The day after: An apocalyptic morning

by Jessy Cruise

  "What I suggest, I do not suggest lightly. But it is my belief that the best course of action for this town is to exile Jessica Blakely permanently from our borders and to send those that stood beside her to the last with her. I would suggest that we give them ample food, medicine, even weapons with which to protect themselves. My wish is not to send them out unprotected and unfed to die. But they must go and they must go immediately; tomorrow morning at the break of day. It is the only way we will be safe from the tyranny that she represents."

  And so it was decided. The vote was made and the next morning, twenty minutes after sunrise, Jessica and four of her followers were led out through the maze of sandbags on the east side of town. They were given one pistol apiece and two hundred rounds of ammunition between them. They were given backpacks full of canned food - enough to last them nearly three weeks. And they were told to leave and never come back.

  "God help you if I live through this," Jessica told Madeline as they parted ways.

  "I'll take my chances," Madeline, holding her M-16 in her hands, replied. "Now go. The guards have orders to shoot you if you step inside of our borders again."

  "That's nothing I haven't heard before," she replied with an arrogant smirk. She turned on her heels and began to walk down the interstate, heading east. Her four companions, all of them looking dejected and scared, trailed after her. They disappeared over the rise and out of the view of the perimeter guards a few minutes later. The recon positions that Madeline had set up to watch for the return of the men picked them up a few minutes after that. They reported that the five of them had left the interstate at the highway 49 junction and headed north.

  It was two days later that those same recon positions - which were located on the top of a small rise two miles down the interstate, hidden in thick vegetation - spotted movement on the freeway lanes a half a mile to the east of them. At first they could hardly credit what they were seeing, could not believe that this could possibly be the opposing force that they had been waiting and training so long to counter.

  "Those aren't the men from this town," said Annette Miller, one of Madeline's recently reinstated guards. "Look at them."

  And indeed the group they were watching did look rather disheveled. To the last man they were limping along, not in any sort of military formation, all of them filthy and heavily bearded. Several of them were being helped along by their companions. Two others were being carried on litters.

  "No, that is them," said Caroline Mickhews, her partner for the shift. She was looking through a pair of high-powered binoculars and the features of the front man were clear enough to her despite the beard. "That's Stinson. I know that face. It's him. And there's Perkins, and Lamkins." She moved to other faces, calling out names as she recognized them. "That's them," she declared.

  Annette took a look through her own binoculars, seeing that Caroline was correct. These were the town men. "Where are the rest of them?" She asked, puzzled. "Is this just the lead elements? Are the rest hanging back?"

  "I don't know," Caroline said nervously. "Do you think maybe they know what happened? About the revolution? Maybe this is some sort of diversion."

  "Something really strange is going on here," Annette said. She picked up the radio. "Let's report in." The radio was connected by wire to an external antenna that was hidden in the trees above them. It was tuned to channel 38 on the citizens band - a channel that Madeline did not think that the militia would be routinely monitoring. "Recon 1 to base, recon 1 to base," she said into it. "Signal zero. I repeat: signal zero."

  Signal zero was the code word that the men had been spotted. By speaking it, Annette had set into motion a pre-planned and pre-practiced deployment of every woman in town that was capable of carrying a gun and for which a gun was available. She knew that within ten minutes of her saying the words, the bunkers and positions all along the east side of town and especially along the entrance maze, would be staffed and ready to fight.

  "This is base," Madeline's voice said, speaking calmly. "Confirming signal zero?"

  "Affirm," Annette said. "Maddie, I know we're supposed to speak in code only, but there isn't a code for what I'm seeing out here. I think we'd better talk in the clear for a moment."

  "Negative, recon 1," Madeline replied. "There's a chance they're monitoring. Do the best you can with the code words and report immediately."

  "Maddie," Annette insisted. "I don't think they're listening. There are only..." she looked over at Caroline, who had been counting them.

  "Thirty-three," Caroline said. "Not including the two on litters."

  "There are only thirty-three of them," she finished. "And they look like... like they've been through some shit."

  "Confirming thirty-three of them?" Madeline asked. "Three three?"

  "That's affirmative," she said. "We have only thirty-three of them in view at this time and two in litters. They have no rifles on them."

  There was a long pause as she considered this information. "Keep a watch on them," she finally said. "Initiate no contact or communication with them. The rest have to be out there somewhere. Let me know the instant you see any sign of them."

  "I copy," Annette told her. "Continuing to watch."

  Madeline was confused. As all of her squad and platoon commanders checked in, reporting that their positions were manned and ready, she tried to sort through the facts in her head and come to some sort of conclusion. Why were only thirty-three men and a few wounded approaching the town? What had happened to the rest of them? Surely the Garden Hill forces hadn't defeated the Auburn militia, had they? And if they had, there was no way they could have killed 365 people, was there? Was there?

  "Maybe the rest of them are lagging back with the prisoners," suggested Kathy, who had taken to hanging out with Madeline.

  "They've never done that before," Madeline said. "Usually they just march in as a group. And why don't they have any rifles?"

  "I don't know," Kathy said. "It doesn't make a lot of sense to me."

  Madeline picked up her radio again. "Base to recon 1. Anything new out there?"

  "Nothing," Annette replied. "They've all passed by us and are approaching the last group of hills. The main positions should pick them up in about ten minutes. No sign of anything or anyone behind them."

  "I copy," she said slowly.

  "And Maddie," Annette added. "There's one other thing."

  "What's that?"

  "We got a good look at them as they passed in front of us," she said. "They don't look like they've been eating real well. They're all really skinny and their clothes are hanging off of them. A lot of them don't even have packs anymore, just sleeping bags."

  Madeline and Kathy shared a look of confusion. "I copy that, Annette," she said. "Keep holding."

  "They certainly sound like a group that hasn't done well in their war, don't they?" asked Kathy.

  "Yes," Madeline agreed. "They do."

  "So what now?"

  "Let's get out to the main positions," she said. "They should be calling in for clearance to enter in about twenty minutes. I guess we'll hear what they have to say."

  It had taken ten long days of marching along the freeway and through the thick mud around the slides and washouts, but now, at long last, the end of this horrible mission was finally in sight. Stinson and the others were but ghosts of their former selves, bordering on malnutrition and scurvy despite the food supplies they had been given by their victorious enemies. Two of the wounded had died on the march back and two more were showing the first signs of lethal infection from their wounds. All group cohesion had vanished more than a week before. Now they were simply a bunch of men that all happened to be heading for the same desSaration. Conversation was almost non-existent from day to day.

  "There are the hills," Stinson said gratefully as he spotted the twin peaks that guarded the entrance maze. "Thank God." His boots were falling apart on his feet, so rotted from mud and water were they, and he was dealing with a very nasty case o
f trench foot from the constant exposure to moisture. At times he hadn't even been sure where they were. There was just the pain in his legs and feet and the slapping of his tattered boots on the ground. He rarely even bothered worrying how Barnes was going to react when they finally entered the town.

  The other men grunted a little at his observation but none of them said anything. They kept moving onward, their eyes locked onto the maze, which was just now becoming discernable in the distance.

  As they came closer and closer it occurred to Stinson that he should probably contact the guards out front on the radio. He no longer remembered the code word that had been assigned so long ago but he didn't think that really Mickered anymore. He fished in his backpack for the portable radio, finally locating it beneath some cans of chicken noodle. The radio hadn't been used since his surrender to the Garden Hill forces. He wondered if it even still worked. Well, there was only one way to find out.

  He clicked it on and tuned the selector to the guard frequency. He took one last look at the men but none of them seemed particularly interested in what he was doing. Were any of them worried about Barnes' reaction? It certainly didn't appear so. He keyed up the radio. "This is Sergeant Stinson," he said into it. "Acting commander of what's left of the task force. We're approaching the town and request entry."

  He waited, knowing that the demands would start very soon. What had happened? Where was everyone else? And then there would be an extended debriefing. Would Barnes make him a scapegoat? Would he execute him or exile him for surrendering? He found that he didn't really care one way or the other. He was too numb to care.

  His level of interest in his surroundings came up a little however, when he heard the reply on the radio.

  "Mr. Stinson," a female voice said. "This is Madeline Rook, acting leader of the town of Auburn. Welcome back to town. You will find things have undergone a fundamental change while you've been away."

  Everyone stopped in their tracks as they heard this. Even the wounded in the litters raised their heads to stare. "That was a bitch!" someone said in disbelief. "Did she say acting leader of Auburn?" asked another.

  Stinson chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment before keying the radio again. "Please clarify exactly what you mean by a fundamental change," he said. "Where is Colonel Barnes and the rest of the men?"

  "Barnes is dead," Madeline answered. "So are most of the other men in town. We cut their throats while they slept and assumed power for ourselves. Barnes himself had his genitals removed from him and then was burned alive. Only a few of the men that had been on guard duty at the time survived. We are in charge of all of the town's weapons that have been left behind - which, as I'm sure you're aware - includes the majority of the automatic weapons. In addition, those of us that have prior military training have taught the other women how to use them. At this moment you have a whole lot of guns pointed at you and a whole lot of fingers just itching to blow your raping asses away. If you do not wish that to happen, you will disarm yourselves immediately and approach the maze. You will be given further instructions at that time."

  Now the men were fully awake and aware. They began to talk back and forth, asking each other if what they were being told could possible be true. The bitches had taken over town? They had killed Barnes and the other men? They were pointing weapons at them right now?

  "If what you say is true," Stinson said into the microphone, "then what are your intentions towards us?"

  "That depends upon what your intentions towards us are," Madeline answered back. "We are prepared to fight off all four hundred of you if need be. That is what we have been training for and I believe that we are quite capable of doing it."

  "As you can see," Stinson said sourly, "there are considerably less than four hundred of us at the moment. Nor do we have any weapons except for our pistols. Do you intend to slaughter us?"

  "We do not," Madeline said. "It is our wish that you surrender to us peacefully. If you do so, I will guarantee that you will not be harmed. However you must understand that you will not be allowed to leave. If you attempt to flee we will pursue you."

  Stinson looked at the other men for a moment, seeking their input. His answer was no more than a bunch of weary shrugs. He keyed up the radio. "We have nowhere to go," he told Madeline. "And we have very little food with which to get there on. I guess we don't really have a lot of choice in the Micker, do we? Will you take care of our wounded?"

  "As best we can," Madeline answered. "Now if you will all remove your weapons and drop them to the roadway, we can go about bringing you into the town."

  Another shrug was passed among the men and everyone unstrapped or unbuckled their pistols. No one bothered trying to keep one hidden. There was really no point in it. Once they were disarmed, Madeline directed them to approach the maze.

  "Stinson," she said over the radio, "I want you to come through first and alone. Pass the radio to the next man and he will be given instructions shortly. I would like to have a few words with you before the rest come in."

  "I copy," Stinson said. He handed the radio over to Jack Thomas, who just happened to be standing next to him. "See you on the other side," he told him.

  "Is this really a good idea?" Jack asked him, starting to have doubts about being at the mercy of the women they had once dominated.

  "I don't know," he said. "But it's the only idea in town right now." With that he began walking through the maze. It took him a few minutes to navigate through its turns and he was cognizant of the weapons that were undoubtedly tracking him the entire way. What would be his fate on the other side? Would they shoot him in the head? Would they imprison him? Or would they cut off his genitals and burn him at the stake?

  Madeline herself was waiting for him on the other side. The former junior wife of the second-in-command of the militia, he recognized her immediately. She was very beautiful and had been lusted after by many of the other men. Offers to trade two women just for her had once been common. She was, if anything, even more beautiful now. She no longer had that hollow, cowered look that had been the signature of Auburn women. She had a pistol strapped to her waist and an M-16 slung over her shoulder. Standing to the sides of her and slightly back were several other heavily armed women.

  "I trust you're not dumb enough to try something stupid," she said to him as he emerged onto the roadway.

  "No," he said. "I seem to be a little short on aggression these days. I trust that you'll keep your word and not shoot us down like dogs?"

  "As long as you behave yourself," she told him, taking a step closer. "What happened to the rest of the men?"

  "Dead," he said. "Or deserted. Mostly dead though."

  "The Garden Hill forces killed more than three hundred of you?" She seemed to be having a little bit of trouble with this concept. It was understandable.

  "It wasn't even that hard for them to do," Stinson said. "They landed troops in our path with their helicopter and chipped away at us the entire march. The hit us from the air at night. Some of our people ran off and took our food and ammo with them. By the time we got into position to fight we were already beaten. Bracken and the other leaders were dead by then and Stu was leading us. The hundred or so of us that were left went up against prepared defenses. They murdered us with each attack that we made. They dropped homemade napalm on us from the air. Finally I killed Stu myself and surrendered to them."

  Madeline searched his face for signs of deceit and found none. She knew that Stinson was telling her the truth. "It would seem," she said slowly, "that they knew you were coming?"

  "They did," he agreed with a sigh. "Jean and Anna told them."

  "Jean and Anna?" she said, pleased. "They made it there safely?"

  "That's what we were told," he said. He explained the conversation between Stu and Skip that had taken place just before the final battle. "So that's how they knew to look out for us. That's how they were able to start hitting us on our second day of the march."

  "All those people d
ead," Madeline said, shaking her head a little. She was still trying to come to grips with the idea that the men outside the maze were all that she would have to deal with. Her war was over before it could even begin.

  "And a few more on the way back," Stinson told her. "And it was all for nothing."

  "It depends on whose point of view you're looking at it from," Madeline told him. "Because Barnes was so hot to take that town and because Bracken was so hot to send so many men after it, we were able to do what we did. And guess what, Stinson. The little bitch you used to call your wife is the one that organized everyone. What do you think about that?"

  "Jessica?" he said, not even considering that it might've been one of the other two.

  "That's right," she said. "Yet another gift to us from Garden Hill. You managed to piss her off just enough to rally everyone behind her."

  "And where is she now?" he asked. "Are we going to be turned over to our former wives and dealt with that way?"

  "Jessica has been exiled," Madeline told him. "She turned out to be somewhat of a mixed blessing. She rallied us up to take over when the time was right, but she proved to be an even worse leader than Barnes was. She was last seen heading in the direction of Grass Valley and Nevada City. And as for your other question - no, we're not going to turn you over to your former wives. To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure just what we're going to do with you now. We've been so busy concentrating on keeping you from taking the town back that we haven't gotten that far in the equation yet."

  "I see," he said, staring at her. "So you may decide to burn us all alive after all?"

  "I don't think so," she told him. "I think we've all had enough death and enough cruelty to last us for a while. Calmer heads are in control now. Besides, men do have a certain use in a biological sense, don't they?"