RED SOX: They are going to give us a roller coaster ride this season, I think.
FEEDBACK: is welcome and encouraged p.phair@comcast.net
Jaimy tried to warm the chill from her bones by standing closer to the firecan. The flames were almost extinguished. Their daily ration of combustibles was spent and the unit was bound to only get colder. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought. Instinctively, she pulled her worn leather jacket closed over her narrow chest. A rain drop plunked into the firecan from the vent hole above when thunder rumbled in the distance. The dying fire hissed and puffed smoke as if complaining about being rushed to its own ending.
"Great, just great," Jaimy muttered.
"Forget it. It ain't doing no good over here anyway. Get out of your leathers and get into the huddle," a sleepy unit mate groused.
Jaimy glanced over her shoulder. Nine or ten bodies nestled together under meager blankets as close as they could get to the back wall. The aluminum roll door at the front of the unit seemed to attract more cold than keep out. Some nights it got so frigid fingers would freeze to the pull handle. It was always a bloody scene tugging the unfortunate idiot free. Of course, water could facilitate the release without blood shed but nobody wanted to waste any water from their daily food rations.
"I'll be over as soon as I bank it," Jaimy replied.
Before she could grab the poker, a muffled shout echoed in the night air. It was loud enough to be heard but not clear enough to be understood.
"Fuck!" Jaimy and several unit mates cursed as one.
"Another sortie? Fucking unbelievable! Where is he getting all these Rustlers from?"
Jaimy shook her head as she grabbed her gun, "Doesn't matter. Cletus got 'em and we got to fight 'em so shut your mouth and get your gear." She paused a moment before a grin spread across her sooty face, "Unless you want me to save you the trip out and shoot you myself?"
There were grumbles but the band of Urbanites started to move. Jaimy grabbed the handle and tugged the roll door open. The night air was cold and thick with the smoke from hundreds of fires. Some of the flames were warming other storage units housing the rest of the lesser city of W Gate Mall. However, the bulk of the smoke drifted in from Bost, a capital city.
Jaimy took a deep breath of the familiar fumes. A slight cough rattled her body but she quickly shook it off. She took several steps out onto the broken pavement before another shout rose above the steady generator engine rumble powering W Gate Mall's lights.
"WRITER APPROACHES! WRITER APPROACHES!"
Jaimy gave a deep sigh and holstered her sawed off shotgun. "Relax. It's just another messenger. I'll go out and see to it."
"You gonna surrender us this time," a voice chuckled from the darkness behind her.
"Keep bustin' my balls and I'll consider it."
Jaimy left her unit mates laughing. The thunk of her boots hitting the concrete competed with the splats of rain as the drops began to fall in earnest. She hurried to the only entrance inside the wall protecting the W Gate Mall. Her grandfather helped design the fortification of freight storage containers lying end to end which ringed the city. His warnings about hostility arising among cities and towns as supplies dwindled were well heeded by his community. They spent ten years building a defensive wall around themselves and gathering as many supplies as they could cram into their new home.
Other places believed the federal forces would regroup and persevere if given enough time. They waited too long. Foolish. It didn't take more than a few years of anarchy before the most vicious people lead frightened mobs to seize control of small towns. Cities, which had already plunged into chaos, were easy prey for marauding Warlords. Fighting between the fiefdoms was inevitable. The strongest survived to rule; imposing their will as the new law.
There had been many offensives against W Gate Mall over the years. None had succeeded. Most lasted only a few days. But, Cletus and his army of Rustlers were a different story. They had relentlessly attacked for more than a month. Swarms of well equipped and organized soldiers would race the wall and start to climb it. There weren't enough bullets in the world to stop them. The Urbanites of W Gate Mall were forced to send fighters over the wall for hand to hand combat. They were no match for the Rustlers but it slowed the advancement.
Jaimy was drenched when she arrived at the city gate. A crowd of twenty or so unit leaders were already gathered. Morris, the mayor, stood next to the man in a Rustler uniform holding a piece of yellowed paper. The Writer, a protect class because of their rarity, was allowed to pass through the gate by the wall guards.
"What's the message this time?" Jaimy asked.
Morris looked a bit worried when he replied, "Cletus wants to talk truce but only with kin of Liam."
"Is that what it says or is that what his Writer told you it said?" Jaimy asked with contempt.
"If you doubt me, why not read it for yourself?"
The arrogant little man held the note out for her. Jaimy took the paper. When Jaimy squinted her eyes to see the letters, the man's grin broadened. He was ready to laugh out loud when she shook her head.
"It don't say no such thing, Morris." The writer's smile faded, "It says to tell any cunt bitch or fagot offspring of Liam to meet out at the water tower to talk truce."
"Bitch!" The Writer hissed.
Jaimy smiled. "I am at that. I'm also Liam's kin. So, run back to your Master and tell him to have his ass on Tower Hill at dawn."
It may have been a truce talk but Jaimy armed herself anyway. Shotgun, extra bullets, knife, and an automatic with extra clips were all strapped securely to her. She revved the cycle's engine enjoying the feel of the roaring motor under her. Urbanites only used cycles on rare trips outside the city walls. Everything within W Gate Mall was close enough to walk to. The community would not allow waste of gas and oil for convenience purposes.
She could see him waiting on horse back before she turned her cycle onto the crumbling road leading up the water tower. Like his men, Cletus was muscular with tanned and weather skin. Urbanites tended to be on the smaller side, a bit sickly, and pale. Rustlers seemed to revel in the outdoors while Urbanites hid inside their assigned units when not working or fighting off invaders.
His horse held firm when Jaimy skidded to a halt facing Cletus. A light spray of dirt and grass landed harmlessly between them. She cut the engine and climbed off the machine. She wanted to be able to pull a weapon if need be. She waited for him to speak.
"You're kin of Liam?" He asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.
She nodded.
"Kind of scrawny, ain't you?"
She shrugged. Cletus frowned with disappointment when she didn't rise to the bait.
"Any idea why I wanted to speak with kin of Liam?" She shook her head in answer and he continued, "I wanted his heir to see the destruction of all that he built."
A very loud boom exploded in the distance. Jaimy spun on her heels to face back the way she came. Huge plumes of smoke rose from W Gate Mall. Flames shot higher than the fortress walls into the brightening dawn.
"You said this was truce talk!" She shouted turning back to the man.
Jaimy pulled her shotgun free of its holster. Before she could finger the trigger, Cletus' whip lashed around the barrel and snapped the gun out of her grip.
"I guess I lied, you stupid cunt!" Cletus laughed and snapped the whip again.
The lash wrapped itself around Jaimy's right forearm. She saw his spurs jab the horse's side. With thoughts only of survival, Jaimy grabbed the whip tethering her to Cletus with both hands. She held on for her very life as her body hit the ground and started to drag behind the galloping horse.
The constant pulling on her bloody wrists was nearly unbearable. But, she just couldn't force her battered body to move any faster. Her feet were bared, bruised, and bloodied. They could do no more than the rhythm less steps she was currently inflicting on them.
"I'd hurry up if I were you, Bitch," Cletus shouted at her from the saddle. "Unless, of course, you enjoyed the last ride you got."
He and his soldiers laughed loudly. It was more loudly than the joke deserved if the truth was to be told. However, Cletus was a victorious Warlord so his jokes would get the best laughs and the last laughs.
Jaimy stumbled when she tried to quicken her pace. Her heart raced when she nearly fell. Another drag behind Cletus' horse was not an experience she wished to repeat even though the ground now beneath her looked a bit softer than the city streets.
Many days back, grass had broken through the hard pavement of long abandoned roadways. Today miles and miles of green stretched out before them. The air was clear of smoke and soot. She couldn't remember which day she saw her last building. Instead of the familiar comfort of concrete and steel, they were surrounded by hills. Jaimy knew she was deep in the heart of the rustics. Fear gripped her at the thought.
The sound of a whip slapping flesh and an anguished cry reminded Jaimy she might be lost but she was not alone. Every man, woman and child of W Gate Mall over five and under fifty were tethered in long lines behind her. She had to push back the horrid memories of the Rustlers slaughtering the very old, the very young, and the weak. The screams of the dying would plague her dreams for the rest of her life, she was certain.
"Who knows how long that will be?" She mused. "Maybe only a few more hours? Maybe, if I'm lucky."
"Men! We are home!" Cletus shouted as his horse crested the hill.
Jaimy was relieved the rope binding her wrists slackened. She didn't stop walking even though the horse had stopped. Once she was even with the horse's snout she could see the land beyond the hill top.
Pastures spread clear to the horizon's edge. Finely maintained crops were laid out in seemingly endless squared blocks. Wandering herds of animals moved like one body in corralled fields. Wood and stone homes dotted across the country side.
It was the largest object in view which struck terror in Jaimy's heart. The irony of it was how much she thought she missed the sight of concrete and steel since her capture. One image can change everything she realized. There at the center of the farm lands was an enormous oblong structure. Nobody needed to tell her it was Third Bowl Stadium; home of New Rome.
"Merciful God," she prayed.
Cletus laughed, "He's not going to help you. Actually, nobody can help you now."
Fury overruled common sense and she glared at him. His humor abruptly ended. A vengeful tug on her rope dropped her to her knees.
"You'll learn to mind your manners. You're never to look your Master in the eye!"
Jaimy barely had time to get to her feet before he kicked the horse into a trot. She struggled to keep up. His speed was too fast though. She couldn't manage to stay upright for long. Her pitiful cry echoed across the valley as she was dragged toward the rest of her life.