. The people they’d captured and imprinted with that psycho were innocents. The Agents were far from innocent, but what choice did they have? They were programmed to obey.

  Three other Agents joined us as we entered the Mint. It was normal procedure. There was no way they were letting me in the same room with the Heads alone. There’d be more already in the room.

  After climbing the stairs, we entered the familiar throne room, where I examined the room before turning to the Heads. Lasko sat in his chair like a fat drooling toad, Reynard fanned himself with an oriental hand fan, and Rosalyn lounged on her throne with a smile on her face. The smile didn’t reach her dead eyes.

  “I’m assuming you’ve reconsidered my offer, Zebadiah,” she said, while twirling her hair with her right pointer finger. “That’s too bad, you see. I had to make other arrangements. Slammer was so much fun, I think I’ll keep him for a while.”

  “To be honest, I’m not here because I reconsidered. I’m here to give you the terms of our future business together. If you remember, I offered to give each augmented person a double ration. This will remain the same. I’ll also give you and your, well, whatever they are, a double ration. All who wish to leave with us will relinquish their thirty script to you to spend as you see fit.”

  Lasko laughed, and Reynard was trying to contain his own laughter. Rosalyn cocked her head to the side with a thoughtful look on her face.

  “Are you insane, you…shitheel?!” Lasko yelled. “How many times do we have to tell you? You’re not in charge. You’ll give us—”

  “Lasko,” Rosalyn said. “Shut up.”

  Then she turned to me. “You seem very sure of yourself, Zebadiah. If you have nothing further to negotiate, you know our answer.”

  “I have one more thing,” I said and raised my left pointer finger. I pulled the radio on my side from my belt and clicked the button twice.

  “What?” Lasko asked with a sneer.

  I shook the finger. “Just wait for it.”

  A full minute passed before I heard two clicks from the radio.

  “Now,” I said and lowered my hand.

  Lights flickered in the room, and there was a vibration that hadn’t been felt in the Mint in several years. The air moved, and Rosalyn’s head dropped a bit.

  “You have a power plant?” Lasko asked. Then the familiar sneer replaced the look of surprise. “What’s to stop us from taking it from you? We’ll take anything we want fro—”

  Rosalyn shook her head. “Lasko, shut up.”

  He looked at her with pure hatred. “This shitheel cannot dictate to us! Anything he has, we can take!”

  She turned back to me. “Tell him.”

  “Can you run the power grid, Lasko? Reynard?”

  “No, but—”

  Rosalyn pointed at me. “He can.”

  Lasko shut his mouth, but if looks could kill, I’d be dead many times over.

  I clicked the radio twice more and the lights went out. The air conditioners stopped running, and Rosalyn sighed.

  She stood up and crossed the room to stand about a foot away. Her hand reached up to trace the scar on my cheek.

  “So much more than a pretty face,” she said. Her fingers slid along the scar. “Well played, Farmer. Well played.”

  She turned back to her seat. “Do turn it back on. Your terms are satisfactory…for now.”

  I clicked the radio again, and the power returned. Rosalyn’s head laid back on the head rest as the air began to flow again.

  I followed Martin out the door and down the stairs. As we reached the street, I stepped up beside him and glanced in his direction. There was a real smile under the fake one painted on the man’s face.

  I was certain one day we’d be on opposite sides of a conflict, but today was not that day. Today we would trade goods, and I’d leave the zone without having been extorted. It was a limited victory, but it was a victory, and I’ll take every one of those I can get in this Fallen World.

  * * * * *

  Epilogue

  Lee’s arm slid around my waist as we looked down from the top of the Waterfront Square tower. It felt natural for her arm to be there. My arm settled on her shoulders. Pop was right, I needed to be something other than a killer, and time spent with Lee was time I enjoyed.

  “That’s the ship,” she said. “Not huge as far as cargo ships go, but it should be big enough to do what you need.”

  “What sort of weapons do they have on it?”

  “A fifty-caliber machine gun on the front, and two more at the rear. Nothing bigger than that.”

  “Three fifties?” I mused. “That’s good.”

  “I thought you’d like that,” she said.

  “I do like it. We need to provision the ship and get some ammo out here from the Bunker. Then we’ll see about crewing the damn thing. I don’t know jack about ships.”

  “Neither do I,” she said. “Your brother seems to know his way around one, though.”

  “He knows all sorts of stuff,” I said, “except how to keep his trap shut.”

  She laughed. “I just asked him if you talked about me.”

  “And of course he blabbed every little thing he heard.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  I sighed.

  “And of course you and your father have spoken at length…”

  I chuckled. “Didn’t even know he was there.”

  She laughed softly and pointed to the south.

  “The first caravan crossing the river,” she said. “I’m surprised you let Kalet take the first run.”

  “Pop said I need to delegate more,” I said. “Plus, I’m kind of enjoying being right here.”

  “Do you think it will ever be safe enough to bring your daughter?”

  “I hope so. But this is no place for a two-year-old.”

  “I won’t even argue with that, although I’d love to meet her.”

  “You should come out to the Farms. You can see firsthand who you’ve allied yourself with.”

  “I plan to,” she said and squeezed with the arm around my waist. “At the soonest opportunity, I plan to.”

  The last wagon moved into the city on the other side of the bridge. I groaned as I heard the sounds of gunfire.

  She squeezed my waist again and pulled her arm back. “Go do what you do best. Take care of your people. We’ll have time when you get back.”

  I bent my head down and kissed her, then I jumped off the ledge to drop twenty feet and caught a rail. Dropping again and again, I was on the ground in moments. I ran around the front of the high-rise apartments and pulled Dagger’s reins from the fence where I’d tied him.

  Leaping to his back, we thundered down the street toward the bridge. I looked behind me to see the lone figure on the top of the building. No one could ever replace Neave in my heart, but like Pop said, a person can still be happy, even in this Fallen World.

  # # # # #

  About Christopher Woods

  Christopher Woods, writer of fiction, teller of tales, and professional liar, was born in 1970 and has spent most of his life with a book in hand. He is known for his popular Soulguard series as well as creating the shared universe in The Fallen World series. He has also written several short stories and the novel, “Legend” in the Four Horsemen Universe. With books ranging from fantasy to post-apocalyptic science fiction and military science fiction, there should be something for everyone. He lives in Woodbury, TN with his wife, Wendy. As a former carpenter of 25 years, he spends his time between various building projects and writing new books. To contact him go to https://theprofessionalliar.com and send him a message or find him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/chris.woods.37.

  * * * * *

  Author's Note

  Farmer's Creed was a fun book to write and I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. The Fallen World is a fun world to write in. Fans are w
hat makes this job one of the best jobs a person could have and I thank you for being there.

  If you have any interest in doing a little more for an author, the Dragon Awards are a good way to do it. It's a fan based award so it's one of the best out there. If you are a fan and have an email address, you can nominate and vote for the best books of the year. Farmer's Creed is eligible for a nomination in the horror category, or post-apocalyptic if they bring that one back. If you are interested, I would love to have your nominations. Even if you don't vote for it, you should vote for something. There are a lot of great books out there. Go to www.dragoncon.org/awards and sign up to vote.

  If you want to do something a little less involved, reviews are always welcome. Now I will get rolling with the next book and see if I can get you some more to read. Thank you everyone!

  * * * * *

  Connect with Christopher Woods Online

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ChristopherWoodsSoulguard

  Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B00PEAG6WM

  Website: https://theprofessionalliar.com/

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  join the mailing list, and discover other titles at:

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  The following is an

  Excerpt from Book One of The Devil’s Gunman:

  The Devil’s Gunman

  ___________________

  Philip S. Bolger

 

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