The Hive: A Post-Apocalyptic Life Page 11
They walked out and around the house. Hogan was excited to show her the deer. It was a big deal. This was a lot of meat they could store for the winter and into next year. He’d have to keep an eye on the pasture early in the mornings. Once they finished processing the meat, he’d try for another one. He’d been unable to order food off the internet. Going to the store was too dangerous. He had managed to order and receive the NVGs. He could only get one pair; the price had doubled. They weren’t the best, but they would do the job and were better than nothing.
He looked around, checking the tree line. Trish had a good-sized property, with a nice big pasture. It also had large thickets of woodland and he was glad. That was where he found quite a bit of the deadfall. If they were careful, it would last them for years. Years.
It was the first time he’d even admitted to himself that he would be there for years. If not, forever. He’d been there over three months. The country was shutting down around them. Economic ruin was just around the corner. No power now, no food. North Korea had done its job well. It had divided the country in more ways than one. The populous no longer trusted the government. News about Washington’s antics had stopped, either blocked or completely censored.
They were getting close to the barn, and he realized that he was still holding Trish’s hand. As though it were the most natural thing in the world. He looked over at her and she looked up at him and smiled. He opened the large barn door. Then a gunshot exploded, jarring him.
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Topeka, KS
Ian Dent stood in line, there were people all around him, complaining and talking at once. He was in stunned disbelief. He’d just planned to go to the tractor store, that was it. A quick run in and back home. Yet, here he stood, with all these people, waiting to be processed into the Hive. He’d gotten into town earlier that day and had made a couple stops. He’d stopped by the bank to pick up cash, only to find out they now had coupons that were to be used at the local stores.
He knew things were bad in Topeka, but not this bad. He and his family had stayed on the farm and had been watching the drama unfold, all over the country. Things were getting bad. When he’d headed to the tractor store, there had been a roadblock. He’d been ordered to drive to the Sear’s parking lot and leave his truck and get on a bus. When he’d tried to protest, the guard had threatened him.
“Sir, the city is shutting down and martial law is in effect. We can handcuff you and take you that way, or, you can do as I say and go to the Sears and leave your truck. You’ll get it back; this is only a temporary situation.”
Looking around at the angry and confused people around him, it didn’t look temporary to him. He’d tried to call his mother, but the cell service wasn’t working. He’d asked to use a phone but was denied. He felt trapped. His family would worry about him and the ineffable grief his mother would suffer, tore at Ian’s heart.
“Sir, please take a seat.” A man had said.
“Look, I need to get home. I live on a farm and they need me.” Ian told the clerk.
“I’m sorry sir, the city is now in lockdown. Don’t worry, this is just until they can get the rioting under control. This is for your own safety.”
“But I’d be safe if you’d just let me go home. I’d be one less person you’d have to deal with.” Ian argued, trying to make some sense out of the situation.
“It’s out of my control sir. We’re all trying to work to get things normalized. I’m sorry. Now, I need to go over your medical history.” The clerk said, looking at his computer.
“What? My medical history. Why?”
“You’ll be going into quarantine sir, because of the radioactive fallout, we want to make sure you’re safe. Also, you’ll be released into the Hive population and we want to make sure you’re not sick or susceptible to anything. You know, allergies and so on.”
Ian just stared at the man, as though he’d lost his mind. None of this made sense, none of it. Dread tickled at the back of his brain. Something wasn’t right, something was wrong with all of this. The whole construct was something offensive. It was like one of those movies, where the main character is sane, but the world around him is insane. But the world tells him, no, that he’s the one that is crazy and the world is normal. But it wasn’t normal, nothing about this was normal. He looked around at the people and the word sheep drifted through his brain. They were all sheep, being led to slaughter.
SIX
Franktown, CO
Milly wiped her hands dry. She’d finished up the dishes. Everyone was in the living room, around the woodstove. The room was toasty and snug. A soft smile curved on her face as she watched her granddaughters. Christmas had been solemn among the adults, but they’d managed to make it magical for the girls. Milly had gone into the attic and had rummaged through the old junk that she kept up there, unable to throw any of it away. She’d found Laura and Marybeth’s old toys and games. She’d selected a couple things and had brought them down and cleaned them up. They had a few years’ worth of Christmas toys; all they would need to do was resurrect them. Perhaps Quinn and Bart could also make things, in the future, like a swing or some such.
Laura had helped her clean the found toys up. The toys weren’t new, but they were in good condition.
“Thanks mom, the girls were really happy this morning.” Laura grinned, walking over to her mother. She slid her arms around her mother’s neck and kissed her on the cheek.
“Well, we can’t go to stores, but we can make do. Those cloth dolls you made, turned out sweet. I think the girls liked those the best.” Milly grinned at her daughter.
“Sure, if you don’t take in the crappy sewing.” Laura chuckled, her eyes crinkling. Milly hugged her daughter. Since shooting that bastard in the front yard, her daughter had finally stepped up to the plate and accepted the new world they lived in. She had stopped moping around for Hogan, who was never coming home. Milly loved her son-in-law, but the man was lost to them. If the reports they heard on the radio were even fractionally true, then there was no coming back from this. Their government had made a horrible situation worse.
All they could do, was pick up the pieces and move on. She also saw something budding between Quinn and her daughter. She smiled. Quinn was a good man. Zoe had been a sweet woman and had died too soon. But Milly was a pragmatist, and life went on, with or without the dead. Laura went back over to sit on the floor, they were playing a board game. Quinn was holding Allain and Alexa laid up against him. Laura was saying something, and Quinn grinned.
Milly watched the interlocutors; their body language spoke more than their words. Bart said it was a confluence of romance. She tittered at the thought. Bart was such a romantic. Christ. She looked at her husband, who was sound asleep in his lounger. His mouth slightly opened, a book resting on his stomach. He’d taken his boots off and his feet popped out from the knitted afghan that covered him. One toe poked shyly through a hole in the sock. She’d have to mend that.
Quinn had shot a turkey the day before, so they had turkey for their Christmas dinner. They’d all eaten their fill, for once setting aside the careful measure of food. It was Christmas after all. The turkey had put Bart into a coma. Grunting with amusement, she went to the couch. She looked out the window, the light was fading fast. There was heavy snow on the ground, and a hush outside. She’d close the heavy curtains in a few minutes. She saw the beautiful violet streaks across the sky, the clouds purple, pink and blue, reflected on the snow. It had been a good day. No one came by. With the cold and snow, it kept people in. Come January, it would kill many. She wondered at the people in Denver. Were there any alive? There were no fireplaces in those nice apartment buildings, so how would they keep warm?
No, if they’d not been killed by the bombs, starvation, or violence, then the bitter cold would kill them. January and February were brutal and the cold wind and windchill made it deadly, along with deep snow. Inside their home was roughly at about fifty-eight degrees. The heat did go up into the seco
nd floor. Everyone wore extra clothing, sweaters and socks. At night, the girls slept under several heavy quilts with hats on. She and Laura checked on them during the night. They were getting used to living with less.
Milly counted them blessed, however. They were healthy. Laura was a nurse and could see to their needs, if anything happened. Bart and Quinn were good hunters and their larder was full of canned meat and jerky. The dogs patrolled, taking turns. One was always outside, even at night. It was now like the changing of the guard. Someone was always up at night. While Bart slept, she was up, roaming the house. She didn’t mind. She rarely slept anyway. She took a nap during the day to catch up.
Quinn would spell her, and she’d head back to bed. They couldn’t let their guard down. But at least for now, things had been quiet. It made them all paranoid, but they couldn’t waste their time with fear. She smiled a vicious smile. She was waiting for the stupid son of a bitch that stepped foot on their property next. She’d plug him sure and fast. There was no kindness here, no handouts, no second chances. They’d learned that lesson several times.
Bart snorted and sat up abruptly, his white hair sticking straight up. Its wispy tendrils making him look as though he was in some kind of shocked misapprehension. The group looked over at him, his pale blue eyes owlish and large. Milly sniggered.
“Come on, you old devil dog, it’s bedtime.” Milly said, getting up off the couch.
“Oorah.” Bart grunted softly. Milly smiled and walked over and shut the heavy drapes. She walked over and kissed her granddaughters, good night. It was still early, but she was tired after a long day. There had been no noon nap. She’d be up in a couple hours, prowling the house.
“Night kids.” She grinned as she pulled her husband to the bed. Bart grunted and lifted a hand in farewell, he didn’t resist the pull of his wife.
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Topeka, KS
Tilly sat at the foot of her bed. She was combing her blonde hair out. She’d had to cut her golden locks short. The shampoo was some kind of industrial shampoo and there was no conditioner. Her hair had tangled easily, and she’d been going nearly bald, trying to comb the long tangles out. Megan was in the shower now. They were on the even day. The water wasn’t hot, but it was warm. They chose to shower at night, after their long days of work. Showering in the morning only lasted until you started sweating at hard labor. She was beginning to get used to the hard days. Her body had gained some of the weight back.
There was no deodorant yet, though they were promised some. It was barebones existence at the Hive. The newness had worn off quickly. Their first day there, she’d gone quickly through the laws set down at the Hive. Capital offenses were rape, murder, theft, drugs, drinking, prostitution and food exploitation, food hording. Death. No food was to be taken from the cafeteria. No food was to be stored in quarters. There were no unauthorized pregnancies allowed. Period.
She wondered what the Hive would do. Force a woman to have an abortion? The literature said the Hive could not support new children at this time. There were other offences listed, but it was pretty clear. Most offences were death sentences. No trial, no lawyers. Outside the fence was civil unrest, and at times, inside the fence. Rumors were plentiful and early on, there had been a small delegation of lawyers, who’d gone to complain about the living conditions and the summary executions that seemed to be rampant. They had also wanted better food and living conditions as well as freedom to come and go from the refugee camp.
The lawyers had been taken to the administrative tent and had never been seen again. Tilly thought perhaps they were disposed of. No loud or squeaky wheels here. The rules also said that no more than four people could congregate at one time. No large crowds were allowed. Children were to be supervised at all times. It was strange, since moving in, Tilly hadn’t seen many children, at least not the very very young. She looked up when Megan came into the sleeping area.
“Hey Meg, have you noticed that there aren’t any small children, like there was when we first got here? And there aren’t any older people either. Where did they go?” Tilly asked. Megan had a towel on her head, drying her short dark locks as well. Both women had opted to cut their hair short. It was easier when they worked.
“Now that you mention it, I remember there were a lot of deaths, early on, when it started getting cold at night. But then when they started construction on the Hive, I don’t think I remember many of the older people around. Some, but not a lot. You think they got sick?” She asked, pausing in front of Tilly.
“I don’t know.” Tilly said.
“This is an unauthorized subject; further discussion will cease.” An announcement came over the intercom. Both women cringed. They’d found out that their rooms were monitored. Megan had said it was more like a prison here, and Tilly thought she was too right. Though they could talk about most anything, mentioning the administration or criticizing the Hive or its rules and regulations would bring an announcement.
“Sorry.” Both women said at once. There was no reply and Tilly looked at Megan and mouthed the words, later. They could whisper their concerns, and big brother couldn’t hear them. Any negative talk about the Hive was quashed.
“Hey, they got books in. I picked up a couple.” Tilly changed the subject to something safe.
“Oh, really? God, I’d love to read something.” Megan breathed happily.
“They opened the library this morning. We can check out what we want. We can keep them up to a week but have to take them back and return or recheck them out. They’ve got a pretty good selection.” When they spoke, they tried to say positive things out loud, masking their discontent.
“What did you get?” Megan asked, sitting beside Tilly on her bed.
“I got Dragon’s Fortune, by Stefany White, Outlander, by Diana Gabaldon and a Tom Clancy novel. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.” Tilly said.
“I’ll try Dragon’s Fortune first. How about you?”
“Outlander. I like the writer and I’ve read her series before. They have all the books there, so I figured I’d start there. Maybe read the Tom Clancy one after. Red Storm Rising.”
Both women turned when their door slid open and a tall man slipped in. He was slender and lanky but had a toughness about him, all the same. He had sharp cheekbones and dark brown eyes. He was actually clean shaven, which was a surprise. Most men sported beards these days. He was in yellow coveralls, but there was no number stitched to his outfit. He was a newbee. That was what new arrivals were called.
“You lost?” Megan asked, peeking around the corner of the short wall.
The young man grinned and Tilly grinned back. He had a pleasant smile and she’d not seen a lot of those here. This place seemed to suck the joy from a person. She had hope that things would get better, because outside the fence, things were getting worse.
“No, just got assigned to this apartment. I’m surprised I’m bunking with women, though.” He held up his black numbering. 120220.
“Well, come on in.” Tilly said.
“Thanks, I’m Ian Dent. I got here a few days ago and have been down in medical. I guess they had to clear me.” He smiled, walking over. He looked over into the empty chamber that held the bed and laid his things down.
“Hi Ian, I’m Megan Arya and this is Tilly Planter. Where are you coming from?” Megan asked.
“I’m from here. They closed down Topeka, I was caught inside the city. I’d been heading over to the tractor feed store to pick up some supplies. Then I’d have been on my way home. I ran into a roadblock. They said no one was coming in or out of Topeka. I tried to tell them I needed to get home, but they weren’t listening. Me and a bunch of people ended up here. We all spent the last couple of days in medical. Don’t know why, I’m fine.” He shrugged.
“I don’t know why either.” Tilly shrugged.
“What the hell is this place. It’s crazy, reminds me of a prison.” Ian said, shaking his head. Tilly held a finger up to her lips, but too late.
&nbs
p; “That is an unauthorized statement. Further discussion will cease.” The voice said over the intercom. Megan had placed a hand over Ian’s mouth and whispered something to him, his eyes growing wide.
“Sorry. I’m new here.” He said, his voice cracking.
Nothing else came over the intercom. The three stood looking awkwardly at each other.
“We’re on an even day. If you want to go take a shower, you can. It’s a two-minute shower, so make it quick.” Tilly smiled. Ian smiled back, but his mouth trembled a bit, like he wanted to say something. Megan grabbed his arm and shook her head.
“Okay.” Ian said.
“Once you’re done, we’ll go over the rules with you. Don’t worry, we’ll help you settle in.” Megan said in an overly cheerful voice, her face didn’t reflect it, however. Ian nodded and got his towel.
“Soap and such are in your locker.” Tilly helped.
“Thanks.” Ian said and disappeared.
“Let me comb your hair, Megan, it looks like a rat’s nest.” Tilly said. That was their way of talking and not being overheard.
“Christ, it looks like they are pulling people off the streets now.” Tilly whispered.
“Yeah, now I know why they made this place so big. It wasn’t built for just refugees. Are they going to put the whole city in here?” Megan whispered harshly.
“They can’t, there isn’t enough room.” Tilly said.
“I heard a rumor they were building another Hive. Bigger than this one.”
“That’s crazy. This thing is ginormous. Why? Why would they do this? Are things that bad on the outside?” Tilly said, her voice rising.
Megan laid a hand on her arm, holding a finger to her lips. Tilly cringed. Sometimes, she got too excited.
“They won’t let us have any news, only what they tell us, which isn’t anything. No newspapers, no TV, nothing.” Megan whispered, and Tilly saw the tears shimmering on Megan’s lashes.