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Post by texican on Dec 10, 2019 15:36:44 GMT -6
Hmmm...It is almost beginning to look like, with a little time and patience of course, that Ford may yet understand what it is that he was DESIGNED to be. And a lot more information and maybe some on-hands experiences.... Thanks mic for the chapter.... Texican....
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Post by 9idrr on Dec 10, 2019 21:42:20 GMT -6
If our boy is so distracted without realizin' why, just imagine if, while checkin' out old buildings, he'd stumbled across an old Playboy or two?
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Post by mic on Dec 11, 2019 19:53:27 GMT -6
Chapter 10 – They Shoot Dogs (part 1)
"Aw, man. He's dead!" said Nathan's voice.
“What? No!” came Ivy’s voice.
Ford lay on his back, eyes closed, in the exact same position as the evening before. Every muscle ached – even his toes. He wanted to sleep for a week, or at least another five minutes.
“Aw, shoot. Now I’m gonna owe Matthew ten coppers,” grumbled Nathan.
“I’m not dead,” muttered Ford.
“Oh, thank God!” gasped Ivy.
“Hey, don’t get so close to him,” said Nathan. “You heard what daddy said.”
“I’m not that close. Besides, he’s chained.”
Ford could feel a waft of cool air across his face as someone, presumably Ivy, moved near him. He kept his eyes closed. Oh please, just five more minutes.
“Are you okay, Ford?” Her voice was gentle, like the Tenders he recalled from his earliest childhood memories. Warm fingers touched the back of his hand.
It looks like I'm not going to get my five minutes. Ford breathed deeply and stretched out his arms and legs until they quivered.
“I’ve been better,” Ford said. He cracked one eye open.
The room darkened as Ben’s silhouette filled the doorway. “Ivy, what did I tell you?”
“I wasn’t that close,” she whined in her defense.
“You two get back up the house. You’ve got baskets to load. I do not want to be late and lose our place at the loading.” Footsteps rushed out of the pen.
“You’re coming with me,” Ben said to Jasper. “Hands behind your back. You’ll be in shackles today but don’t get any foolish ideas.
Ford heard curious clacking sounds where he expected the clink of a chain. He opened both eyes. Jasper stood with his wrists tied behind his back. Ben knelt behind him, slipping a board through slots in the ends of a pair of wooden U-shapes, one each around Jasper’s ankles. They were all were made of some dark, oily wood. Once Ben had a lock attached to the end of the wooden board, he untied Jasper’s wrists and unchained his ankle.
“Get yourself ready,” Ben said to Ford. “When I get back, you still have to clean pots before we go.”
Ford closed his eyes, relishing at least a minute of quiet before having to deal with the pots. He could not imagine how this day might turn out any worse than yesterday, but he knew better than to think he had seen the worst. Fate, it seemed, had a cruel creative streak.
“Wait. Just one more thing,” said Rachel as she turned and ran back into the house.
Ben heaved a heavy sigh. “You said that about the last ‘just one more thing.’ “ He was clearly impatient to get going. He paced past his children and slaves, all lined up on the path. Bags and baskets sat on the ground between them. While the others looked around, bored at standing in line, Cassie kept her back to Ford and never looked back. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone, in hopes of navigating a less-painful day.
Rachel returned to place a small, fabric-wrapped bundle on top of a basket full of other packets. “These bone crochet hooks should fetch a good price at the market.”
She nodded and hoisted the end of a long pole onto her shoulder. Cassie did the same, at the same time, with the other end of the pole. Three large baskets swung from their handles, hung from the pole between them.
As Rachel and Cassie started walking down the path, Nathan and Jasper hefted a pole onto their shoulders and followed after them. Three large fabric sacks hung from their pole. Ford lifted his pole end to place it on his shoulder. Ivy did the same. The sacks between them rocked back and forth. They followed Nathan and Jasper. Ben followed behind the group with a tall fabric bag on his back. He also carried a long rifle in his hand.
The load was not particularly heavy, but walking with it took concentration, as it was prone to swing. Ford walked close behind Jasper. He could see how Jasper’s ankles were free to move within the wooden U-shapes. The dark wooden board that connected the U-shapes rested on the tops of his feet. The assembly clicked and clacked as Jasper walked. The length of the board assured that Jasper could not take big steps. There was no way to run with those wooden shackles on.
As they shuffled down the path with their burdens, Jasper shifted to the right slightly and glanced back at Ford.
“Psst, Jasper. I’ve got to ask. Did you kill that Robert person?” Ford whispered as stealthily as he could. The creaking, chafing, and clacking of their loads provided some cover for a whispered conversation. The wide-brimmed straw hats that Rachel issued them hid their mouth movements from view.
“I didn’t,” Jasper whispered back. “That was Red and Cardon. I was on my way to the Rat’s granary with the sack when some Rats attacked us. That Robert must have been one of them.”
“Attacked you? Weren’t you in their village, trying to steal their food?”
“Well, yeah. That’s what we do. Been like that since forever. You see, back in the day, their people refused to share their food with my great-grandpap Simons. He tried to take it anyhow. They killed him. We’ve been settling the old score ever since.”
"That's it?" asked Ford. "One death decades ago, and you're still fighting over it?”
“Not just that. We kill some of them. They come after us. We go after them to avenge the Sky they’ve killed. I don’t expect a citiot to understand.”
Ford frowned. He thought he understood well enough. Revenge was never satisfied. Some argument, decades ago, has claimed many lives who had nothing to do with the original crime. Which of them actually failed to understand?
The west side of the river came into view in a gap between the trees.
“See that?” Jasper nodded toward the river. “That there is what freedom looks like. All I’ve got to do when I get free is make it across."
“Won’t these people chase you down and bring you back?”
“Not if I’m fast and get to the other side, I’ll have help. They won’t dare follow me up that bank.”
“Your people are over there right now, maybe watching us?” Ford straightened up to peer over the heads of Nathan, Cassie, and Rachel to the forested bluffs of the western shore. He could see no signs of anyone, only trees.
Jasper glanced around casually to ensure no one noticed them talking. He nodded with a grin.
“If they’re that close, why haven’t they come to free you?”
“Not that easy, friend Ford. Not that easy. Rats travel in packs. Not many BigSky out this far east. We’ll take down any single Rat we catch out alone, but going against a nest of ‘em is risky.”
“Hey,” Ben called out. “No talking up there.”
Jasper and Ford exchanged one last eye contact before lapsing into silence. The path had leveled out and meandered parallel to the river, though behind a barrier of tall brush. Ford trudged with his eyes down. Jasper’s new information cast a shadow over his plan to return to The City.
After rounding a bend in the bare dirt walkway, they came to a shady area beside the river. Tall cottonwood and maple trees formed a thick canopy over clear ground. Knots of people stood in a loose line, all carrying or standing beside some sack, basket, or bundle.
“This is why I was trying to hurry us,” said Ben, clearly exasperated. “Look at this line.”
Rachel pointed at the other peoples’ bundles, counting with her finger, her lips mouthing numbers. “I figure there are four canoes-worth of goods ahead of us, and there are five canoes in the water. We should be fine."
Ford watched several men, two carrying tall forked poles approach one of the trees near the river’s edge. One man threw a rope at the top of the tree trunk. The men with the poles took up positions on either side. They propped their forks against the tree trunk. The man with the rope pulled down hard. The tree trunk split in two, vertically. Both men with their poles walked carefully away from the splitting tree until the two halves lay on the ground.
That wasn’t a tree. It was two canoes stood together on end!
“There, you see?” Rachel pointed to the men carrying the two additional canoes to the riverbank. "Now, there's sure to be room for our stuff."
Ben shook his head and sighed. His gaze fell upon Ivy. “Why are you wearing your old pants? I thought you said they were getting too small for you?”
His comment prompted Ford to glance over. Ivy’s leather pants did look too short, exposing her ankles to thorns and brambles. That did not seem wise. The thin leather, stretched tight, did little to hide her ailment – moderate swelling at the thighs and hips. That seemed unwise too.
“Oh. These? Well, I…I didn’t want to…risk my new ones. That’s right. You know, They might get torn or something on this trip, or while harvesting. I figured I should save my new ones and wear my old ones.” Ivy put a wide smile across her face. Her eyes glanced around as if to ask, 'are we done now?'
“And why did you bring two purses?” asked Nathan. He pointed to the two small leather bags, one slung over each of her shoulders and resting on opposite hips.
Ford noticed that the crisscrossed straps pinned down Ivy’s shirt in the middle, accentuating her chest muscle swelling. Her condition was not as progressed as Cassie’s, apparently. The effect was two rounded cones. At first, Ford thought she had made another poor choice, calling more attention to her ailment instead of concealing it. Yet, the more he looked, the more Ivy’s round cones were curiously fascinating.
“Oh, um…” Ivy’s fingers fussed with the straps: one of light tan buckskin, the other of coarse rope spiral-wound with red yarn. “Well, I always take my usual buckskin bag but also wanted to wear Grandpa Joshua's bag. He gave it to me when…”
“I know, I know,” interrupted Nathan with a roll of his eyes. “He gave it to you when you turned sixteen as a reminder to always be vigilant because back in the day, he stopped a Dog raider who tried to steal his chickens by grabbing the raider’s bag but the strap broke, and the Dog got away but never returned, and all Grandpa had was the bag to prove it happened but let that be a reminder to us all to always be vigilant. I know. I’ve heard the story a hundred times. But why bring it today?”
“Well, in case I…find something good in the village later. Yeah, or on the path.”
“But that’s why you have your regular bag,” protested Nathan.
“Never mind, Nay-thun.” She shot him a punishing frown. “I wanted to bring it, so I did. That’s all.” When she noticed that Ford was watching, her face smoothed out instantly. She smiled, blushed, and looked away.
Ben and his people dragged their burdens a meter or two closer to the river as a fully-laden canoe pulled away, and an empty one took its place at the shore’s edge. The full canoes produced a low whir as they pulled away. A man in the back held a shaft in the water behind the dugout. The man in front used a wooden blade to steer. A group of three canoes traveled upstream together. They kept near the eastern bank and under the overspreading branches of the cottonwoods as much as possible.
“Hey, I-vee!” called out a voice. “Liking the pants.”
Ivy blushed but did not look up. She waved slightly but sidestepped to stand behind Ben.
“Hey. Lookie there. It’s not dead!" It was Erik. He and another man stood beside half of a tree trunk, swinging metal tools and making wood chips. "Got one more day out of it, eh?” He laughed. “Yer looking good too, Cass.”
Erik was not subtle about his looking up and down at Cassie. She stood motionless, her eyes narrowing as she stared back at Erik. Ford wondered if she was going to make his face sting. He thought he might not mind watching that.
The other man with an ax muttered some words to Erik. He resumed chopping. Ford was a little disappointed.
Ford sat on the ground beside his pole of bundles. Jasper knelt nearby. Ford leaned back on his hands, closer to Jasper.
“You said your people kill Rats if they find them alone?”
“Oh yeah. Take advantage when you can,” whispered Jasper. “This far east, there’s usually only three or four Sky in a group. Scouting parties. Plenty enough to take down a lone Rat. Hit and run.”
“If I…I mean, when I take a raft downstream back to The City, I’ll look like a lone Rat, won’t I?”
Jasper glanced at Ford’s clothing. “Yeah. They’ll take you for a Rat.”
“What if I tell them I’m not a Rat?”
“Tell?” Jasper snorted. “What makes you think they’d give you time to tell them anything? You won’t pass for BigSky. You got no beard at all, let alone the right beard. You might pass for a Platt, except you’re in Rat clothes and got no blue. Sky get along okay with Platt, but going down the Mississippi, you won't be in Platt country. Like I said, they won't be askin' ya. They'll be stabbin' ya. Travel deep in the woods. It’s safer.”
“I have to travel by river. Walking will take too long.”
“Hmm. Yeah, that’s a problem.” Jasper frowned at the ground and stroked his chin. “Dressed like that and all alone, someone’s bound to jump you.”
(end 10 part 1)
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Post by 9idrr on Dec 11, 2019 20:53:42 GMT -6
They all make it sound as though the poor citiot ain't got a chance.
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Post by texican on Dec 11, 2019 23:05:11 GMT -6
Jasper is not trustworthy and Ford does not yet understand....
Thanks mic for the chapter....
Texican....
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Post by sniper69 on Dec 12, 2019 4:17:09 GMT -6
Thank's for the chapter. I think Ivy is trying to get Ford's attention. Looking forward to reading more when it is posted.
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Post by mic on Dec 12, 2019 18:56:46 GMT -6
Chapter 10, part 2
“Okay,” said Ben, with a clap of his hands. “Everybody up. Our turn to load.”
Ford began to hoist his end of the pole onto his shoulder. He glanced back to ensure that Ivy was lifting her end at the same time. She smiled, straightened her back, and pulled her shoulders back slightly. His eyes lingered. He wondered why cones seemed so interesting. Elbows, shoulders, knuckles, and noses: they were somewhat pointy too, but not fascinating.
All of their baskets, sacks, and bundles fit into one canoe. Ben helped the man in the front drape a loose blanket of leaves over their packages. The boat resembled a long floating bush. Ben handed the man a piece of paper. The man scribbled on another piece and gave it to Ben as they exchanged words. When they were done, Ben and Nathan pushed the canoe away from shore.
“I hope they don’t take too long with the dye,” said Rachel. “I do want them to be completely dry before we move south this fall.”
“We’ll manage,” Ben put his arm around Rachel’s shoulders. She smiled up at him. It reminded Ford of one of the photos in his photo book. Ford studied Ben’s arm position. If that was an acceptable touch, he wanted to know how to do it correctly.
“You and Nathan head back home,” Ben said. He pointed at Jasper. “Have him carry your empty baskets. You didn’t forget your piece, did you?”
Rachel reached into her purse and pulled up a blue-black revolver just far enough for Ben to see it.
“Good, good. Keep an eye on him, both of you. Chain him up as soon as you get home. I’m going to take the girls and Ford down to the flax field to do a little more harvesting. We’ll come home through the village. I want to check in with Zeke.”
Rachel and Nathan waved over their shoulders. Jasper glowered straight ahead, his arms full of empty baskets. Ben motioned for everyone to follow a narrow trail closer to the river.
Ford glanced at the rippling brown water that flowed beside them as they walked. He wondered if he jumped in – right at that moment. Would the water deactivate the collar? If not, he would probably drown while paralyzed by the shock. If the water did neutralize the collar and he could get away, would some of Jasper’s people see him alone and kill him? Escape was getting more complicated.
Ben led them into an open meadow. “Let’s work this side now,” he said. With a sweep of his arm, he gestured to an area toward the river. “You girls work along that way and back up to here.”
Heh. ‘Girls.’ That is a handy word.
Cassie and Ivy spread out and moved gingerly into the thigh-high weeds. Some of the slender plants had small blue flowers on the tops of their stems. Both women reached down periodically to pull on the thin plants. To Ford’s surprise, they did nothing with the plants other than tug on them.
“This is our flax field,” said Ben. “We’re continuing our harvest. Here’s what you do. You bend down and grab a handful of plants down near the ground. Pull straight up. Don’t bend them. Just pull their roots up out of the ground. Shake out the dirt, then set it back down right near where you pulled it up and move on to the next one. Just like this.” Ben demonstrated.
“But why would you…”
“Just listen. Move through the flax carefully. I don’t want to see you trampling things over. Step in the little bare patches when you can. Push the flax aside before stepping. Pull up a handful here and a handful there and set it back down. Once pulled up, the stalks will start to dry out. We pluck them at random, so our field doesn't look from the air like someone is working it. We'll come back in a week to collect the dried stalks and uproot some more."
Come back in a week? I hope to be on my way to The City by then.
Ford pulled up a handful of stalks and shook them slightly. Dark crumbles of dirt fell out. He set the roots back atop the hole they came from.
“Yes, that’s it,” Ben said. “Keep doing like that. I’ll be working nearby.” He tapped the remote in his shirt pocket.
Pulling stalks was light enough work, but Ford's arms still ached from the day before. Moving randomly took some thought. The mind is more prone to follow patterns. Despite Jasper’s admonition to not help them any more than forced to, Ford did not want to betray the River People’s presence by making visible marks in the field.
Even if these people were descendants of The Haters, extermination (as the city officials put it) seemed wrong. He stole a glance at Cassie, bending over to pull flax. While it was true that she had a painful temper, it seemed totally unacceptable to let harm come to something so artistically shaped.
The midday sun beat down hard on Ford’s shoulders. He was glad that Rachel insisted that he take along one of their straw hats. Having something on his head felt odd and took some getting used to, but the shade was welcome.
Ford straightened up to stretch his back. All the hunching over was taking a toll. As he arched his back to stretch, he glanced over at Cassie, still working diligently. Each time she bent over, he noticed that his eyes were on her backside. Why was her backside so interesting? It made no sense. He chalked it up to having not grown up around women, so everything was novel. This was only his third day living among them. They were different than he imagined. They were more like Ada and not at all, like city officials. Even the few women citizens he had seen via furtive glances in the Women’s Park – the Carriers and Tenders – had no shape to them at all. If they had a shape, it was well concealed beneath their loose-fitting robes or pantsuits. Still, none of that explained why he kept glancing at Cassie whenever she bent over.
After a while, Ivy had worked her way over such that she was pulling flax between himself and Cassie. Ford had to lean over to see past Ivy. He wondered how tight leather could be drawn before the seams split? His wondering was interrupted when he noticed that Ivy stood up straight, frowning at him.
Uh oh. She must have noticed that I was not working very hard. I hope I’m not in trouble for that. Ford resumed pulling at a faster pace and tried to avoid glancing toward Cassie.
“Oh look, Cass,” said Ivy. “The rose-mallows are starting to bloom!” She pointed beyond the edge of the flax field to the taller weeds of the meadow. Several tall stalks sported big pink flowers.
“So?” Cassie sounded unimpressed.
“Mama loves rose-mallow. I’m going to pick her some.” Ivy zigzagged toward the meadow.
“You’re supposed to be working,” said Cassie.
Ford tried to keep his head down and work faster to make up for the time he spent watching Cassie. He did not want to get on his captors’ bad side. Escape was getting more difficult as it was.
“Ow!” yelped Ivy.
Ford looked up in time to see Ivy disappear amid the meadow grasses.
“Oh, ow, ow, ow. My ankle,” said Ivy’s voice from within the grass. She stood slowly but stooped over, clutching her leg. Ben stopped pulling flax and watched with a concerned look on his face.
“What is it, Ivy?” asked Ben.
“I…I think I might have sprained my ankle. Ow. It sure hurts. Cass, come help me walk back to the road?” asked Ivy.
“Stop being a big baby,” chided Cassie. “You’ll be fine. Just get back out here.”
“Ow, ow, ow. I can’t.”
Cassie put her fists on her hips and waggled her head as she spoke. “Well, I’m not helping you. It was your dumb idea to go pick flowers instead of working – like you should have been. Serves you right.”
"It's getting late," said Ben. "This is probably all we'll get done for today anyhow. Let's go. I want to talk to Zeke in the village."
Ivy hobbled a couple steps before collapsing onto one knee. “Oh, ow. I can’t.”
Cassie turned away and walked toward Ben. “Big baby. You’re on your own.”
Ben shook his head in frustration. “Girls. Why can’t you be nice to each other? Ford. You’re closer. Go help Ivy back to the road.”
“Me?” Ford froze in confusion. How could he help without touching her? Did Ben expect him to touch a woman? Was this some sort of trap to get him sent to their mines? Did they have mines?
“Go on,” urged Ben. “Let her hold onto your shoulder so she can walk.”
Ford turned reluctantly. Perhaps he could avoid touching her. Was it the same thing if she touched him? As he turned back to Ivy, her face suddenly changed. What he thought were wide eyes, and a hint of a smile shifted to eyes shut tight and a grimace of pain. Ford stood beside Ivy and glanced back at Ben. He was watching intently. Ford swallowed hard, his ice-cold hands clasped together at his beltline. What if this was a trap? What was he supposed to do?
Ivy startled Ford when she grabbed his forearm with both hands and pulled herself up to standing. She hopped on one foot, elevating the other foot behind her. “Okay. I think I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“Go?”
“To the road, silly. Walk to the road, but go slow. I’m hurt.”
Ford followed the edge of the meadow toward the road. The taller assorted meadow plants would conceal their trampled path better.
“Thank you so much for coming to help me,” Ivy said softly.
Why thank me? Ben told me to. “You’re welcome?”
Ivy hopped awkwardly, pulling heavily on Ford’s arm. “I suppose it was silly of me to wander into such uneven ground, huh?”
I believe Cassie said it was dumb. “These things happen.”
“You’re very understanding.”
Ford blinked several times and looked up. Understanding of what? Falling? That’s gravity. What’s to understand? “Well, I’ve fallen down plenty of times,” he said. The conversation was starting to feel like a class play in which everyone else knew their lines except him.
“And you’re sympathetic too.” Ivy looked up and smiled. “The boys in this village aren’t understanding at all and certainly not sympathetic. They’re crude and selfish. Not like you.”
Ford felt himself getting hot. Was it the afternoon sun? Ivy was not merely holding onto his arm to steady herself, she was squeezing his arm. Her hands felt hot. At one point, she stumbled and grabbed him around his waist and chest with both arms to stop her fall.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said but kept her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “I slipped.”
Why isn’t she trying to stand back up? I’d better help her stand up. “Here, let me help you up.”
He pried both of her hands off of him but ended up with both of her hands in his. She acknowledged that fact with a glance at both her hands and then up at him. Ford’s breathing was coming fast and shallow. Her hands were hot but surprisingly soft.
Ford tried to swallow but had no spit. “It’s getting really…hot…out here…” He glanced around. In The City, this would be a transgression worthy of death. Ben and Cassie were slowly making their way toward the road. They did not seem to care.
Why is she always looking at me? Ford started to feel faint.
“It’s too hot out here. We should keep moving.” Ford tried to keep his eyes straight ahead. Staring at women’s ailments had already been a painful experience for him.
Ivy hopped along beside Ford, leaning her shoulder against his. Even her shoulder is hot! How can a shoulder be hot?
“Hurry up, you two,” grumbled Ben. “I want to check in with Zeke on our way home. His place isn’t too much farther up the way. Think you can make it, Ivy?”
“Oh, yes. Ford is an excellent helper." Ivy smiled at Ford, adding ten more degrees to an already hot day. Ford tugged at his shirt collar. It was getting hard to breathe. He had never been so close to a woman. Even when meeting Ada, there was a meter or more between them. Did women give off some sort of vapors that were toxic to men nearby? Is that why his teachers said that women were dangerous that they would get him killed? Was it the vapors? Ford tried to turn his face away from Ivy to inhale, in case the air away from her was clearer.
Just inside the tree line stood a long hut on the outskirts of the village. Ford welcomed the shade but felt disappointed that it was no cooler. Several huts lined both sides of the pathway. Men and women moved about, carrying burdens, talking, or working on some object or another.
Ben led them around to a doorway. He knocked on the wooden frame. “Zeke, are you in?”
“Yup. Almost done with Julius. Come on in,” said Zeke’s voice.
Ben held the mottled green curtain up for Cassie, Ford, and Ivy to walk under. It took Ford's eyes a long time to adjust from glaring afternoon sun to the dim interior. He could hear some electronic humming and crackling. The air inside smelled faintly of ozone but stronger of damp wood.
“Hey! Ford!” It was Owen’s voice.
Ford turned in the direction of the voice but could see only silhouettes. "Owen?"
“Man, it’s great to see you,” said Owen. “I see you’re, um…busy…with a woman?”
Ford felt a rush of embarrassment, though he was unsure why. “Oh, uh, yeah, this is…uh, Ivy.”
“Hello.” Ivy’s voice was suddenly a full octave lower and had a curiously liquid quality. It sounded very similar to Cassie’s voice. “You’re one of Ford’s friends from The City?”
“Zeke, I wonder if you could look at this remote and collar,” said Ben. “Cassie reported that it wasn’t working correctly yesterday.”
Ford’s eyes had adjusted to the interior. He glanced at Cassie. She noticed and turned away, pretending to fuss with some electronic bits on a shelf.
Does she feel bad about shocking me? Or is she still furious and doesn't want to blow up in front of all these other people?
“Faulty, eh? I’ll have a look.” Zeke took the remote and popped off a back cover. He looked back at the older man seated at a table with a gray box in front of him. “Let me know if you’ve got any questions about that unit, Julius.”
“Ford, what have you been up to, huh?” Owen gave Ford a playful push on the shoulder. Owen’s hands were not hot at all. Were men’s hands cold and women’s hands hot? Maybe it was not vapors, but some form of radiation that women emitted. That might explain the heat.
“He’s been helping us process our flax,” offered Ivy. “He’s a very hard worker.” She squeezed his bicep.
Ford pulled at his shirt. “Heh, yeah. Flax. But what about you, Owen? What have you been doing?”
Owen leaned close so he could whisper. “It is the coolest thing, Ford. They’ve got a library underground. I don’t know where, of course, because they blindfold me, but they get to it by canoe. It’s cold in there and surprisingly dry for a cave. They have books, I mean, the paper kind – jillions of them – all lined up on shelves. Can you believe it? Remember how our teachers said all those paper books had all been destroyed to erase the hateful words created in the before-times.”
“Really?” asked Ivy. “If we find a book in some ruins, we bring it to Mr. Harris.”
Ford tried to subtly pull himself free from Ivy's grasp, but a shock stunned him. “Agh!” Ivy’s grip tightened as she helped keep him upright.
“It seems to be working fine, Ben," said Zeke. "Let me test the collar's battery." He moved a wand back and forth over the back of Ford's collar. "73%. It should be good for a long time. Don’t know what to tell you.”
Ford rubbed the back of his neck and grumbled. The fact that he had experienced only a quarter of the shocks possible was not encouraging. With his vision adjusted to the dim interior, Ford noticed that he could see out through the walls. The other huts, the people carrying bundles: the view was filtered but visible. That’s cool. You can see out, but you can’t see in.
A horn sounded. Two rapid notes: one low, then high. Everyone in the store froze for a moment. The horn repeated the notes. Zeke ran to a metal box and stared at a black screen. He banged on the side a few times, but the screen remained black.
“Get down!” said Ben in hushed but urgent tones. The horn sounded a third time. Everyone knelt or crouched on the hard dirt floor. Ben, Zeke, and Julius looked in different directions to locate the threat.
(end 10, part 2)
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Post by sniper69 on Dec 12, 2019 19:24:10 GMT -6
Thank you for another chapter.
I wonder is it some of Jasper's people or some of the folks from the city?
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Post by 9idrr on Dec 12, 2019 21:21:33 GMT -6
This is a great one, mic, and I hope it's done by Xmas time (year after next) or maybe the year after that, if you post every other day or so.
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Post by texican on Dec 13, 2019 12:42:48 GMT -6
Ford is learning.... Are the two sisters after Ford? What is the alarm.... A few more chapters will reveal.... Thanks mic for the chapter.... Texican....
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Post by mic on Dec 13, 2019 19:43:49 GMT -6
This is a great one, mic, and I hope it's done by Xmas time (year after next) or maybe the year after that, if you post every other day or so. Hehe. I hope to be done with this story before Christmas 2020. Thanks to everyone for your feedback thus far. You've suggested a couple things I hadn't considered but might try to work in. Thanks for reading!
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Post by mic on Dec 13, 2019 19:47:06 GMT -6
(chapter 10, part 3)
“Get down!” said Ben in hushed but urgent tones. The horn sounded a third time. Everyone knelt or crouched on the hard dirt floor. Ben, Zeke, and Julius looked in different directions to locate the threat.
Ford looked through the walls, expecting to see the villagers running to and fro. Instead, he saw nothing. The people were gone. The huts were gone. Even the pathway was gone. Low bushes filled the gap between where the huts were. There was nothing but a forest.
Zeke pulled on a rope, hauling up a wide netting outside of his hut. It looked like a sporadic tangle of threads with leaf shapes attached randomly. He threw a switch, and all of the electronics in his cabin went dark.
There was a long moment of silence where even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
A faint, high-pitched whine carried across the river. All eyes turned to face the sound. Across the river, two black dots rose into the sky over the tree line. The dots drifted in lazy zigs and zags but generally toward the village.
“Blackshirts,” Ben whispered under his breath, “on skimmers.”
“Why didn’t my scanner pick them up?” Zeke asked himself.
“Shh. They’re coming this way.” Ben glanced over his shoulder.
Ford followed his gaze, looking through the roof of Zeke’s hut. He could make out a shape high in a tree. It was a man wearing a suit of leaves. He had a long rifle nestled into the fork of a branch. Ben knelt behind a workbench, his rifle aimed at the dots.
“Are you going to shoot them?” Ford asked.
“Not unless it’s absolutely necessary,” whispered Ben. He settled his cheek against the stock. “If we kill those two, a hundred more will be here within an hour. Our people can’t get that far in an hour. Many would die." Ben studied the dots as they grew larger. "No. Only if it’s absolutely necessary.”
“What about mama?” whispered Cassie.
“She heard the horn,” said Ben. “She’s probably half packed already.”
“But how did they get this close?” asked Zeke. “I picked up those two cargo flights the other day just fine. I tested the system this morning.”
Ben shushed them all. The two black dots had grown into the shapes of men standing on thin black platforms, like air-rafts. Their fans produced a distinctive, almost fierce, whine. The two blackshirts crossed the river, low enough that their fans whipped up dark patches of ripples.
“They’re coming this way,” gasped Cassie.
Ford saw the man in the tree lean his face against the stock of his rifle.
“They’re landing in the meadow,” whispered Cassie.
“Maybe it’s just a random patrol,” said Ben. “Everyone stay calm. They might just go away if they see nothing. Wait them out.”
The two blackshirts landed their skimmers in the meadow. The fans sent up a spray of leaves and grass.
“But why didn’t I see them coming?” Zeke whispered. “The system’s got a range of over a hundred miles.”
“Maybe skimmers are harder to detect,” offered Ben.
“Why would skimmers be way out here?” asked Cassie.
“Everyone just stay calm,” said Julius. “Blackshirts don’t like to enter the woods. They may just look around from out there. There’s nothing to see now. When they decide there are no Outsiders here, they’ll just move along.”
The men in black walked somewhat aimlessly around the meadow for many, agonizingly long minutes. One of them waved excitedly to his partner and ran to a spot nearby. He bent over, pushing aside the tall grasses. When his companion joined him, the first man held up a small leather bag with a rope strap.
Ivy looked down. Her Grandpa Joshua’s purse was missing. She looked up, horrified, glancing from face to face. “It’s…I must have dropped it when I fell,” she said.
“Now they know some Outsiders are around here," grumbled Cassie between clenched teeth.
“Uh, oh, listen. That’s not good,” muttered Zeke. Everyone in the hut became aware of a deep tone that could be felt more than heard. It came from across the river.
“There it is!” said Cassie. She pointed to a gap between two hills on the western bank.
A black lifter rose above the trees. It was ten times the size of the craft that the salvage crew had. It had a boxy, industrial shape with no attempt at streamlining. The big fans thrashed the trees beneath them as the lifter slowly hovered its way toward the river. A turbulent fog arose from the water and shrouded the black craft as it crossed low and slow. It emerged from its fog bank as it passed over a marshy island. Landing gear legs unfolded from the belly of the machine, like a giant insect. It paused a moment before settling onto its legs. The fans spooled down to a standby speed, ready to rise at any moment. It reminded Ford of the cat just before it jumped on him.
“A mother bird,” Zeke nodded to himself. “I didn’t think skimmers could be out this far alone. I should have detected something that big a hundred and fifty miles out.”
The two men carried boxes from their skimmers and began assembling something.
“They know Outsiders are around here,” whispered Julius. “They’ll look harder.”
“I’m sorry,” whined Ivy. “I’m really sorry.”
Ford felt terrible for her. She looked devastated at the thought that her little mistake might spell doom for her whole village. He did not know why he did it, but Ford put his arm around her shoulder. He could feel her trembling. She looked up at him. “I didn’t mean to…”
“Shhh.” Hissed Ben. “They’re setting up one of their bigger scanners. Our cloaking will hide us from their small scanners but not one of the big ones. Julius, we’ve got to act fast. No time for a council decision.”
“Agreed. The prisoners?” Julius asked. “Maybe push ‘em out at Spafford Bluff?”
Ben nodded. Julius crawled silently to the back of his hut and disappeared in the darkness. Through the walls, Ford could see him emerge, crouching low as he ran toward a steep hillside. Several other men came out of nowhere to meet him. They gestured for a few moments, then all turned and vanished.
Julius emerged, followed by two men with long, unkempt hair and long beards. They were gagged and had their hands tied behind their backs. The other men pushed them from behind. The whole party turned and disappeared into the foliage.
“They’re almost done putting it together,” Cassie whispered. “They’d better be fast.”
Ivy shook her head in denial as she whispered to Ford. “I only wanted you to…”
Ford squeezed her shoulder. At that moment, making Ivy feel less afraid and guilty was the only thing that mattered.
“Listen up.” Ben looked Cassie and Ivy in the eye. “This is our only chance. If it all goes bad and we have to take those two out, we’ll have to abandon everything we can’t carry and run as fast as we can. Do you understand?”
Cassie and Ivy nodded. Ford and Owen looked at each other.
Run where? Ivy can’t run. She can’t even walk.
The faint sound of shouting rose from upriver. The two prisoners tumbled down a brushy slope a hundred meters upstream from the blackshirts. The prisoners shouted and waved their arms.
“Who are they?” asked Ford.
“They’re the Dogs who killed my Robert,” said Cassie, a growl of vengeance in her voice.
“Won’t they just tell the blackshirts about your village?” asked Ford.
Ben shook his head, gravely. "That's not how blackshirts work.”
The two men in black jumpsuits bolted up from their assembly project, causing the unfinished tower to topple over. They ran back to their skimmers and strapped themselves to the waist posts. A high-pitched whine arose, drowning out the shouting of the prisoners.
The two bearded men turned to run away from the rising skimmers. They ran for all they were worth. The blackshirts produced long black guns, shouldered, and fired. One of the prisoners fell face-first into the grass. The second ran on without looking back. The blackshirts fired again. The second prisoner tumbled and rolled.
“Blackshirts don’t capture anyone,” said Ben. “They only shoot. Outsiders don’t get a chance to speak.”
One of the blackshirts hovered over the body of the first prisoner to attach a line to him. He dragged the body to where the second prisoner fell. The two blackhirts landed, dismounted, and pulled long knives – almost swords – from their belts. They chopped off the right hand of each dead prisoner. The blackshirts each put a foot upon the bodies and held up their trophies. A flash came from one of the skimmers.
When the blackshirts returned to land beside their partially assembled scanner, they argued and flailed their arms at each other.
“I think they broke it,” whispered Cassie.
“I hope to God you’re right,” said Ben.
The men in black gathered up their broken project and trophies, lifted off, and flew toward the angular black craft that sat rumbling on the marsh island. They each hovered over the top of the ship for a moment before descending and disappearing inside.
The fans of the boxy machine spooled up to their deep drone. Grass and spray roiled up around the craft. When it rose twenty meters or so above the river, it rotated a slow 360. Everyone in the hut froze and held their breath. When the machine finally drifted away to the west, behind the tree line, everyone exhaled.
Julius returned from the back of his hut. “I think it worked, Ben. They seemed satisfied that they found who they were looking for.”
“Did they?” Ben stood up. “What if they were really looking for them?” He pointed to Ford and Owen. “They could be back soon. Put the citiots in the jail. It’s empty now. We may have to get rid of them very soon.”
“Daddy, no!” pleaded Ivy.
(end chapter 10)
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Post by 9idrr on Dec 13, 2019 20:04:50 GMT -6
Out of the fryin' pan...
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Post by texican on Dec 14, 2019 16:25:13 GMT -6
Thanks Mic for the chapter.... Now what will happen? Texican....
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Post by mic on Dec 15, 2019 16:19:03 GMT -6
Chapter 11 – Trial By Fire (part 1)
“Get in there, you two.” A man pushed Ford and Owen through a stone-lined opening. The interior of the jail was damp, cool, smelled of wet earth, and old urine. The man closed a door: made of horizontal and vertical boards of the same dark wood as Jasper’s shackles. He latched the door with a heavy wooden lock.
“Let’s get the other two in there as quickly as possible,” said Ben.
"And the Dog prisoners, too?" asked Julius.
Ben nodded. “Better to have our trouble in one place while we decide what we have to do.”
Ford could see Ivy standing on the path as if stopped at the edge of some invisible line she was ordered not to cross. She looked worried and fidgeted with her fingers. When Ben and Julius departed, she followed them but kept looking back.
The man who locked them in took up a guard position where the path to the cave and the path to the village intersected.
The front wall of the cave had been framed in with large boulders, roughly cut into rectangles, set to make a single door opening. The interior was scant more than a short, dead-end corridor. The ceiling and sides of the cave were cut into the solid limestone of the bluff. The floor was made of slabs of squared-off limestone. Two thick metal loops stuck up from the floor along the back wall.
“Now what?” asked Owen.
“I don’t know.” Ford shook his head. “I thought being chained up at night in a chicken coop was bad.”
“Really? I got to sleep in a bed.”
“I don’t think I want to hear about it,” said Ford. He peered through the square openings of the dark wooden door. “They’re worried that the blackshirts will come back because they’re really searching for us.”
“Well, they aren’t,” said Owen.
“You sound pretty sure.”
“I am. Oh, don’t get me wrong. If the blackshirts saw us, they’d shoot us down, just like they did those Dog prisoners. Blackshirts don’t do search and rescue. Outside of The City, their job is to hunt and exterminate.”
“You’re an expert on blackshirts all of a sudden?” Ford kept looking through the door. The river sparkled through the distant leaves. It seemed like every time he thought he was closer to getting back to The City, his fate actually turned worse.
“Not an expert,” said Owen, “but I learned a lot over the past couple of days while helping Mr. Harris file books in their proper order. We all know the blackshirts as the arms and legs of the Matri within The City. Mr. Harris was explaining how, long ago, some political group was rising to power, and their strong-arms always wore black. That party won an election.”
“Do you mean The Triumph?” asked Ford. “I always thought that was more of a battle or something.”
“That’s how the history books tell it, but apparently it was more ordinary, like winning an election. After that, they convinced the people to let them change the rules and the laws, supposedly to make everything more equal and better. One of the rules was that there would be no more elections. They would always be in power.”
“Somebody has to be in power,” Ford said with resignation.
"Well, yes, but one of the first big things they did with that power was enact Earth Cure. Before The Triumph, people lived all over the place, scattered far and wide. The new people in power said that it was totally wasteful and bad for the earth. They convinced everyone that they would die if they didn’t live in just one big city instead of scattered all around. They said the only way to survive was to build The City and leave Nature pure and unspoiled. Since they controlled the rule book, they ordered everyone to help pay for a totally new city – one big enough to hold everyone on the continent.”
Ford recalled the childhood class plays with him as a sad tree until the kids marched out of the forest and into The City. “And the Redeemed?”
“Those were the first people to move into The City. They thought it was a great idea. They wanted to save Nature, no matter what it took, so they willingly gave up their scattered homes to board the trams for The City.”
“Willingly?” Ford’s eyes narrowed. “There were unwilling people?” The class plays never featured anyone staying in the woods. Everyone marched into the fiberboard city, and the trees were happy.
“Oh yeah.” Owen nodded. “Mr. Harris showed me old videos. He’s got some old displays and players running off batteries. Anyhow. Lots of people didn’t want to move into The City. They were protesting and shouting. They sounded both angry and scared. City leaders made new rules that ordered everyone to move into The City, whether they liked it or not. That’s where the blackshirts came in. They made sure everyone boarded the trams.
“Most of the resisters surrendered. Some still refused. City officials controlled all the jobs, the housing, food, medicine, electric power, everything. So, they told the resisters that if they wanted anything The City had, they would have to do things the city way or starve. The rulers ordered all of the old apartments to be ruined so no one could live in them anymore. That’s why we saw them all knocked down the same way. City workers dismantled the before-times towns to provide materials to expand The City.”
“So, these River People must be remnants of those who refused to leave,” Ford mused out loud.
“Apparently. It sounds like there were a few small groups at first – in a lot of different places – who refused to board the trams. They hid in the woods, or the mountains or out in the deserts. At first, city officials tried to ignore them.”
“Probably thought they’d all die off without city food and supplies,” added Ford.
“But they didn’t: not all of them, anyway. Mr. Harris told how the people before him lived in the woods along this river, made their own food, made shelters. They started out as four families but found three more families as they traveled north. Together, they formed a group and actually started to thrive.”
Ford frowned at the ground. “Some of those first groups must not have gotten along. River People have been fighting with a group on the other side of the river that they call the Prairie Dogs. Those people call themselves BigSky. One of them is a prisoner at the same compound I was in. His people call these people the River Rats.”
Owen continued. “Too many names. I’m getting confused. Anyhow, when the Outsiders, whatever they call themselves, started to get too numerous, city officials would send out patrols of blackshirts to hunt them and exterminate them. I remember hearing speeches where officials called it ‘a periodic cleansing of the earth’ like they were doing laundry.”
“So those blackshirts we saw today, they were looking for just anybody, not necessarily us?” asked Ford.
“That’s how I figure it. We were way off course when we crashed. Why would they be looking here?” Owen leaned against the limestone wall then slid down to sit on the floor. “They came from the west. Could be they were tracking a group that was traveling toward the river.”
“Even if they weren’t looking for us. Those two that they shot might not be enough. Would a craft that large be looking for just two men?”
Owen shook his head. “Probably not.”
“Great.” Ford slid down the opposite wall to sit facing Owen. “Even if I do manage to get out of all this, I’ll have blackshirts trying to kill me, and groups of BigSky who will try to kill me.”
“You’re still thinking of traveling back to The City after all of this?”
Ford sighed. “Yes.” The more he learned about The City, the more imperative it was to get Ada out.
“But why go back?” asked Owen. “I mean, yeah, we’re locked in a jail, and they might be thinking about killing us again…"
“Those seem like good reasons to leave, don’t you think?” interrupted Ford.
Owen shook his head. “I don’t think these people will kill us. From what Mr. Harris knows, I think they’ll see that we are not the problem. It’s actually not so bad here, really. I rather like working with books. There is so much to learn. I noticed you made a new friend – and a woman too! She seems nice. She was touching you. What’s up with that?”
“Ahem, yeah, well…” Ford did not know where to begin. The embarrassment returned. “Women out here are…really different. For one thing, it isn't against the law to talk to one or touch one. There does, however, seem to be some law against looking at them or at least looking at their ailments. Have you noticed that all of the women out here have a kind of…shape?" Ford drew an hourglass in the air with his fingers.
Owen nodded. “I did. At first, I thought it was a disease or something.”
“Me too! But they’re all like that. How could all of them have the exact same ailment and yet seem healthy otherwise? One of them at the place I was being kept, named Cassie, is especially…” he drew the hourglass again. “I don’t know why, but I could not seem to help myself but to look at her. I’ve never seen an ailment like that before. I found out that she really does not like being looked at.” Ford rubbed his cheek while remembering.
“Is that the one who was hanging on your arm?”
“No, that’s her sister, Ivy.”
“Sister?”
“Yeah. There are a lot of weird words out here too. For some reason, they keep close track of what groups babies get assigned to for growing up, and they have separate words for all of the connections. It seems unnecessarily complicated to me.”
“So why was this Ivy hanging on you?”
“Oh, she hurt her ankle and needed help walking.”
“She didn’t look hurt to me. She was walking fine.”
Ford then recalled how Ivy walked away behind Ben and Julius. She had no limp. Was she pretending? Why would she go to all that trouble?
“Yeah, I don’t know." Ford shook his head, vigorously. Foggy thoughts were getting in his way. "Maybe she heals fast. Ivy is kind of... She’s friendly, but she emits some kind of strange radiation.”
“Radiation?” Owen leaned closer. “Really? Like neutrons, or something: that kind of radiation?”
“I don’t know about neutrons, but yeah. When she stood close, I could feel it. After being exposed, I felt hot and weak and light-headed."
“Whoa. That sounds bad.”
“Oh, it was. I always wondered what the teachers meant when they said women were dangerous. We lived apart, so how would we know? After being close to this Ivy, I’m thinking that maybe the reason they’re dangerous is that they all give off some short-range radiation, and somehow it's toxic to men.”
A silhouette darkened the door. The wooden lock clacked, and the door creaked open.
“Teuz!” exclaimed Owen and Ford at the same time.
"Hey, Owen. You're looking pretty good for a slave. And Ford, you…well, you look pretty rough, to be honest.”
“Heh, yeah. How have you been, Teuz?” asked Ford. “You’re looking rather…not starving.”
“No,” Teuz blushed and looked at the floor. “Martha, my owner, is a baker. She makes food and sells it to the others. At first, I sat on the floor and ground corn. She would let me eat the things that fell on the floor. I didn’t care. They were sooooo good.”
Ford remembered with a smile. Mmm. Corn cakes with maple syrup.
“I think she started dropping things on the floor on purpose. She thought I was funny, so she started letting me help her prepare the corn at the table.
“She was telling me all about how they don’t go to stores to pick up boxes of food. They create their own food in lots of hidden little places. They grow corn in clearings in the forest, and they let beans grow up on the corn. They spend a lot of their summer creating food so they will have something to eat in the winter. It sure seems like a lot of work."
“Yeah,” said Ford with a nod. “Their clothing is a lot of work too. That shirt you’re wearing? Made out of flax. I can tell you, flax is a lot of work.”
“Making food is too,” continued Teuz, “But, you know what happened to me this morning?”
“Teuz, how would I have any idea what happened to you?” asked Ford.
“Okay, you’re right. You wouldn’t. Anyhow, just this morning, while I was kneading the dough, Martha started to run her fingers through my hair and said I was cute. I froze. I mean, my head touched her hands. I didn’t know what to do or say. I felt all tingly and light-headed.”
“What did I tell you, huh?” Ford said to Owen. “It’s the radiation. Teuz felt it too.”
Teuz leaned close so he could whisper to Ford. “Have you noticed that all the women around here are…different? I mean, they’re not like they are in The City.”
“We were just talking about that when you came in,” said Owen.
“I thought maybe that was the reason they took me away because I let a woman touch me. Is that illegal here?”
“Apparently not. No, we’re here because of the blackshirts.”
Teuz gasped. “I heard about that. I was grinding corn when the horns blew. Pretty scary, but…”
“They think the blackshirts might be looking for us, so they’ve locked us in here while they decide what to do with us.”
“Were looking for us?” asked Teuz.
Owen shook his head. “Probably not. Their job is to eliminate any unauthorized people that they find outside of The City.”
“We’re outside of The City,” said Teuz.
“Well, yes,” hedged Owen. “But they’re not looking specifically for us. Anybody outside. It’s kind of like back home when they’d have those periodic programs to kill the rats if there got to be too many of them.”
“People aren’t rats.” Teuz sounded indignant.
“City officials think they are,” said Owen. “In The Outside, they consider people to be a pollutant, a vermin. From what we saw, they shoot outsiders on sight. We just saw that after they’ve killed an outsider, they chop off one hand as a trophy.”
“That’s probably some sort of proof thing,” added Ford. “So some blackshirt couldn’t just say ‘I killed twenty today’ without proof. His manager could demand to see twenty hands.”
Teuz swallowed hard and peered toward the door. “Really? And they’re out there now?”
(end 11, part 1)
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Post by sniper69 on Dec 15, 2019 16:50:40 GMT -6
Thanks for the latest chapter. mic you have definitely set the hook with this story and I can hardly wait to read more to see what happens next.
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Post by pbbrown0 on Dec 15, 2019 20:33:59 GMT -6
Mic, your skills as an entertaining story teller are starting to show, AGAIN !!! Great job.
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Post by 9idrr on Dec 15, 2019 21:10:01 GMT -6
As good as this is gettin', I don't think any of us readers want to settle for anything less than a couple of hundred chapters.
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Post by texican on Dec 15, 2019 22:04:47 GMT -6
“People aren’t rats.” Teuz sounded indignant.
“City officials think they are,” said Owen. “In The Outside, they consider people to be a pollutant, a vermin. From what we saw, they shoot outsiders on sight. We just saw that after they’ve killed an outsider, they chop off one hand as a trophy.”
Well, the boys will have to convince the River People that they are not bad so they can go on living....
Ivy has the hots for Ford.... Maybe Ford will get lucky if he can survive....
Thanks mic for the chapter....
Texican....
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Post by mic on Dec 17, 2019 11:17:47 GMT -6
(chapter 11, part 2)
The doorway darkened again. The lock thunked and clacked against the door. Three bearded men were pushed into the small stone room, jostling between Ford, Owen, and Teuz. The jail felt as full as a tram on the way to work.
“Jasper!” said Ford. “Why did they put you in here?”
“Don’t know nothin’, friend Ford.”
“You know him?” asked Owen.
“He was a slave-prisoner at the same place I was held. I got his old job of emptying the night-soil pots. By the way, Teuz, how did you know we would be emptying buckets of feces? That was uncanny.”
“We?” Teuz looked bewildered. “I never had to deal with buckets of feces.”
“Me either,” added Owen.
“What? It was just me? Bah!” Ford wanted to throw up his hands in frustration, but there was no room.
“This the one I was talking about,” Jasper said to two other new prisoners. “Must be his friends too. They’re citiots.” The other two bearded men looked Ford up and down with unconcealed disdain.
“He’s alright,” Jasper said, “but it’s hard to believe how clueless he is. Don’t know nothin’ about women.” Both of the other two men smiled slightly menacing grins. "But, I think Missy Fireball woke him up."
“You citiots think the Blackerds were looking for you?” Jasper asked. “And, that’s why you’re in here?”
"These...Rats, " Ford felt uncomfortable using the BigSky name for Cassie's people. Still, given that the six men were shoulder-to-shoulder, diplomacy seemed more prudent than accuracy. “Some of the Rats think the blackshirts were looking for us. We don’t think so.” Ford motioned to Owen and Teuz. “We were put on a salvage crew because The City didn’t want us. They wouldn’t come looking for us.”
“That black lifter came from the west,” added Owen. “We were working north and east.”
“The west, eh?” Jasper stared down and combed his beard with his fingers.
“Could be they were tracking some of our men,” whispered one of the new men. “Whaddaya think?”
“Some from Clear Lake, maybe?” said the other.
“Since they’re not looking for us,” said Teuz, “why put us in here?”
“Could be they’re planning to toss us all down that bluff if the Blackerds come back. Give ‘em something more to kill and hope they’ll go away.”
Owen's eyes grew wide. He rubbed his wrist at the thought of his hand, becoming a trophy.
The remainder of the evening was spent mostly in quiet. Occasional whispers interrupted the background of crickets and frogs. They gnawed on fragments of old hard corn cakes tossed through the door for their supper. The use of the communal pot was awkward. With no room for everyone to lie down, the six men sat up against the limestone walls, three facing three, the feet of one between the hips of two across from him. Despite the summer heat, the stone jail was too cool to allow more than occasional dozing. The prospect of becoming a moving target the next day did little to encourage sleep.
As the morning light grew, voices and clamor arose in the village. “What’s going on?” Ford asked the guard.
“Never mind,” said the man. “You. Pick up that pot. You’re going to dump it.”
“Me?” asked Ford. “Why me?” Do I have ‘Feces Man’ written on my forehead?
The guard held up a remote as his response. He relocked the door after letting Ford out and led him to a pit at the base of the limestone bluff. While he dumped the pot (knowing to take a deep breath first and hold it), Ford could see several men carrying boxes and poles, all headed up into the hills. I wonder what that’s all about?
Breakfast in the cell was a single pot of boiled corn mush. All six prisoners had to take turns scooping with their fingers. Before they could finish scraping the bowl clean, the door opened again.
“Bozeman!” announced Teuz.
Ford felt conflicted. Part of him was glad to see a familiar face. The other part was not happy at having a killer so nearby.
“Hey. You’re all in here too,” said Bozeman. “What’s going on? No one will tell me anything.”
“You didn’t hear about the blackshirts?” asked Owen.
“No. What happened? I was working in the mine and sleeping in there too.”
“A blackshirt lifter landed out on a river island yesterday. A couple blackshirts looked around,” said Ford. “We don’t think they were looking for us, but maybe they were tracking some of their people.” Ford pointed with a thumb over his shoulder.
He hesitated to finish the story since it included some of Jasper’s people being thrown out as sacrificial decoys. Those two sacrificed prisoners might have deserved their fate for killing Cassie's fiancée. Still, it made the River People look bad. He did not want to do that.
“We’re all in here because the Blackerds might come back,” said Jasper, “the Rats will probably throw us all out by the river so the Blacks will have someone to shoot.”
“Is he serious?” Bozeman asked.
“I’m afraid so,” said Owen. “Blackshirts don’t look for lost salvage workers. They purge Nature of contamination. That means people. Us.”
Raised voices outside of the jail caught everyone’s attention. The guard was arguing with Ivy. He was shaking his head and pointing back down the path. Ivy was in his face with a pointed finger.
“Who’s that?” Bozeman asked. “She’s sure giving that guy an ear full.”
“That’s Ford’s new friend,” said Owen. “Ford, come up here and see.”
Ford pushed his way through the others to peer out the door. The guard continued shaking his head but stepped out of Ivy's.
“Oh, Ford.” Ivy looked tragically sad. She reached out one hand but withdrew it when she noticed all the other prisoners watching. “This just isn’t right. You didn’t do anything wrong. No one will listen to me. But…” She pulled a roll of cloth from her buckskin bag.
“Mama made fresh corn cakes for breakfast. I know you like them.” She smiled like a Tender as she rolled up the warm corn cake and pushed it through one of the square openings.
“Thanks, Ivy.” Ford took the cake and tore it into several pieces that he then handed out to the others before biting into his own piece. Ivy looked bewildered.
“Does Ben know you’re doing this?” Ford asked as he savored his fragment.
“Daddy? Well…” She dropped her eyes. “He didn’t say I couldn’t come, exactly, because…he doesn’t know. He left early this morning to go up in the hills and work on the antennas with a lot of the other men. Mr. Johnson thinks there's something wrong up there, and that's why his equipment didn’t detect that blackshirt ship. I don’t know anything about antennas so…”
Ivy's attention was interrupted by screams and shouting coming from the village. Two shaggy men ran into view, their faces painted red and yellow. A wide red V on their foreheads resembled exaggerated fierce eyebrows. A yellow stripe crossed their eyes and nose. An inverted red V went from his mouth downward. One of the running men waved a long knife above his head, the other an ax. Both shrieked as they ran toward the guard.
The guard rushed to engage the two. Ivy glanced at Ford with panic in her eyes. One of the painted men sparred with the guard while the second man peeled off and ran directly to the jail door. He threw his arms out wide and roared at Ivy. She covered her face with her arms. The painted man knocked her into the bushes, squared up his footing and swung his ax at the wooden lock. It took two chops to break it.
“BigSky forever!” he shouted as he flung the door open. “Run!”
Jasper and the other two prisoners, shoved Ford and his companions aside as they stampeded through the door. They pushed Ford to the floor. The man with the ax turned to the bush Ivy had fallen into. He pulled her out by one wrist.
"Ah, ha! And a prize too!" he shouted.
(end 11, part 2)
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Post by texican on Dec 17, 2019 15:26:45 GMT -6
Ford will be off to the rescue of Ivy....
Thanks mic for the chapter....
Texican....
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Post by 9idrr on Dec 17, 2019 21:40:48 GMT -6
Ford will be off to the rescue of Ivy.... Thanks mic for the chapter.... Texican.... Sounds great for the story line, but my guess would be that any rescuin' he does would be the accidental kind. Of course, that would also give him a ginormous axe, thereby raisin' his status among the other escapees, I'm sure. Then again, it may be that I've totally underestimated ol' Ford.
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Post by pbbrown0 on Dec 18, 2019 6:20:48 GMT -6
Ford may be clueless about women, so far, but he has been resistant to the past efforts made to train the instincts out of him. He will be DRIVEN to protect anyone who has been kind or helpful to him, (the pack/clan instincts) even when that is in conflict with his plans (getting back to the "friend" he had back in the city).
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Post by sniper69 on Dec 18, 2019 19:24:40 GMT -6
I think Ford is going to go save her - and when threatened by Jasper and his ilk - snap and go full Rambo on them. Or maybe he'll have Bozeman and Tuez with him and they'll be the ones who will (or maybe all of them). There - an action sequence. Queue the music. mic - yet another good chapter. Thank you for sharing.
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Post by mic on Dec 20, 2019 16:42:50 GMT -6
Chapter 11, part 3
(from the end of 11, part 3)
Ivy screamed in fear and rage. It was the first woman’s scream Ford had ever heard in person. It sent a shudder up his back. The hairs on his neck stood up. Ivy kicked and pounded on the man with her free arm, but the painted man was unfazed. He dragged back toward the river.
Ford felt an overpowering rage that he had never felt before. He scrambled to his feet and charged down the path after the man. Must stop him!
His companions ran after him. Without any weapon, his only plan was to knock the man over. Running at full speed, he leaped. His shoulder hit the painted man squarely in the back. The two of them tumbled to the ground. Ivy rolled to one side of the path.
The man quickly got to his feet and in a crouching posture. Ford matched him. The two regarded each other for a moment.
“Stinkin’ Rat,” growled the man. “I’ll make you pay for Red.”
What am I doing? He’s huge and he’s got an ax! I’ve got nothing. Ford glanced around quickly, in hopes of seeing a branch or a rock. He saw nothing useful but did see another painted man chasing two frightened women and a half-dozen children into a hut. He had a flaming torch in one hand.
Ford looked over his shoulder to Owen and Teuz. “Stop him!” He pointed to the man with the torch.
The man in front of Ford reeled back his ax to take a mighty swing at Ford. Recalling Cassie’s slap, Ford anticipated the arc of the swing. From the way the ax moved, Ford could tell it was heavy. It would not be able to change course once in motion. The man was setting his stance for a high swing at Ford's head or neck.
Once the stroke had begun, Ford dropped to a frog-squat and (recalling Jasper’s plan to jump up and knock Ben down) leaped forward the moment the ax was overhead. Ford’s head hit the painted man in the chin. The ax, at the end of its swing, had the man off balance. Both of them tumbled to the path again.
When they both regained their feet, the man had empty hands.
He lost the ax. Great! But, he’s still huge.
The man quickly drew a knife and flailed out his other hand, attempting to grab Ford. The man’s knife hand was poised near his belt for a quick stabbing thrust. Ford knew he had to keep distance between himself and his opponent. He swatted at the man’s hand, but their thumbs interlocked. Neither would let go. The man pulled Ford close and thrust his knife at Ford’s belly. The blade started its travel far enough away for Ford to see it coming.
No!
Ford turned enough that only his shirt was cut. He grabbed the wrist of the man's knife-hand. Locked hand to hand, the two men fell onto the path. The raider tried to yank his knife-hand free but Ford held tight. He tried twisting free. Ford tightened his grip.
He’s stronger. Can’t keep ahold. Slipping!
The man’s face was twisted in a scowl, exaggerated by the red and yellow paint. He had Ford on his back and twisted his knife hand back and forth. Ford tried to tighten his grip but could not prevent the man from eventually breaking free. He raised the knife for its final plunge when he suddenly arched his back and screamed. The man fell onto his side as one arm tried to reach around behind him.
Like when he was wrestling with the wildcat, Ford took any interruption as an opportunity to move. He rolled onto his side enough to push up quickly with one arm. The man rolled off.
Ford pulled himself away and jumped to his feet. The painted man had his own ax stuck in his back. Bozeman still had both hands on the handle.
“Where’s Ivy?” Ford shouted as he looked around frantically. Bozeman did not answer. He stared at the dying man as he gasped and gurgled on the path.
Searching left and right, Ford spotted a leather-clad leg in the brush. He pushed the branches aside, expecting her to get up. She lay still, face-up, and eyes closed. He gently pulled Ivy out. A quick look showed no apparent injuries. Yet, when he sought to adjust her head to a more comfortable angle, he had blood on his hand. It came from the back of her head. She hit something.
Teuz and Owen swung tree branches at the man to prevent the raider from getting close to the hut. Children’s screams and crying could be heard from inside.
“Boze!” shouted Ford. He pointed at the man with the torch.
Bozeman glanced over his shoulder. He twisted the ax free and came running at the raider, screaming and swinging the ax in wide circles. The man dropped his torch, drew his knife, and squared his footing to face the charging Bozeman. While he fended off Bozeman’s first swing, Owen’s tree branch found the back of the painted man’s head.
The raider reeled for a moment, stunned by the branch. Bozeman spun up for another swing of the ax, but an arrow struck the man in the ribs. He turned to run but collapsed after three steps. Whoops and shouts arose behind Ford and the others. The men of the village ran down the path waving knives and spears and screaming in the same way the painted men had done.
The raider who had been wrestling with the jail guard gave up his fight and turned to run. He got half-dozen steps before a spear caught him in the side. The village men ran through Ford and his companions, chasing the fleeing men.
Ben saw Ivy on the ground and slid to a stop. “Ivy?” He dropped to his knees beside her and grabbed ahold of her shoulders. She hung limp in his hands. “Oh my God, what happened?”
Ford held up his bloody hand and pointed to the back of her head. “One of the Dogs was taking her. She must have hit her head when she fell.”
“Oh, Ivy, Why were you out here?” gasped Ben. “Why?”
Ford had never seen a man with such anguish on his face. It reminded him of the old man in the park: the Gen X-er crying over some memory of the before-times. Ben felt the side of her neck for a moment then raised one of her eyelids to examine her eye.
“What is it? Will she be okay?” Ford asked.
“Hard to say. She's breathing okay, and her pulse seems strong. Maybe she’s just been knocked out. I hope to God it’s nothing worse.” The sound of men shouting and fighting distracted Ben. He looked back and forth between Ivy and the path to the river.
“Don’t move her. Stay here and take care of her. I’ll be back.” With that, Ben jumped to his feet and ran down the path, knife drawn.
Take care of her? What does that mean?
Ford wanted to chase the painted men too. He wanted to swing big sticks and strike at them. His heart still raced from the fight, his head pounded, and his breaths were deep and fast. Sitting on the path beside an unconscious woman was not what his body wanted to do at that moment.
Yet, he felt he could not leave her alone, either. Was he guarding her? All he could think to do was hold her hand as he had seen Ben do.
“What the ell is going on here?” asked Owen between deep breaths. “Has everyone gone crazy?” He leaned over, hands on his knees while he wheezed. “Is she hurt?” Owen glanced at Ivy.
“She’s unconscious.”
“Who were those men?” asked Owen.
“They must be Jasper’s people. They came to help him escape,” said Ford.
“By burning people?” asked Teuz? He held his side as he breathed deep at fast.
“That’s probably revenge,” said Ford. “They seem to be all about revenge.”
Ivy stirred and took in a deep breath.
“Ivy. Are you okay?” Ford knew it was a stupid question, but he could think of nothing better to say.
Ivy’s eyes fluttered open and glanced left and right. Her eyebrows knit in a mild frown as if she were trying to figure out where she was and rejecting whatever answers she was coming up with. When her gaze fell upon Ford, she blinked at him several times, trying to focus.
“Ford?” She sounded hesitant.
“Yes. I’m Ford.”
Her arms suddenly grabbed him around the middle of his chest, the side of her face pressed against his sternum.
Ford looked up at his companions. “Um. I think this means she’s better?”
“Out of the way,” boomed Ben’s voice. “How is she? Where is my little girl?”
Ford looked up as best he could with Ivy still clutching his midsection. "I think she's better. She's talking and moving around and knows who I am. She also has really strong arms.”
Ben dropped to one knee. "Oh, thank God. Ivy, It’s Daddy. How do you feel?” He took one of her hands and squeezed it.
She let go of Ford to lie on the path, propped up on her one elbow. “Oh, daddy. I think I’m okay. My head really hurts, but I think that’s it.” Her eyes grew wide suddenly as she remembered. “That man!” She sat up, peering frantically between the men circled around her.
“He’s dead,” said Ford. He moved aside so she could see the fallen raider lying on his face, a red gash in his back.
“He tried to drag me off, Daddy,” said Ivy. “Ford stopped him.”
Ford cringed at being given credit. He might have knocked the man down, but he was almost killed afterward. “Actually, Bozeman stopped him.”
“What were you doing out here, Ivy?” asked Ben. "I told you to stay at home."
“I wanted to bring Ford a corn cake.”
Ben shook his head. “I told it might not be safe with most of our men in the hills.”
“I…I just wanted to…” She hung her head. “I know. I should have stayed home.”
A procession of men trudged into view. Behind the vanguard, seven Dog prisoners shuffled along with their hands tied and a rope linking them neck-to-neck. Half a dozen men with spears at the ready followed them. The group stopped. Elijah walked toward them. Two other young men followed him. They picked up the dead BigSky warrior by his feet and shoulders.
“I think we got them all, Ben," said Elijah. "Three dead, counting this one, four raiders captured. Near as we can tell, there were seven in the raiding party. Got the three slaves back too. Nobody made it back across the river.”
"That's good," said Ben. "They've seen too much. We're going to have to trade them much farther east, so they can’t talk when this happens again."
“Let’s talk about trading them later,” said Elijah. “We’re going to hold them up on Spafford Bluff for now in case that black ship comes back soon.” Elijah turned to follow the two men carrying the dead raider.
“Are we going to be held up there too?” Ford asked.
Ben helped Ivy to her feet and stared at her with a wistful look: a mix of concern and relief as if she were four years old and skinned her knee while playing. "I don't think so."
Two older women approached the group around Ivy. The rounder of the two addressed Owen. “Ah, there you are young man. We just wanted to thank you and your brave friend for how you rushed to our aid and stopped that savage Dog. We had our hands full gathering up the children.”
“Or else we would have given him a damnable thrashing for sure,” said the other woman. She held up one fist and shook it.
“We want to commend you to your elders, but we don't recognize you. What clan are you from? Are you Schultzes?”
“Schultzes?”
“You haven’t the dark skin,” said the woman with the fist, “so we figured you weren’t Harrises or Smiths. Becker clan, maybe?”
“Clan?” Owen looked at Teuz and Ford as if they ought to say something.
“Are they of your Andersons, Benjamin?” the rounder woman asked.
“Actually, these four are not from any of our seven clans. They are the city people we, um…found a few days ago.”
The two women gasped and clutched their hands to the chests. “But, we heard there was a Disposition. Weren’t they made slaves?”
Ben took a deep breath and took a long look at each of the four. “They were.”
Zeke Johnson strode down the path, into the middle of the group, ignoring any conversations in progress. “Ben, I still do not understand it,” he said. “Everything checked out up there. I even just now picked up a cargo flight eighty miles out. Why are you all looking at me? Did I interrupt something?”
“Kind of,” said Ben. He put his arm around Ivy’s shoulders. Her sense of balance had not fully recovered.
“Hmm. Well, looks like no one’s talking now,” said Zeke. “I’m thinking now that the problem isn’t with our equipment. I’m thinking that the blackshirts have changed their equipment. City craft have been using the same technologies since before I was even born. Just about all their electronics emit the same background static. They never cared, of course, because they think they’re the only ones on the continent with electronics. We could could hear ‘em coming for miles.”
“Until now?” asked Ben.
“Maybe until now,” continued Zeke. “Don’t know if they figured out that we could detect them from far off, or if they just did some upgrade that plugged the leak we’d been tuned to.”
“So, what do we do? We can’t have the blackshirts dropping in on us like that,” said Ben. “I suppose we can go back to posting distant lookouts with optics, but that doesn't give us all that much of a warning, and our lookouts get preyed upon by Dog patrols."
“Well, I suppose the next time one of their new ships is near, I could scan the whole spectrum and see if they leak on some new frequencies,” offered Zeke. “That takes a lot of time, though. I would hate to be around a blackshirt ship that long. Very risky.”
“What about our lifter?” asked Ford. “We were flying back to The City in a little lifter when we crashed. Maybe it has some of this newer technology?”
“There’s a wreck out there?” Zeke perked up.
"Back there, …someplace." Ford pointed over his shoulder. "Our machine was kind of old. That’s why it failed and we crashed. But maybe…”
"Worth a look. Worth a look." Zeke clapped his hands together and began to rub them. "I'll get my boys and be back in just a few minutes. Don't let him go anywhere, Ben. We've got some salvage to do." Zeke hurried down the path.
“Hmm,” mused Ben. “I hadn’t thought about how you boys got to our blackberry patch. I was certain you’d been dropped off as spotters.”
“We tried to tell you were a crashed salvage crew,” said Ford.
“Guess I wasn’t hearing that,” said Ben. “Chalked it up to spotter lies. Think you can find your wreck?”
Ford nodded confidently. On the inside, he was less confident. No mental images of the route came to mind. It all seemed like a featureless forest. Could he find the wreck?
"Oh, Teuz! My Teuz. You're okay!" exclaimed a round-faced woman as she ran up the path. "I heard that Dogs attacked the jail, and I worried…" She grabbed Teuz with both arms and hugged him to her chest. She stood about a head taller than Teuz.
“He did nothing wrong, Ben,” pled the round-faced woman. “They should not have put him in that jail in the first place.”
“We did what we thought we had to do, Martha,” said Ben. “We’re rethinking all that now.”
“These two helped save the children,” offered the first woman. “Fought off a Dog until our warriors could show up.”
Martha gasped and pushed Teuz away enough to look at his face. “Fighting with Dogs? Teuz, that’s terribly dangerous. Why would you…? Oh, never mind. Ben, can I take him back home now?” She scruffled Teuz’s short curly hair.
Ben nodded and suppressed a smile.
Zeke returned with a dozen young men, each wearing a large but empty cloth bag on their backs and carrying wooden boxes by handles.
“No time to lose. No time to lose.,” said Zeke. “Which way, young man?”
(end chapter 11)
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