Humanity Gone: Facade of Order (6 page)

             
Another gunshot burst within the barn, and the door acquires a new splintered hole.

             
Think Carter... think. The horses neigh even louder in the adjacent stall in response to the shot.

             
My eyes find the opposite wall the stall shares with the horses. That's it. I dive to the other side of the stall. It looks water damaged and nearly rotten. The wood isn't very thick either. I lift my leg and forcibly kick into the wood. My foot goes straight through. I hit it over and over until there's a hole large enough for me to slip through.

             
I turn my head to David. He seems to understand the gist of my plan.

             
“I bet he's pretty focused on your door for now. So, on the count of three, we both kick open our doors. I slap the horses out of the stable and fire blindly towards the loft. That should give you enough time to find him and take him out.”

             
“What about the horses? Won't they get hurt?” A young voice says from the recesses of David's stall. I look through the hole I made at a young girl who has joined in on the plan. She was right, and I knew that.

             
“Sweetheart, I need you to pray for them.” David says. Another shot. A few splinters fly against his cheek. He doesn't flinch. We need to do this now.

             
“But I don't believe in God, sir.” she says calmly back. I look at her, half in horror, half in wonder. She couldn't have been older than seven. It was rare enough to find someone her age. This isn't right-

             
BANG. Another hole appears next to David. This isn't the time to worry about this.

             
“Okay, you and everyone else get as far back as you can,” I shout to the girl and the workers who are probably already as far back as they can be. “We open the doors in three...two...”

             
I kick open the door and fire my pistol in the air. The horses take off out of the barn, struggling through the towers of hay bales. Several shots ring out from the second floor and the flash gives away his position. I blindly shoot up into the rafters towards the bursts of light. I am a terrible shot at this distance. I turn to the other stable.

             
“David, do you see...?”

             
A single shot emits from beside me. It finds its target. The New American soldier falls from the rafters headfirst. His face slams into the front corner of the tractor, but I turn away before I see the worst of it. His body makes a sickening thud as it finally finds the ground.

             
That is the last gunshot of the day. David yells clear and the workers, mostly young teenagers run out of the barn. David walks up beside me with his hand over the gash on this arm. Blood trickles down his arm, over the gun, and onto the floor.

             
“Let's get you patched up, David.”

*  *  *

              An hour later, we have the whole mess nearly sorted out. I stop the bleeding on the last wounded New American. We show them a mercy they have not shown us.

             
I glance around the farm as the sun reaches the middle of the sky. Ryan said we lost one man in the beginning. He was shot in the head. One of my staff said he must have died instantly. About fifteen were wounded, but I expect that all of them should pull through okay.

             
Thirty-two New Americans were dead on the field. Some seem to have fled. We took three prisoners, including the one who I just stitched up. After we get all we need from the farm we will probably just leave them here tied up. We don't have room to take prisoners. I pull myself up to my feet and begin towards the field. Among the gardens are the two horses I released. They both look okay. Ryan walks up beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder briefly. Across his cheek is a streak of blood. I assume it was not his own. He too looks at the horses in the distance.

             
“Beautiful aren't they. We give them a few better meals and they will be great help. It's so hard to find horses who survived the first few winters. I sent a few of the workers who were familiar with them to bring them back to the pasture. I don't wanna lose them.”

             
I turn to Ryan. He smiles slightly.

             
“One loss is still too many. But we did well today, Carter. You did well,” he says and then walks away to some of the other men.

             
Several of the vehicles were brought onto the farm and I take a seat in the passenger's side of the nearest one and leave the door open while my legs hang out on the grass. I reach down into my bag and pull out a water bottle to take a big drink. The first all day. It was hell out here.

             
I watch the movement of people outside the barn. People moving dead bodies. People helping live ones. Workers of all ages grasping newly received food and water. Even nearly six years after the plague, moments like this still feel surreal. I never expected to be on a battlefield or shooting guns.

             
Or helping to kill.

             
The sound of a horse neighing stirs me from my thought, and I turn to the right. One of the horses is being guided back to the barn. It is nearly all white and truly does look magnificent reflecting the summer sun. A bare set of legs moves quietly beside the horse and guides it past me.

             
“Thanks for bringing it back.”

             
The person's legs freeze and the horse stops too. The feet stride towards the front of the horse.

             
A gentle breeze blows her hair out first and then a face emerges from behind the horse's mane.

             
I freeze and the water bottle falls from my hands.

             
The hair is blonder than I remember. But still red.

             
Her skin is darker than I remember. But still flawless.

             
Her eyes are exactly the same hazel green.

             
“Carter?”

             
She lets go of the reigns and jumps into my arms. I don't know what to say.

             
Jocelyn is alive. 

Chapter 8: Jocelyn

              “Carter. My God,” I cry as my arms squeeze around Carter's neck even tighter. “Carter.”

             
Grabbing my sides, he gives a relieved laugh as he spins me in a circle and then sets me back down to my feet. I lean back from him and tilt my chin up to look into his eyes. I had imagined them for the past five years, but here they were - right in front of mine. I take one final hug and step back. My left hand reaches behind me and grabs Angel's reign. Even in all my happiness I don't want to go running after her again.

             
I can't believe Carter is here. I thought he was gone. I wrap my arm around the horse's head and stroke her mane. I don't take my eyes off of Carter, and we both seem to hold dumb smiles on our faces for a few moments. My words finally break the silence.

             
“Where have you been? Are you okay? What are you doing here? How long have you been free? Have you seen the twins?” I finally calm down for a second. “I'm sorry Carter, too many questions.”

             
“That's okay. I'm okay. How have you been holding out here?” he asks. I didn't want to talk about me. We walk back towards the barn. I pull Angel along with us.

             
“Not too bad, I guess. They keep us working most of the day. Food is meager, and they don't put up with any talking back. It took me a few years, but I learned that if I just do as they asked it will be okay.” I had a few bruises and swollen faces to claim over the past few years, but I managed. A few times I saw President Matthews; he was the most cruel. They treated us like slaves, but things never got as far as they did at the Sanctuary. The thought of that motel still gave me nightmares occasionally, and it was even Carter who saw the worst of it.

             
“I've been around this farm the majority of the past three years. The first two they moved us around a lot, but then they realized it made more sense to isolate us to one location. In the winter, they bussed us further south and we continued to work. As long as we stayed strong in the fields - we would persist. However, a few of my friends became tired... sick.” I stop for a second as I close the door to the stable with Angel now inside. I can feel my hand shake.

             
“I had to bury a few that they had believed to be unprofitable to keep working. They took them beside a ditch and shot them in the head.” I feel the tears gathering in my eyes  Tears I held in for months because I never wanted them to see me weak. Showing weakness was too dangerous. I shut the stable and hold onto Carter's arm again. Now, I am safe.

             
Safe against Carter. It seemed silly to still hold onto him this much. We had barely a few months together at the cabin.

             
And only that one night alone.

             
I knew there was a good chance things would not be the same, but I wanted to hold onto the dream as long as possible. I can tell he doesn't seem to touch me the same way. It's shocking that I can even still remember it. I let go of his arm as we make our way out of the barn. He wants to tell me something. I can feel it. Not yet though.

             
“Have you heard anything about the twins?” I ask. He shakes his head.

             
“I asked everyone about you, Caitlyn, and Sara. No one knew anything,” Carter says. I haven't seen them since the helicopters either. Caitlyn couldn't have managed by herself in the woods, and who knows what they would have done with Sara. I think they would be seventeen now; it's hard to imagine. Hopefully we will see them again, but probably not in this life.

             
Over the next few hours we sit alongside the barn as the rest of the Carter's friends, the Resistance he says, gathers up supplies and fills the trucks. It was a little unsettling to see someone else now take all of the food we worked so hard to collect. Someone seems to always be taking from us.

             
Carter and I talk about everything from the past five years. I tell him how after we were separated, I was given the choice by one of my captors to go to their “capital” and live with him. I knew why the soldier's wanted me to go there, but I would go to hell before I let one of them lay a finger on me. After I spit in his face, my answer was pretty clear. I was chained along with others my age and they moved us from farm to farm to strip the land. Occasionally they held us at an abandoned prison for a few days at a time before redistributing us. A small group of the men and women I worked with stuck together in those early years. There were a few instances where some could have made a run for it, but we stayed with the group. Over time, several of them had been moved to different locations and no one in that original group was with me anymore at the Mill. I spent most of my time alone. Bottling up everything that has happened since the plague has been difficult to cope with, and it's taken a tole. Sometimes I think if I met that girl who left the city so many years ago I would not even recognize her.

             
Carter told me about his time in the mines and his escape and all about his new leader Ryan. He seems like an okay guy. But then-so did Saul. So did some of the New American's who owned us. I don't trust anyone in charge. I have no reason to trust any of them. I'll put some hope into this “Resistance” because Carter is there.

             
Carter hands me a slice of the apple in his hand and finally tells me what I know he kept inside.

             
“Listen, Jocelyn. I thought you were dead. I turned over every single rock those first few years. Then I moved on.” He pauses. “I'm with someone.”             
              “Good for you,” I lie. I spent the past few years hiding my emotions so I could do it another couple of minutes. “I'm happy for you. What we had was like forever ago. What's her name?”

             
“Paige.” he says. “I will introduce you when we get back tonight.”

             
“Great,” leaks from my mouth. I turn away for a second and look up into the sun. Tears gather in my eyes, but I keep them from falling. 

             
“I'm sorry Jocelyn. Are you okay?” he answers. I turn back.

             
“I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be fine?” I force a smile and place my head on his shoulder.

             
“I'll still always be here, you know.” he says.

             
“And I will always be here for you.” I look back up at him. I may have even fooled him that I am fine. I almost fool myself.

             
He was the hope I held onto everyday these past years. Finding Carter, and maybe, just maybe, having some resemblance of that family again was all that mattered. That last hope was shattered apart.

             
Why God? Why couldn't I even have this?

             
Because you don't deserve it.

             
No, I don't believe that.

             
Yes, I do.

             
No. Please stop. I'm not alone anymore.