

### The

### Great Mother

Copyright 2014 Beth Reason

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be copied or resold in whole or in part, either for commercial or non-commercial use. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author!

Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

About the Author

More Books by Beth Reason
Chapter 1

The world roared back to life.

One minute she was still hovering in the shell-shocked haze of numbness and fog, and the next there was a clear, loud, almost familiar noise. Her brain heard it, then heard it again. A signal was sent from her internal command center, the first time that had happened in well over a month. "Listen!" her brain screamed. "Wake up and listen to that!"

So she did. She listened. She stopped moving the feet she didn't recognize as hers on the empty roadway and listened. She strained. She held her breath and hoped. A faint cry could be heard, a sad, thin mewling. And just like that, the world started again. Blood coursed through her veins. She could feel her feet pound on the pavement, was conscious of her body racing towards the noise. She pumped her arms to give herself more speed. She had to get there. It was the only thing that mattered.

The crying grew louder. She rounded a curve in the road and her tired body had to slow. Weeks of improper food and sleep left her weak, her lungs burning and begging for a break. She leaned on a fence post and doubled over, fighting the urge to throw up. Would she have anything _to_ throw up? Had she even eaten that day? She had absolutely no idea.

The wail began anew and she looked up, wiping the sweat from her brow. The noise was coming from a barn, the door slowly waving back and forth in the breeze. It wasn't a baby. It wasn't a person. No human made that kind of noise. It was clearly just some animal. Some dumb, stupid animal, and she had to choke back bitter tears.

"God damn you!" she screamed across the barnyard.

The animal moaned again and she swiped the tears from her eyes. She should move on. She should keep walking. Where the hell was she, anyway? She looked around, really looked around for the first time since...when? She was in front of a farm. It wasn't a familiar place, but it wasn't exactly unfamiliar, either. With the red wash on the large, classic barn, and a two story white farm house, it could have represented any of the dozens of small farms in the area. She looked around and couldn't see any road signs from where she stood. She could be anywhere.

The animal's noises grew more frantic. Whatever it was heard her and was begging for her attentions. She looked across the overgrown field to the barn. The animal sounded so desperate. She sat on the fence and twisted, bringing her legs over, then hopped off into the field. As she neared the barn the familiar smell of rot washed over her with the breeze and she turned and crouched low to the ground, covering her mouth and trying to hold back the bile. No wonder the animal was screaming. He was stuck in there with something dead. She'd scream, too.

She pulled her shirt up over her nose and stood, steeling herself against what she might find. No, not might. What she _knew_ she would find. There would be something dead, at least one something. It was a barn, so odds were good it would also be large. Large, dead and rotting. The flies would be buzzing. The flesh would be falling off. The puddle of gore underneath would be moving with maggots and worms and rats. She swallowed hard and forced herself forward.

The great barn door creaked. She placed her hand on it and simply stared for a minute. Was that really her hand? It was caked with dirt. There was a muddy swipe where she had just run it through her tears. And blood. She was sure that was blood under the broken nails. Was that really her hand? When was the last time she washed?

Another bleat, this time tinged with excitement and urgency. The animal inside knew she was close. She pressed her lips together to keep as much smell and nastiness out as possible and pulled the door the rest of the way open. The humid odor slammed into her, welcoming her with the all too familiar wall of death her automaton self had met over and over. She turned from the barn and ran around the corner, needing the wind to blow directly into her face, to clean her lungs. She gulped the fresh air and willed her legs to stop shaking. The animal in the barn wailed a constant plea, and with a hand on the side of the barn for support, she worked her way around to the back, hoping to find another way in.

There was a back door, a push style one that didn't appear locked. "Hold on," she yelled to the panicked animal. She braced herself and heaved, sliding the door open so easily that she stumbled. As soon as it was open, the bleating was very loud, right near her. She squinted in the dark until she could make out stalls. She assumed she'd find a horse. Instead, she found a small bull, young, thin, and scared. He looked at her with big eyes and something inside finally cracked. With a sob wrenched from deep within, she lurched forward and threw her arms around the excited, terrified animal.

Something was alive. Something under her arms was breathing. Something was moving and making noise and had a heartbeat. Something else lived. And that something else was licking off the salty tears that tumbled down her face.

Wind swirled through the large barn from one side to the other, taking the smell of rotted death away from her. After pulling some hay close to the little bull, she looked around to assess. The barn was definitely new. Several pens stood completely fresh, with neither animal nor hay. Construction materials were stacked in a corner. The floor under her feet had minimal wear. She took a tentative step away from the bull and he started to bleat again around the hay he ravenously chewed.

"Don't worry. I'm just looking around," she said. It occurred to her as she carefully stepped forward that she couldn't remember the last time she talked to anyone.

"Anything," she corrected. A bull was not a person.

There was a familiar buzzing coming from the other end of the barn. She pulled her shirt up over her mouth and nose again and wondered what she'd find. It was a cow. Or a bull? She frowned. She wasn't a farmer, how in the hell should she know? It was a huge, rotting animal a few stalls down from her little bull.

Her bull?

_Yes_ , she told herself. _My bull_. She looked around and knew she either had to get the rotting animal out of there, or get the bull somewhere safe. How could she get the rotten carcass out? She walked back to the bull. He still chomped the hay like he hadn't eaten in weeks. Maybe he hadn't. When had she?

She supposed the easiest thing would be to take the bull away from the cow. She had no idea how to do that. And where would she even take him, anyway? She wasn't a farmer, but didn't bulls need barns? They did. She was sure of it. She glanced out the door up towards the farm house. Turning back to the bull, she slipped her back pack off and placed it in the corner of his stall. "I'm going to go check out the house. If it's shit, we're not staying." She hadn't even realized she was going to make a plan until the words popped out. It felt right to be deciding. It felt powerful. It felt whole. She patted the bull on the rump as she passed and walked toward the house.

Upwind from the barn, she couldn't smell anything but damp earth and wet leaves. Away from the snarfling noises of the bull wolfing down the hay, and the buzz of the flies around the rotten cow, she couldn't hear anything, either. There were no signs of life in the farmhouse. But there were also no signs of death. She walked up the steps of the porch and stopped at the door. It was locked, but like the barn, also looked new. The white of the house was vinyl siding made to look like classic white wash. The doorknob was shiny. She opened the screen and the spring didn't even squeal in rusty protest. She lifted her hand to knock and then stopped.

Should she knock?

Her knuckles waited for her to make up her mind. It was ridiculous. If anyone was alive, they would have taken care of the bull. But she'd never once in her life entered someone else's house without knocking. Her mama raised her better than that. If anyone was alive she'd have heard them by now. Farmers all had guns and warned people to "git" if they got too close, didn't they?

Years of habit forced her hand before she even realized she had made up her mind. The raps instantly felt silly as they echoed in the silent land. This was not the world she knew, she reminded herself. She tried the shiny doorknob, once again noticing her dirty state, even more apparent against the pristine newness of the brass. It was locked. She stepped back and let the screen bang shut. She didn't know exactly where she was, but she knew the general area. She'd been raised nearby; if not in that particular town, then in one very similar. She couldn't possibly have wandered all that far. If she had to bet on it, she'd place her money on the back door being unlocked. She told herself not to be disappointed as she walked around the corner of the house on the wrap around porch. At the back door, she tried the knob and smiled to herself as it easily turned.

She pushed the door open and stood just outside. "Hello?" she called. She had to be sure she wouldn't be shot. She waited for the echoes of her voice to die down. "I'm coming in your house," she called, taking a step forward. When she was met with nothing but her own fading voice, she stepped in further. "I'm in now. I'm not armed. I don't want to hurt anyone, I'm just looking around." Nothing but dust motes stirred in the tomb-like home. She felt something relax a little inside.

The breeze kicked up and a brown leaf rolled past her across the floor. She turned and shut the door, then inhaled deeply. She smelled paint. She smelled plaster. She smelled new plastic and fresh wood. But she did not smell death. She gave the room a good look. It was a large kitchen. The appliances were sparkling. The faucet in the sink glimmered in the afternoon sun from the window. There were labeled boxes on the counters and one cupboard was open, showing stacks of glasses and plates. Someone had been moving in.

She walked around the center island of the kitchen. A new house. She had never lived in a new house before. She idly poked in one of the open boxes labeled "pots and pans" written in magic marker. The pans inside were also new. Shiny. No signs of scorching on the bottoms, no signs of use. New. It was all new.

She walked into the next room, a dining room area. It wasn't as bright, and she automatically flicked on the light switch. The lights came on. It took her three steps before she stopped and turned around. The lights came on. The lights still worked. She looked at the lamp, her mind needing more reassurance. The lights still worked. She had just assumed that would all be done, like everything else. She turned and went back into the kitchen with purpose. That light switch worked, too. She reached over and twisted the handle on the tap. The water ran clear and clean.

With an excitement she hadn't felt in forever, she raced back to the dining room and looked around. It was a large, central room, with four rooms and a little hallway branching off in different directions. There was the kitchen, a den area, and two small rooms she thought looked like home office spaces. The lamps that had bulbs all lit up as she raced through and tried them. Lights! She didn't know if she'd even checked the lights anywhere else as she had wandered. Her conscious brain just assumed they stopped working.

She stopped with the thought. Had she even tried to turn on the lights anywhere else? Had she even slept in a house? She had no idea how long she wandered around. The last clear memory she had was getting up from the final grave she dug and telling herself she had to leave. She had to. She had to get up or she'd join the rest. And then, she didn't really remember anything. How long ago was that?

There was a tv set up in the den area. She walked to it and pressed a button. It came on, but nothing she did brought up any channels. She didn't even know if it was hooked up to cable or not. She shrugged. It was worth a try. She went down a little hall and found a bathroom and another door. When was the last time she peed in a toilet? She went simply for the familiar novelty. As she stood to flush, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and stopped.

Who the hell was that? It certainly wasn't her. The face was different. Filthy. Thin. Gaunt. Haunted. She leaned forward, a macabre fascination at the stranger staring back at her growing. She made faces and watched. She could feel her cheeks lift, could feel her lips stretch across her teeth. It was her. The stranger was her. And yet... She sighed. Maybe a good washing was what she needed. There was time for that later.

She went to the other door in the hall and found it was a small linen closet with another door at the back. When she opened that one and flicked on the lights, she was pleasantly surprised to find a very nice looking stair case leading into a well lit basement. At the bottom of the stairs, she found herself in a large, open, half-finished basement. There was wood paneling on the walls, a pool table in the corner, and another bathroom. A room was blocked out in wood framing and half-walled, and it was clear whoever was building the house was planning on having another usable floor, not simply a basement. The drywall, buckets of putty, and paint to complete the job were piled neatly against the wall by a saw, saw horses, and other tools of the trade. The ceiling was dropped and low and she felt like she was in some secret cave, a comfy hideout.

Satisfied and intrigued with what she'd seen so far, she made her way back up to the first floor, then continued up the wide staircase to the second. As her hand gripped a deep, wood banister, she realized that whoever was building this house had money. The top floor yielded a master bedroom, another bathroom, and two small bedrooms. Aside from the very basics of furniture in the master bedroom, the only other room with anything in it at all was a room with an empty crib. She stood over the crib and stared into its emptiness. There was no bedding, and the mattress still had its store plastic and price sticker. There were bags from stores in the corner, new items, new clothes, new toys and little blue booties. New and so tiny and forgotten.

She picked a bib off the top of one of the bags. The tag said it was from a high end baby store. She ran the soft terry cloth over her cheek and closed her eyes against the sudden slash of pain. This house was supposed to be someone's life. This house was supposed to be someone's beginning. The farm was supposed to be this baby's future. Was he ever even born?

She put the bib back in the bag with reverence, as if the ghost of someone who probably didn't even get a chance to exist was watching. She trailed her hand over the warm golden wood as she passed the crib. At least he died somewhere else. At least it was only his things that stared back at her. She would never forget the one body of a baby she buried. She would never forget the way the dead little toddler watched as she wrapped her up and put her in the ground. She shuddered and pulled the door closed as she stepped in the hall, shutting out the memories with the ghosts.

She made her way back to the den and sat heavily on the plastic covered couch. It was new. It was all so new. No one lived there, they never got the chance. No one died there, they never marred the possibilities with their stench. It was new, it was clean, cleaner than her. She sat there for nearly an hour, simply taking it all in, trying to piece together the last month. Or was it a month an a half? It couldn't have been much more than that because there were still some trees with leaves, even if they were deep orange and ready to fall. She knew she walked away. And then kept walking. Days were blurred into days and she couldn't even remember the basics. What did she do at night? What did she eat? Where did she go during the day? There was a pervasive numbness that clouded all memories until the bull called to her. "Wake up," he had said. "Wake up and come find me."

She was awake. She was awake in a new house. She was awake in a new body and a new, silent world. She was awake in a new life. The decision to stay was already made. All she had to do was figure out where she was. And how to get the cow carcass out of the barn. Oh, and how to get food. And to wash, definitely wash. And to get clothes. And winter was coming.

Once awake, her mind churned. Instead of the overwhelming sorrow and pain at what was lost, she began to feel the power and possibility of what she had now. She got up off the couch and looked around the house. Her house. For good or bad, she'd stay. She'd regroup. She'd figure out the new life fate forced upon her. She had a house and a bull. She took in a deep, shaky breath. It was a start.

Chapter 2

She was in an old town in New Hampshire named Arlington. It wasn't that far from where she began her mindless wanderings. Across a state line, but close in both geography and culture. It was a small town, and in the weeks that followed her decision to settle there, she discovered it was an empty one. The first few days in her new home spent riding a bicycle she found up and down the country roads, stopping at every house, even if she did smell death and hear flies buzzing. She knocked patiently on every door, no matter how much it made her gag. She checked every barn for animals, and found nothing but blackened death.

She quickly found the center of town. They'd have called it "Downtown" and been very proud. A row of older storefronts lined one side, about ten buildings long. The other side had municipal buildings, a library and a combination fire and police station. There was also a small gazebo with a sign in front of a flower bed that proudly claimed the Ladies Garden Club of Arlington was responsible for the begonias. The street light at the one main intersection rolled through its paces, uselessly directing the leaves that swirled in the breeze.

The town was quiet. There wasn't a soul to be seen. The park bench was empty. The stores were locked, their "closed" signs flipped in the window. The flag over the library flapped and cracked. And there were actually a few pigeons strutting near the gas station that stood at the beginning of the business row.

She wandered around, randomly calling, getting more and more comfortable with her echo being the only response. As time went, she began to accept the aloneness. She knew that someone was out there somewhere. She made it. Someone else had to have as well. Her bull made it. She named him Phil. If she and Phil lived, then there were more.

She cleaned the rotting cow out of Phil's barn the first day. It took her until well after dark to pull the body away after tying it to a lawn mower. She first had to figure out how to move the lawn mower. And then how to tie the body in a way that pulled instead of ripped. And then how to drag it far enough out to field where it wouldn't be a problem. And then how to find her way back to the barn in the dark. And then how to deal with the gore. And then how to hose away the guts.

And, and, and.

That one task started her life of "and". Every little task seemed to take far more than she thought it would. But, she stuck with it. She did the steps, no matter how draining they were, and Phil was much happier for it. Most importantly, she found out she could do it. One thing. One step. Make a list and just do them in order. One step at a time, and she could make it.

She stood in front of the store. The town had two, a small convenience store attached to the gas station, and a larger one that looked like it carried general groceries. She stood in front of the grocery store and considered her options. The front was locked, as were the rest of the buildings, and a quick check let her know she couldn't try and get in the back door because the old building clung to the banks of a river. She needed food. What few canned items were found in a box in her kitchen were already gone. Besides, she had made a list of supplies she would need to get her through winter. She had to stock up. It was getting colder and colder and soon she wouldn't have any choice. If she was going to make it, she needed to start acting.

Seeing no alternative, she knew she'd have to break in. She'd never "broken in" to anyplace her whole life, and once again had a task she didn't know how to accomplish in front of her. She supposed she'd just have to break the glass, and then smacked her forehead. "That's why it's called 'breaking in', moron," she chided herself as she assessed the glass.

She didn't want to get cut. The very last thing she needed was to impale herself on shards of glass and bleed to death right when she finally had a will to live again. She decided the safest way would be to find something to smash the glass with. After looking up and down the street, she chose a rock from the Ladies Garden Club display. Gripping it tightly, she hauled back and gave the glass a solid whack. It surprised her that the very first thunk shattered the glass. It surprised her even more when she found herself in a panic, looking around to see if she was in trouble.

Her racing heart made her laugh out loud. Who was going to catch her? The pigeons? She carefully reached in and felt along the door frame for the latch. She unlocked the door and pulled it open, then stepped gingerly over the glass.

She had never been in a store when it was closed. The closest she came was her three day job as a cashier at a KMart when she was sixteen. They used to dim the lights at night when the registers closed and lock out customers, but there was always a night work crew working and she hadn't been alone. Her new house had been interesting to explore. New. Exciting. Enticing. It had just stood there waiting for her to enter. However, the store was different. It was almost creepy. She looked down the aisles and imagined shoppers, mothers stopping in for weekly groceries, old men squinting at packages wondering if that was the right can of beans their wives wanted, young men pretending to shop while scanning for an easy date.

She stood in the doorway a long time before she got her nerve up to face the ghosts. The noise of her feet crunching the broken glass beneath them anchored her to the present. She took a deep breath. "Let's get the lights on. We'll get the lights on and start shopping and it will be fine." She half wished she'd brought Phil along for moral support. He was easy to lead on a rope as long as she didn't walk too fast. Scanning the walls around her, she found a panel of switches and flipped them on one by one. The florescent bulbs flickered as they warmed up and lit the store row by row. The last switch filled the store with soft, cheesy music. She considered shutting that off again, but found it all way less creepy with the muzak playing. The noise and lights chased away the ghosts and made the experience normal. Familiar. She walked over to the cart corral and began her shopping.

It wasn't until she was heading for the door with a full cart, humming along to the instrumental version of a pop song, that she stopped to ask herself how in the hell she was going to get the food home on a bike. She'd need better transportation. It never occurred to her to take someone's car. She never owned her own car, and the grand theft charges of "before" seemed to form her earlier decision to explore on bicycle. She laughed at herself again. _Stupid girl_. She left the groceries just inside the door and rode her bike down the road towards houses. She'd have to get a car. _No, a truck_ , she corrected. She could haul a lot more in a truck.

It turned out she was pickier than she thought. After investigating seven trucks that didn't pass her standards, she finally found one she liked. It was old, plain, and, best of all, automatic. She'd never learned stick. It also showed a nearly full tank of gas. Now, to start it. She ran her hand slowly over her chin as she stared at the house at the end of the driveway. She'd have to go in and get the keys. She could smell a faint haze of death, and was tempted to move on. But it was getting dark. She'd need to get back, get her groceries, get home and feed Phil before he thought he was abandoned again...

"Stop being a baby," she ordered herself. She forced her feet to move towards the house, her pep talk helping calm the terror inside. "You've already seen dead people. It's not stealing, they're dead. They can't take a truck with them. It's not like they're Egyptian pharaohs or something." She wasn't even to the door when she heard the buzzing flies. "You got this." She swallowed hard, pulled her shirt over her mouth, and tried the door. It opened with ease and she wondered if she'd ever get used to that smell. It was everywhere and she really thought she should probably be better at handling it by then.

The lights in the house were on. There was a static noise from the tv. The people died in the living room, wads of tissues, a bottle of cold medicine, and a bucket, no doubt for vomit, surrounding their blackened, rotting corpses not ten feet from the door. She almost lost it right there. Frantically she glanced around the entrance for a key rack, a table, a hutch the family obviously used to throw their mail and keys on. Something. She put her arm up and pressed her face into the crook of her elbow, her eyes beginning to water. _There!_ On a side table next to the couch sat the keys. She counted to three, then raced in, snatched the keys, then turned and ran out the door, slamming it hard behind her. She was shaking when she tried to put the keys in the door of the truck, but she did it. Once again, she did it.

It took a few minutes in the cab for her to familiarize herself with the truck. She had to adjust the seat. The man had been huge, and her feet couldn't reach the pedals until she found the proper lever. She adjusted the mirror. She turned on the wipers instead of the lights. But she eventually got it. She put the truck in drive and made her way back to the store. A little jerkily, and she stopped at the damn light and sat there a full minute before she asked herself what she was doing and drove through.

She loaded up her groceries, then looked at the empty truck bed. It seemed like a waste to have all that extra space and not use it. Besides, she'd certainly eat the food. It would be much easier if she could have her own store in her house. She spent the next hour hauling boxes of food from the aisles to the truck bed. When it was full and she was sore and it was dark and she was tired, she sat on the tailgate to catch her breath and felt a bit of pride in her chest. She would need food, and lots of it. The store certainly had more, and there was plenty of room in her huge house. She made a plan and it felt great to start to think ahead.

The next week passed in a blur for her, but a good blur. It wasn't the same numbness she'd wandered through before she found her new home. It was a blur of hard work, long days and short nights, but, mostly, the bone deep satisfaction of accomplishment. She was getting it done. She was working for herself. She was making her own life happen.

At least, that's what she told herself at night, when she lay in the bed she had brought to the basement exhausted. That's what she said to calm her racing mind and convince her aching body it was all worth it. She was no longer afraid of being alone. She was afraid of not being ready. Sometime during the week, when she was toiling to clean out the grocery store and set herself up with enough food for the winter, it dawned on her that this might be forever.

Maybe it was the night she ate through two cans of tuna, a jar of peaches, and two bags of chips, utterly ravenous after the exertions of the day. Maybe the pile of empty containers filling two trash bags hammered it home. Maybe the fact that she'd already had to consolidate three nearly empty cardboard cases was the spark she needed to really accept her situation.

Whatever it was that brought it about, the realization that the new life was permanent became a constant driving force. She went through food faster than she thought she would. An entire store seemed like so much. It filled up the two rooms in the top level of the house. But she was plowing through it and she knew that the rooms would be emptier far sooner than she'd like. The panic was like a tiger nipping at her heels. She knew that if she didn't plan, if she didn't get more, if she didn't do more, than she'd slow down enough and the tiger would catch up.

While she wanted to believe someone would save her, she'd seen nothing, heard nothing to make that a viable hope. They were always taught that the government was there in emergencies, that there were police and firemen and ambulances with EMTs to help in any situation. Yet the fire trucks sat gathering dust. The police station was dark and unmanned. The ambulances were parked and had been for months. She knew she could not rely on help. She had to act if she wanted to get herself and Phil through the first winter.

When the gas tank on the truck was almost empty, she had her second epiphany. Food was not her only concern. She sat huddled under a blanket in Phil's stall after that thought rocked her. He was a warm body and she couldn't be alone. "We need more than food, buddy." Her shaking hand stroked him as her head filled with the hundreds, thousands of things they still needed.

It wasn't just about supplies. If that were the case, she probably wouldn't have been so terrified. Supplies she could get. Just like the groceries, they'd be tiring, but manageable. She'd need to do that, go raiding for other items. She'd make a list of everything she wanted, then go around and find it. Warm clothes for winter, extra hay for Phil, band aids and Bengay and all that could be gathered from different stores. The frosty mornings told her it would get more and more difficult as the days passed, but she could do it.

What made her shake and need the comfort of Phil was the knowledge that she would also be responsible for everything. Cooking, cleaning, sewing, repairing...those were easy. But what about getting gas? She had no idea how to siphon gas from the big holding tanks. At the moment the pumps would work, and she could probably bash the keys on the registers enough to get the gas flowing. But what happened next? The lights would stop working eventually. Even if they were automated, it would be winter soon. The trees would fall on lines. Storms would snap the poles. There would be a day without electricity. The lights would go off and the world would get dark and stay dark.

What about running water? Would that go when the electricity did? A pipe could freeze. She had no clue how to fix that. And even if they made it through the whole winter with electricity and running water, she didn't know how to run a snow plow. They'd be stuck. And what if there was a fire? Or she tripped and fell down the stairs? How was she supposed to set her own broken bones?

The "stuff" was the easy part. Getting "stuff", she could handle. It was the rest of the future looming that terrified her. She didn't know enough to make it. She once watched a tv show on "preppers". They were people that planned for the world to end. They made shelters underground and hoarded supplies. They practiced home medicine and hunted and killed their food.

Would she have to hunt? Panic rolled through her in electrified waves. If she wanted meat, of course she'd have to hunt. She'd have to kill things. She'd have to peel the skin off and scoop the guts out. If she wanted a steak, she'd have to find another Phil and tear him apart.

"I'm not a prepper! I don't know what the hell I'm doing!" She threw her arms around Phil as he placidly munched his hay. She let herself bawl, not for her old life. She already truly accepted that life was gone. She bawled for all the sudden fears of her new one. When she was completely spent, she lay next to Phil. The good, soul-deep cry left her calmer and as she listened to the strong, steady, grounding heartbeat of her only friend, she began to put things into boxes in her mind that she could handle.

The next morning she got in the truck and headed to the gas station. She needed to figure out how to make the pumps work, and that was all there was to it. That was the first item on the new list. It didn't take too long fiddling with the register before "pump 1 ready" flashed across the digital display. She threw her fist in the air and hooted. What she'd do once the station lost electricity, she didn't know. As she was filling the truck, a display of red gas cans in the window of the station made her smack her head. She left the nozzle locked to keep filling, then went back in and grabbed four cans. She spent the next hour going back and forth, gathering more empty cans and filling them until she was out of empties and the "sale" display on the pump read $5,273.98. She laughed and laughed as she hoisted the filled cans into the bed of the truck.

"Okay, girlie. That's one thing off the list." She knew she'd need more gas eventually. But, this would get her through the winter, and the station would still be there in the spring. For now, she needed to open one mental box at a time, deal with the contents, then shut the lid and move on. If she didn't, she'd be swamped under the sheer enormity of the life ahead.

So she went about her days doing just that. She wrote a list of things she needed to gather first. Since she had gas, stronger muscles every day, and roads clear of snow, it was the time to gather. At night, she would read the survival books she'd raided from that awful trip to the library. If the empty store was creepy, the silent library bordered on horrifying. She was sure she was followed into the stacks, down the narrow rows, around the whole old building. She couldn't shake the vibe and once she found the section containing the survival guides, she grabbed as many as she could fit into her backpack and ran out of there. She got the shakes whenever she thought about it, but was glad she stayed firm and got the books. While they scared her with hundreds of horrible possible deaths, they told her how to avoid them, too. She had nightmares, but it was necessary. Those books amazed her. They taught everything from how to purify water, to how to interact in a post apocalyptic society.

She thought about that part a lot. They all spoke of apocalyptic scenarios. She talked to Phil about it, ask his opinion. Was it an apocalypse? Was that what happened? There was no one around her. They all got those gaping, blackened sores and died. Some of the books talked about natural disasters. Some of them talked about nuclear war. There was an incredibly fun to read silly one that spoke of zombies and how to prepare for them that had shockingly sound advice, even if the premise was absurd. There was one that insisted the "world will end" from biological warfare.

"That happened, didn't it?" she asked, running a grooming brush through Phil's short coat. He seemed to really like the brushing, and as his horns looked just a little bigger every day, she thought keeping him calm and mellow as often as possible was probably a good idea. Besides, it soothed her just as much, those evening chats with her pal. "We're in an apocalypse. Do you call it _an_ apocalypse, or _the_ apocalypse? I don't suppose we can really have more than one."

She said the words, but she didn't accept them. She said the words simply to have something to say when she ran out of things to tell Phil she collected and did through the day. She said the words, but the notion was still an abstract. It was still only a plot for a movie, not something that happened in real life. It had to be. If it wasn't, there would be no hope.

Her life took on a rigid structure. Before, in her old life, the one with people and rules, she found the idea of a scheduled existence ghastly. Follow someone else's arbitrary time table? No thanks. But with so much to do, in so many directions, in so little time, her mind automatically regimented her days. She'd get up early. She'd eat, then feed Phil in a different stall while she mucked his. She'd head out to find and gather whatever was on the list for the day. She'd be back up to her house by lunch with the first load, grab a bite, check on Phil, then spend the afternoon unloading and sorting her bounty. She'd give Phil his brush down, top off his trough, then head in and cook her own meal. After dinner she forced herself to read at least two chapters in the books and take notes before she'd let herself have a luxurious shower before bed. She'd go to sleep and fight the nightmares before rising early the next day to do it again.

And she liked it. She found she really liked the structure. It didn't feel oppressive like it always had before. It felt solid. Firm. It felt like a lifeline, as if without the schedule, she would just stop as everyone else had. It made her feel useful and needed and important. Even if she was only doing it all for herself and one little bull, she was still doing something. She was no longer numb.

Her lists changed constantly. She'd make a plan for the week, then read something in one of the survival books that resonated and end up changing the order of things, or canceling ideas all together. She added things she could never have thought of on her own, and realized the folly of some of the things she did. She felt proud when books confirmed some instincts she had, only to be dashed with self disappointment when she'd turn the page and read about something she damn well should have known.

"I can't think of everything," she told Phil, brushing him with more force than was necessary to work out her frustrations. "These books want me to know everything all at once! I'm trying, baby. I'm trying." She gave him his feed and patted his rump and went to take notes on harvesting corn.

According to the books, the fields she had to the back side of her farm were corn and wheat. The wheat looked almost completely lost, ruined by time and wind. The books said she should have harvested that a month before. She was going to try to find the stalks with wheat on them still, but knew her better bet was the corn that was dried on the ears still in the fields. There was too much for one person, but the book was right. She had to get whatever food she could anytime she had the opportunity. It would snow very soon, and then all of that food would be ruined.

She got her own meal of soup and decided to sit on the porch. If she went out through the front door, she overlooked a wide driveway that led into a road and down the hill into the town center. She could see the whole place, and had intentionally left the lights on in the buildings below to give her a sense of people, a feeling that she wasn't alone. She sipped her soup and looked at the glowing village and felt calm again. She liked to pretend that she was in a castle, looking over her people. The farmhouse was a princess tower, and below were her loyal subjects. She wasn't sitting on the porch because she really was alone, she was simply above them. They were down there living their lives and she was lording over all. It made her smile and feel the warmth of the soup down deep.

She never made a list that night. She never took notes. When the evening faded to full dark and the warmth of her soup was only a memory in the chilly breeze, she went to take her shower and spent nearly an hour afterwards simply staring in the mirror at herself. Before, she never gave much thought to her life, to where she was going, to what she would be someday. She had thought about herself, but in general terms. She never liked the way she looked. She never liked the thoughts she had. She never liked how hard it was to talk to people, or how clumsy she felt around anyone else. She hated that the basics came so easy to some, while she had a hard time remembering not to daydream while people talked on and on. She didn't spend much time thinking about spirituality, and really had no idea if she believed in God, or many gods, or the power of crystals. She never even considered whether she wanted children, or a husband, or a career. In short, she never gave much thought to who she was, and didn't like the little she knew.

She stared in the mirror at the unrecognizable face. She had a fleeting thought about looking like her father, but shut that right down, as she always did when thoughts of the past wanted to move in. She made different expressions and moved her head this way and that, looking at her face from every angle. She had a new small scar on her lip, the result of a careless run-in with a post in the barn that totally jumped out at her. Her cheeks were far sharper than they had ever been. She'd always been round and soft. Now she was almost angular. If she sucked in her cheeks, she looked very much like a snooty model.

Her eyes were very different, she concluded. They made her look old. Old and tired. She wondered if other people out there looked the same in the mirror now, looked completely different from their old selves. Her hair was the same, and that was about it. A little stringy, maybe, because she half-assed the shampooing, but definitely the same. She frowned. The hair didn't fit. It didn't fit the person in the mirror anymore. She opened the drawer in the bathroom cabinet and took out the scissors she had unpacked and put away. She stared at the stranger in the mirror, then watched as the mirror hand lifted the scissors to the stringy mirror locks and began cutting. A tiny familiar voice in her head yelled at her to stop. _Stop! What would your mother say if she could see you chop off all that pretty hair?_ The snip of the scissors cut that voice off. There was nothing her mother could say anymore.

By the time she was done chopping off the hair, the person in the mirror didn't feel so much like a stranger. She never knew who she was before. And while she didn't really know who she was now, she did know that whoever walked around in her body in the past was gone. The hair was just the final goodbye. Whoever controlled her arms and legs, whoever dreamed silly thoughts with her brain, whoever used her hands to doodle stupid drawings and write pointlessly inane diary entries, was gone. She died. She died with the rest of them. The woman in the mirror, the one looking back at her with old and tired eyes, and spiky hair that wouldn't get in the way, and sharp cheek bones, and the scar from hard work, that was the person left behind. That was who had to go through the new life. That was her, and the moment she accepted that fact, a lightness replaced the uncomfortable heaviness and feeling of loss inside. The old her died. The new her was just beginning to live.

She swept the hair off the floor into a dust pan, and, in one easy toss, threw the rest of her old self away.

Chapter 3

As a child, she had always liked the snow. There was a mystical beauty to the silence that fell over the world with the gentle white blanket. _Hush_ , it said. _Sleep_ , it said. _There will be a nice warm spring for you after your much deserved rest_ , it promised. As a child, she couldn't wait to romp and roll in a fresh fall of snow. She'd wake and race to get on her coat and boots and run out the door before her mother's eyes had opened fully from the first morning coffee. After playing, she would sit at the window and watch the flakes fall fresh on her footprints in the snow while she warmed up with cocoa and felt the icy tingle of her cold cheeks melt away.

But she was not a child. She did not have her hands wrapped around cocoa. She was an adult responsible for her entire micro universe in thigh-deep snow that would just not stop falling, struggling to keep a path to the barn cleared so she could help her one friend in the world stay alive. It was only January. They had plenty of winter left, and already she would crawl into bed and sob every night, hoping for a break, one warm break. And every morning she would get up and race upstairs, hoping to see the sun, a real sun, a warm sun beat back the endless white monster. And every morning she'd choke on the bitter disappointment and steel herself against another miserable day.

It was a bad winter, worse than any she could remember. Whether it truly was or not would probably have been up for debate. Mood played a huge factor in survival, as the books all said over and over, and it honestly could have been her mood that made the weather seem worse than it really was. It didn't snow _every_ day. No, on those days without fresh flakes, the wind from hell itself would kick up and undo all the shoveling from the day before.

Every day she had to get to Phil. He seemed antsy from the snow as well, even though his life barely changed in his safe, dry barn. He was fed on a more irregular schedule, and that was it for his personal winter hardships. Sometimes she got bitter that he didn't have to help with the shoveling. Or wished he could offer more than a random snort or lowing for conversation. Sometimes at the end of shoveling, after she'd fed and talked to Phil, she'd start back towards the house and wish she had something else to do, anything that would keep her outside her prison. The need to get in out of the bitter cold always drove her back inside, where she'd try and fill her day.

The survival guides said it was critical to do things, to not sit idle. She did everything she could think of to keep busy. She read until her eyes hurt. She made list after list in the notebooks. She played music on the stereo, even though she didn't particularly care for the CDs she found in the boxes of personal items the people never got to unpack. She tore pages out of the romance novels she found in a box upstairs and used the paper to make origami swans. After about fifty of them, she wished she knew how to make something besides swans and made a mental note to go back to the library and find some craft books. She spent hours cooking different meals with her supplies, randomly picking out cans and challenging herself to make it work together like they did on the cooking shows she used to watch.

In a nutshell, she was going out of her mind with boredom.

Phil got annoyed with her. She went to the barn far more than was necessary, even if it did mean screaming muscles from more shoveling. She could tell when he was getting annoyed with her because he'd snort and stamp and toss his head when she tried to brush him for the third time in a day. "Fine," she said, throwing the brush in the hay. "You don't have to tell me twice. I know when I've overstayed my welcome!" She stormed out and slammed the barn door behind her. The nerve!

She stomped her feet off inside and took off her coat. She couldn't blame Phil. She was highly annoyed with her own company, too. She looked around the kitchen. She'd already eaten lunch and the canned ham and peas casserole she had concocted wasn't sitting well. Cooking was out. She walked through to the den. Her stack of torn pages sat on the coffee table next to the portable stereo. The thought of folding one more damn swan while listening to stupid country music made her spam-laden stomach roil even more. She had to think of something else to do.

Her eyes went to the tv. She had only tried it once, gotten nowhere, and then written it off. She decided to fiddle with it and give it another try. At least it would be something different to do. She walked over and checked the back of the dusty flat screen. It was plugged into the wall, but there was no cable. She opened the tv stand and found a box with a cable company name. She sat down and opened this new treasure. Inside was a cable box and a modem, and she got truly excited.

Two hours later, she was ready to throw the damn tv and cable box out the window. She sat flicking though the channels with the remote. All she got was a neon green number in the top corner of the black screen. Nothing she tried would make it work. She supposed the cable company could simply have stopped working. Perhaps it was not an automated system like the electricity was. The modem was set up but useless. It had a row of green lights on it. Great. A lot of good that did her without a computer.

It was a thought she couldn't shake all the next day. A computer. Why hadn't she thought of that before? She used a computer every single day in her old life. Just when had she cut them out of her life? Was it when all the sites were filled with early, horrible news? Was it when her cell phone just rang and rang no matter who she tried to call? Was it when she no longer got emails back from online friends? Was it when she stood up and walked away from that last grave?

Phil was against the idea. "I'm just going to go down into town," she justified. "They've got that electronics section in the hardware store." Phil chewed his cud and stared at her and she could see the condemnation in his eyes. "I've got the truck and it's got those big tires. I'll just slide down the hill and climb my way back up." Phil snorted. "Come on. Rednecks do it all the time. I'll just put it in low gear and chug my way through it." She finished brushing him. "Fine. You can have you opinions. I think it's a good idea and when I get back, be ready to hear me say 'I told you so'." She made sure his hay was topped off and headed out to the truck. It was late afternoon, but the hardware store was less than a mile away. She'd have plenty of time to get there and back before dark.

She didn't.

She ended up spending a terrifying and cold night stuck in her truck at the bottom of the hill. The truck got down just fine, but she could not get it back up. The tires spun uselessly until she was certain she was buried to the axles. The snow was so deep that she was afraid if she got out, she wouldn't be able to make it back to the truck before it became full dark. So she huddled and waited and wondered if Phil would end up being right after all. The sun broke clear in the morning, and she could see well enough to discover her problem. She had gotten off the track of the road and one tire was in a ditch. It took well over an hour of frustratingly slow digging, but finally she got back on the right path and followed the road up to her barn.

A hot pot of soup and a long bath later, she sat in a fluffy robe and thermal pajamas staring at the laptop she took from the hardware store. There hadn't been much to their electronics section. There were a few laptops, all of them pretty basic, a couple of phones, and a few clock radios. Aside from a small display of a handful of other accessories, that was it for the Arlington technology cache. Maybe if she raided the houses...

But it didn't matter. That would be for later, and only if the laptop didn't work, or wasn't sufficient. She had grabbed the few laptops and the extra batteries they had at the store. She selected the one she wanted and set it up on the coffee table. She hooked in the cable from the modem and plugged the laptop into the wall. She was ready.

Then why couldn't she do it?

It was there, all set up. The little green light labeled "connectivity" on the modem was flashing. There was some kind of signal. The laptop's orange charge light was also glowing, so the cord was good. All signs indicated that she could get the computer working, and that she might have internet. All she had to do was hit the power button.

Her fingers tapped nervously on her lap and she bit her lower lip. While not the first moment of trepidation in this new life, it was certainly feeling like the biggest. This was important. What if she got online and didn't find anyone? What if she didn't get online at all and her isolation was complete? What if she found people but they didn't want anything to do with her, or thought she was stupid for being so desperate, or...

_Stop whining! Just do it_ , her brain commanded. Her hand darted out and hit the power button. The flash screen told her the model of computer. It said it was loading the operating system. She bit at a hangnail while she watched, her stomach in a knot. She had to set up her desktop, which she did with annoyance and impatience. She had forgotten this part of getting a new computer. It was quite some time later when the system was ready to check for an internet connection. She watched the little green waiting bar zip across the screen over and over, anxiety building with each pass.

She couldn't sit still another second and jumped up to pace. She walked to the modem and looked to make sure the cable was still in place and the connectivity light was still flashing. Everything looked fine. She went back to the laptop and glared at the "this may take a few minutes" disclaimer. "Come on you piece of shit!" She threw her hands in the air and snatched her empty mug off the table. She'd make some more coffee and let the computer do its thing. She stood tapping her foot impatiently as the cup spun in the microwave. She only set it for a minute, but that minute felt like days. When it beeped she pulled the cup out so fast the lukewarm coffee splashed on her hand. She hastily dumped in some sugar, then hurried to the den. She stopped dead in her tracks. The bar was gone, the disclaimer had vanished. She sat and leaned forward. Did it work? She clicked on the browser icon. A familiar white screen opened. "Come on," she whispered. A popular website loaded.

She jumped up and gave a holler. She pumped her fist in the air and did a shuffly little happy dance in her stocking feet. The smile on her face was real and stayed for hours. She was online. She was connected to...well, to whatever was left. She pulled the computer onto her lap and settled in to relax with something from her old life she truly missed. She spent the rest of the day trying to navigate the internet. It was full dark by the time her eyes were tired and her spirits were slightly dashed. She decided to leave the computer on, not wanting to lose the connection, and went downstairs to try and sleep. Instead, she stared at the ceiling above her bed and tried to process what she learned through the computer.

It was definitely some illness, a virus. Or bacteria, but most of the sites who had anything about it at all seemed to agree a virus was likely. The first mention she saw on any of the major news sites was only four months ago, that there was a troubling illness in New Mexico that had everyone stumped. That was it. A little news blurb, just a mention and nothing else. She only knew that because a later article mentioned it and had a link. By the time the majority of the media picked up the story, it was far too late. Some nicknamed it "Pandora's Pandemic". That pissed her off. It was just like them, just like them all to take something so serious and try to make it sound catchy, to be the one to coin the phrase that would stick. Pandora's Pandemic? She'd be damned if she'd ever catch herself calling it that.

Most of the news sites stopped updating in September. It happened so damn fast. That knowledge brought her a little comfort, actually. To her in her little bubble, it seemed fast. It felt fast. It was good to know that it wasn't just a twisted observation from someone gone crazy. She didn't see one news site that had updated anything in the last two months at all. And she found a whole lot of malfunctioning sites already. Unlike the seemingly automated utilities, the websites must have taken a lot to keep them going.

She checked her email, both accounts. There was certainly lots of spam, even several sent just the day before. Okay, so some parts of the internet would endure without human intervention. She spent an hour picking through her inbox to see if there was anything important from friends or family. The last personal email she had was from a cousin she barely knew down south. The date said it was sent in mid-October, and she felt a simultaneous thrill of excitement and stab of guilt. It was that email that kept replaying in her mind. It wasn't a personal letter. Her cousin sent it to many people, some names she recognized, most she did not. After giving a brief list of other family members she didn't really know who died, her cousin begged whoever got the email to join her.

The army reopened Fort McPherson in Atlanta and that's where I am. More and more people are being brought in and we've got plenty of food and shelter. We've all been asked to try to find as many of our families as possible for the rebuilding effort. If you get this, please reply and we'll figure out how to get you here.

She tried to conjure up an image of the cousin in her mind. She couldn't. It was probably one of the blond ones she only met a few times at weddings or funerals. Should she reply? She searched herself, deep inside, trying to find a tie, a tug one way or the other. She certainly didn't feel any familial responsibility to do so. If she couldn't even put a name to a face, then the woman had never really been important in her life. She did feel a stab of guilt at that, but it didn't make the sentiment any less true.

The only thing to consider was the offer of a new home. It wasn't the first she read that day about military bases being opened for emergency housing of survivors. Not only was there an official message from the president on every news site, she had many emails containing the same statement.

Did they even still have a president?

The statement began by declaring an official order of martial law, then urged anyone reading it to contact the nearest armed services base, center, or recruitment office immediately. The statement told the readers not to panic, to follow instructions, that the government had control blah blah. And it reiterated the "not panicking" idea several times.

She should contact them?

She should. She had always been...well, if not an active citizen, at least a law-abiding one. She minded her own business. She didn't meddle. She didn't break laws, she didn't buck the system. She didn't vote, but she also didn't get in the way. Her president, the one she didn't vote for who was probably dead, told her it was her responsibility as a citizen to help the rebuilding effort.

Responsibility was a tricky thing. She was responsible for Phil. And herself, once she made the conscious decision to make a life again. The president's words talked about her responsibility to the nation. What nation? She hadn't seen any nation yet. A cousin she barely remembered a thousand miles away was the only nation she knew existed, and even she could be dead. October was months ago. Anything could have happened in three months. The cousin hadn't tried to email her since. One email and then nothing. That didn't seem like the army was trying very hard. There were others. Her cousin said so. Was her responsibility to them? To people at large?

She rolled the idea around in her head while a bitter wind whistled around the house outside, and she slept poorly when she finally drifted off. She had to force herself outside to feed Phil the next morning. She barely said anything to him, her mind still weighing options. By the time she got back inside and was cooking up some cream of wheat for breakfast, she had made up her mind to do some more investigating. If there were people in Atlanta, then there was a good chance there would be people near her. She'd look around, see if she could find some, then go from there.

She spent the next two days investigating. She checked for individual military base sites. They all carried the same presidential letter, though some had newer links to names of survivors. She went to the Fort McPherson site, but it hadn't been updated since the first week in November. She found a naval base about a hundred miles from Arlington that said they were moving to a base in Massachusetts, but when she clicked on that link, she got another frustrating "file not found" error message. Dead link, and she wondered idly if that was some grand internet metaphor.

She couldn't make up her mind on the army, but the snow was falling heavily again outside and she decided that even if she did end up planning on joining some base, she'd have to wait until spring anyway. Instead, she decided to try and look closer at her area. She concentrated on the few local newspapers and tv stations her region used to be very proud to run. Following the advice of the survival books, and the basic format of the army information she'd see, she posted open letters on every one of their forums, and then to any classified section she found. Her message was short, simple, and to the point.

I'm looking for any survivors near Arlington, New Hampshire. I am one person with a cow and a farm. I will check back frequently and hope for a response.

She signed it with the handle "ArlingtonSurvivor", and bookmarked every page where she posted. She planned to keep checking those and the local bases. And then, she logged onto an online game site and blew a whole afternoon on stupid java-based games that were leaps and bounds above folding another damn origami swan.

After feeding and chatting with Phil, she came in and put her own dinner to cook while she refreshed every page she had posted on. She hadn't really expected much to come of it, but, as the survival guides pointed out, doing something was always better than doing nothing. The microwave dinged to let her know the frozen boxed fried chicken was as edible as it would get, and she jumped up to get it, then dropped like a stone back to the couch as a page refreshed.

There was a response.

She blinked. Right next to her post, there was an orange message that said "1 response. Click to view." She blinked again, and the message was still there. She reached her hand out and clicked.

If you read this, download the link and install the chat program at the end of this message. Phone lines in my area are down, no cell service, it'll be quick communication. -NHWolf

She read the brief message over and over, then clicked on the link to download the messaging program. She followed the instructions, getting impatient when it took awhile. NHWolf. He was in NH. Or she, she told herself. It could easily have been a she. Her stomach rumbled and she popped up and ran to the microwave. Over the greasy fried chicken that really had started to get past its prime, she watched the progress bar on the installation screen. When it came time to input a user name and information to begin messaging, she wiped her greasy fingers off on her pants and typed it in, then entered.

"No I do not want to take a tour of the program!" she yelled at the screen when a tutorial window popped up. "Just get me to chat!" She clicked "x" over and over to get through the other bullshit, agreed to the terms of service without reading it, and then finally a chat window popped open. She typed in NHWolf, then sent a simple message. And then it was time for more waiting. She threw her hands in the air. "Always waiting!"

She jumped up to take her plate in the kitchen, and then ran back in case she missed something. Nothing. She went back in the kitchen and washed her one dish, then hurried back to check the screen. Still nothing. She needed a shower. She hadn't taken one in two days. But she didn't want to leave the screen. In the end, she lay on the couch and turned the laptop so she could keep an eye on the screen. It was well past midnight when the friendly little bing rang clear through the dark and quiet house.

NHWolf: Are you still on?

She hurried to answer, blinking the sleep from her eyes.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I'm here.

NHWolf: I meant to be on earlier but we had issues.

ArlingtonSurvivor: We? And what issues?

NHWolf: Yes we. 46 other we. And just basic training issues. Nothing I can't handle.

A bubble of something close to happiness welled inside her. Forty-seven people. There were at least forty seven-other people in the world. She wasn't alone. She really wasn't alone. Forty-seven people! Her smile spread wide as she continued to type.

ArlingtonSurvivor: There are really 46 people with you? This isn't some sick joke?

NHWolf: People? More like animals. But yeah, 46. I take it you really are all alone.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Yes.

NHWolf: Don't ever tell people that.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I was following what the survival books say.

NHWolf: What survival book has ever said to make yourself vulnerable??

ArlingtonSurvivor: They say to clearly state your status and what you might have to offer.

NHWolf: That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Don't ever tell anyone that you're all alone.

ArlingtonSurvivor: ?? You just asked. So I'm supposed to tell you and no one else?

There was no instant answer and she chewed her fingernail, wondering if she lost the connection or said something that made whoever was on the other end of the conversation angry. She opened another browser window and it loaded fine, so she knew she was still connected.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Hello? Still there?

NHWolf: How old are you?

The warnings from her childhood about internet safety reared up inside. Never tell your name, never tell your age, and never, ever tell your location. The very basics, the first things kids learned. Even though they no longer lived in that world, it didn't mean there weren't still predators. She bit her lip thinking of how to respond.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Don't go creepy on me.

NHWolf: If I was a creeper I'd already have you. I know you are alone and I know where you are. If I wanted to, you could have a real problem on your hands already. You telling me your age won't put you in any additional danger. Bad people survived, too. Never forget that.

He was right and she felt her face burn in embarrassment. She made a note to track down all her postings and change them.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Point taken.

NHWolf: You said you have a farm and a cow, right?

ArlingtonSurvivor: A bull. With real big horns. And he's trained, so don't try anything funny.

NHWolf: Har har.

She grinned. It almost felt like the old times, like firing up a chat program after her parents thought she was long asleep. She pulled the afghan around her and settled back into the couch cushions comfortably.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Yes to the farm. It's huge.

NHWolf: What kind of farm?

ArlingtonSurvivor: There was some corn and wheat. But it's new. I don't know what else they were going to do with it. The barn is enormous. Maybe more cows? It wasn't a real working farm yet.

NHWolf: Bodies?

ArlingtonSurvivor: Just a cow. I dragged her off with a tractor.

NHWolf: What's the rest of the town like?

ArlingtonSurvivor: What do you mean? It's a town.

NHWolf: No shit. Really?

ArlingtonSurvivor: You can say what you mean without sarcasm.

NHWolf: I don't know if that's possible.

She sighed, torn between amusement and annoyance.

ArlingtonSurvivor: What specifically do you want to know about the town?

NHWolf: There ya go, Sparky. Size, number of houses, former population estimate, how many grocery stores, clinic? supplies? clothing store? hardware store?......

ArlingtonSurvivor: Oh, so just general knowledge I'll clearly know off the top of my head. Got it.

NHWolf: I always tell people sarcasm is contagious.

She didn't know specifics, but she could see what he was getting at. He was looking for an overall picture of Arlington. Why, she wasn't sure. And why did she keep thinking he was a man? It could have a been a woman. She just got a guy-vibe.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Didn't you JUST get done telling me to keep info to myself?

NHWolf: From everyone but me.

ArlingtonSurvivor: And why should I trust you?

NHWolf: Because I'm not in this for me. I've got no stakes. I'm trying to find a place for these other people.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Well where are you now?

NHWolf: Jackson, about twenty miles north of you.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I know it. It's a pretty big town.

NHWolf: For the area.

ArlingtonSurvivor: What's wrong with staying there?

Again there was a long pause before he answered. She tapped her fingers lightly on the keys waiting for a reply. Jackson was the closest thing to a city for over a hundred miles. It had tons of houses, stores, supplies, a real hospital...it seemed like a very good place to set up a new life.

NHWolf: It's not the town that's the problem, it's the people.

ArlingtonSurvivor: What's wrong with them? Are they sick?

NHWolf: No. Just beat.

ArlingtonSurvivor: ??

NHWolf: God. You really haven't seen anyone else, have you?

ArlingtonSurvivor: No.

NHWolf: Your whole town is gone?

ArlingtonSurvivor: I've been here a couple months or so and haven't seen or heard anyone.

NHWolf: I don't know how to explain it to you.

A heavy dread filled the pit of her stomach. She swallowed a gulp of her coffee and braced herself.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Just tell me what's wrong with them.

NHWolf: They're beat, like I said. Beaten down. Lost. Wandering around like zombies.

ArlingtonSurvivor: You sure they aren't sick?

NHWolf: Look, these people buried or just walked away from everyone they knew. Wives, husbands, kids, sisters and brothers. All rotting somewhere without them.

ArlingtonSurvivor: No shit, Sherlock. We all did.

NHWolf: I didn't mean to piss you off. I'm not putting you down. But you are clearly like me.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Like you how?

NHWolf: Able to shut it off, able to flip that switch. We can still function.

The simple words made her shiver. His words made her feel cold. Less. Inhuman.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I was just like them for a long time, too.

NHWolf: Are you getting defensive?

ArlingtonSurvivor: I'm just saying that it hit everyone like that.

NHWolf: Not me, and I'm not ashamed. If it did hit me like that, then all these people would be dead where I found them.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Conceited much?

NHWolf: A lot. But in this case, it's true. These people are numb and hurting and right now they are beyond thinking and doing for themselves. They need a place.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I think Jackson has more to offer.

NHWolf: For stuff, yeah. But they also need someone to help them.

ArlingtonSurvivor: They've got you.

NHWolf: Sorry it took a minute to reply. I was too busy laughing my ass off. Look, I picked them up and dragged them into a herd so the army couldn't dig their claws in. I'm just keeping the livestock calm until someone else takes over.

She sat back and stared at the words on the screen through tired and bleary eyes. What he meant was that she should take over. She should have them to her town. She should fill the houses below her castle with real people, not just imaginary subjects. Of course that's what he was doing. That's why he wanted to know the situation of the town. That's why he wanted to know about supplies. That's why he wanted to know the number of houses and all the details. He was trying to find a place for the people, and someone willing to step in where he would not.

ArlingtonSurvivor: If you don't care about them, why are you still there?

NHWolf: It's winter. There's nowhere else to go.

ArlingtonSurvivor: So you're just going to foist them off on the first person who'll take them in?

NHWolf: That was the general idea.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Pardon me, but you sound like an asshole.

NHWolf: Yep. So what's your town like?

ArlingtonSurvivor: What makes you think I'm going to take them off your hands?

NHWolf: Several things.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Like what?

NHWolf: First, you went looking for people. You actively sought them out.

ArlingtonSurvivor: You did, too.

NHWolf: No, I just found them. Big difference. I'd be much happier in life if I listened to my gut and took the detour around Jackson. Instead I went right through the damn center and stumbled on them.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Then finders keepers.

NHWolf: .....

ArlingtonSurvivor: You're still there.

NHWolf: Secondly, you listed your location and the facts that you have not only a farm, but a food source.

ArlingtonSurvivor: So?

NHWolf: So you're making it clear that you have a place for people to stay and food for them to eat. If I was a betting man, I'd guess that you've got rooms filled with food to the ceilings.

She frowned. He was a man, he just confirmed that, and a very astute one.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Are you a shrink or something?

NHWolf: You've got to be kidding me. I'm about as far from a shrink as they come. But I do know people. You don't just want to find people, you want to take care of them.

Did she?

ArlingtonSurvivor: Maybe I'm just looking for a roommate.

NHWolf: Ha. And last, but not least, I know you're interested because you haven't told me to fuck off yet. I bet you're sitting in your house looking around and judging whether or not you could fit everyone in there right now, aren't you?

Her frown deepened. She was.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Now I'm SURE you're a creeper.

NHWolf: Oh come on. I can't be making any great revelation here.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I can't be responsible for 47 people!

NHWolf: You wouldn't. Only 46. I can take care of myself.

She ran a hand through her hair. It was absurd. It was all so absurd. Having them move into the town around her was one thing. Telling her to be in charge of them was a different matter entirely. They were adults. They didn't need a babysitter. They were Americans. They didn't need a queen. No matter what scenario played in her head through the lonely nights, there was absolutely no way she could force herself on these people. Did they even ask for it? Did they even know what NHWolf was up to, deciding their fates in the middle of the night?

ArlingtonSurvivor: You know nothing about me. What if I'm a mass murderer with a really clever cover story?

NHWolf: Your cover story isn't clever. Besides, I don't give a damn if you're a serial killer. Have at them. Just take them off my shoulders.

She scoffed out loud and her fingers pounded the keys angrily.

ArlingtonSurvivor: So you'd really gather up all these people and just hand them over to a serial killer?

NHWolf: You're not a serial killer.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I could be.

NHWolf: And I could be a shrink, but I'm not. Let's cut this back and forth. Does your town have room for them?

ArlingtonSurvivor: Of course. It's a town. It used to have a couple thousand. It can take 47.

NHWolf: 46. And what I'm asking is body status.

ArlingtonSurvivor: ??

NHWolf: How many houses are empty?

His meaning sank into her tired brain. He was asking about bodies. How many were without bodies. Shit. How in the hell should she know?

ArlingtonSurvivor: I don't know. Mine. There's gotta be more, right?

NHWolf: You haven't cleaned.

It wasn't a question and she knew she didn't need to answer.

NHWolf: Shit. How big is your barn?

ArlingtonSurvivor: You want people to live in a BARN?

NHWolf: Until you clean out some houses.

ArlingtonSurvivor: My farmhouse is big. People can stay in here.

NHWolf: Holy hell. How old are you really??? Look, you can't have people stay in the same house with you if you're going to be in charge.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Who said I was going to be in charge?

NHWolf: I'm really hoping that you're just tired and that a good night's sleep will let you follow a simple conversation.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Screw you. An hour ago I was all alone in the world and now you're telling me there are 47 people that you seem to want me to bring to my house and be in charge of immediately. Pardon me if I'm a little slow to jump right into the fire!

NHWolf: I won't apologize. Decisions have to be made and either you're the person to make them or you're not.

ArlingtonSurvivor: And I have to make them in five minutes? I didn't see a timer.

NHWolf: There's ALWAYS a timer. Come on. What's it going to be?

ArlingtonSurvivor: I can't take a minute to think about it?

NHWolf: You've already made up your mind you just won't admit it. Stop being a baby and let's move forward.

ArlingtonSurvivor: You are the rudest man on the planet!

NHWolf: Since there aren't many left, you may just be right.

ArlingtonSurvivor: You were waiting for the fuck off, right? Well here it is. Fuck off.

She slammed the enter button and had the urge to throw the laptop across the room. The nerve! The unmitigated nerve of the man! She stood up and stomped to the kitchen. She ignored the bing from the laptop as she scrubbed out her mug. She ignored it again when she put her coat on and shoved her feet into her boots. She needed to get out. She needed the cold of winter to take the angry heat from her cheeks. She needed to see Phil and vent.

Phil knew she was agitated and tried to step away as she angrily dragged the brush through his fur. The thing was, she didn't even understand why she was so angry.

"The first person I talk to in months is an asshole. God. What a cold, unfeeling dick!" The bristles caught on a snarl and she tugged. "He'd just dump them off on anyone."

Was that it? Was it pride? She stopped brushing for a minute and frowned as she mulled that over. Was it really just a matter of pride? The brushing resumed, but, much to Phil's relief, at a much calmer pace as the heat of the moment passed from frantic thoughts to careful consideration.

She had worked very hard to prepare her farm. She worked her fingers to the bone to gather as much as she could by day and then spent many late nights reading anything that would help guide her future. The fact that nothing she did mattered, that he'd have led the people to her no matter what, was kind of a let down. But that wasn't what really pissed her off.

"He was just such an asshole, Phil," she said, tossing the brush away and patting his big neck. That was it right there. She had built up an image in her head of the first contact, the first meeting with another survivor. She assumed there would be tears, happiness, hugs and kisses and rainbows and unicorns. And there wasn't any of that.

There were laughs in their conversation. He had a sarcastic sense of humor that she could appreciate. But there were no other warm fuzzies. There was no kindness, no happiness on his end for finding someone after all this time. He wasn't happy to find her, and that stung. She snorted at the thought and the sudden noise startled Phil. "But I wasn't the first person he found, was I buddy?" She took a deep breath and leaned her head against Phil. "I doubt there were warm fuzzies then, either. He doesn't seem like the warm fuzzy sort, does he?" She shook her head and, after topping off Phil's trough, headed back inside through the dark. After she removed her outer gear she paused on her way to bed to look at the screen of the laptop one more time.

NHWolf: Fuck off, eh? Maybe you've got a backbone after all.

NHWolf: Since it's been like five minutes, I assume you've stomped off in a huff.

She had to snort at that. There was one more message.

NHWolf: Fine. Take your time to think. But while you're doing that, ask yourself the things I've asked you. Yeah I'm rude, but I'm right. You wouldn't have reached out if you didn't want it. Personally I think you're nuts. I think it's insane for you to actually WANT people under foot. You've got a barn, a cow, a nice house, and a proven crop? Keep it. That's my two cents for you. Keep it and guard it and look out for Number One. That's MY advice. That's what I'd do in your shoes. I'll keep checking back to see if you realize we don't wear the same shoes.

Chapter 4

She couldn't clean any houses. After the storm the night before, she stood at the top of her hill and stared across a valley of deep white. There was no way to get down the hill unless she felt like sledding, and there was no way to get back up without trudging. Her truck that was half buried under the thick avalanche off the porch roof wouldn't stand a chance of transporting her through the deep white nasty. The flakes conspired to keep her trapped.

She thought about NHWolf's words all night. She talked it over with Phil for quite some time that morning. Though he didn't have any new insights, she was glad he stood calmly while she talked it through. She mucked his stall and fed him, then trudged back into the house. She decided she'd log back onto the chat program and see if NHWolf was there. He wasn't, so she left an offline message for him.

He was right when he said she was looking for more than just a few new buddies. It irritated her on a deep level, and that, no doubt, had fueled her temper tantrum. But in the wee hours of the morning while she was staring up at the ceiling, unable to get his words out of her head, she had to finally admit that he was right. She _did_ want real people to fill her imaginary kingdom. She spent the next few hours trying to decide how she felt about that.

She had never been in charge before, of anything, really. She had her life, and it was small and contained. It was ordered by necessity, adhering to the confines of the rules of others and the laws of others and the timetables of others. She made little decisions, like what to eat for dinner and which video game to play. And when she thought about it, that was about the total of her power. She called her mother every Friday, on her mother's insistence. She wore the uniform her boss told her to wear and kept her hair in the style the company preferred. When she actually stopped to think about it, her life before left her with absolutely no reason to want to be in charge of anything.

And yet, she did. The longer she thought, the more sure she was about that. She wanted to be in charge. She wanted to lead people. Why? "What in the hell makes me think I can be responsible for lives?" she asked herself as she stared in the mirror after her shower. Phil hadn't been able to answer the question either. She wondered if NHWolf could. Or if he even would if she asked.

She kept checking the computer through the day while she reorganized her supplies for the umpteenth time. She took a notebook with her and made careful inventory lists. Someone in charge would definitely know what they had to offer, she reasoned. Once the supplies were tallied and sorted in the upstairs, she went into the basement, taking the laptop with her, and began taking stock of those supplies. She realized that she had almost no organizational skills whatsoever. She wasn't a pig or a slob, at least she hadn't reverted to her old ways yet. But, she wasn't a neat freak, either. She should be. If she was going to be in charge of people, she should be neat. And tidy. And organized.

She flopped on her bed and looked over her lists. In one of the upstairs rooms she had canned foods, bottled water, and some tools. Why did she have the tools there? In the other room, it was very similar, but also contained medicines and pots. Spare pots. Pots she probably didn't even need. In the basement, she kept the things she liked the most for food items, in case she wanted a snack, and had an odd assortment of tools, jewelry, and camping supplies. By the time the computer binged and let her know NHWolf was online again, she was already fed up with her leadership.

NHWolf: Give it some thought?

ArlingtonSurvivor: I can't do it.

NHWolf: Why not?

ArlingtonSurvivor: Because I have no idea what I'm doing. I can barely take care of myself.

NHWolf: Are you looking for some ego stroking?

She ground her teeth together.

ArlingtonSurvivor: No. I'm not. I'm telling you that I'd be a shitty leader.

NHWolf: Fine. Tell me why.

ArlingtonSurvivor: For one, I have no experience.

NHWolf: You mean you didn't take Post-Apocalyptic Leadership 101?

ArlingtonSurvivor: Har har. And is that what this is? An apocalypse?

NHWolf: Can you think of a better term?

ArlingtonSurvivor: ....no. I guess not.

NHWolf: And we are in a dystopian future only without literal zombies. We just have the walking dead.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Sci-fi fan?

NHWolf: Everyone should be. They were right, now weren't they?

ArlingtonSurvivor: I guess. I didn't give it much thought. Seems scarier now that you pointed it out.

NHWolf: LOL The truth usually does.

ArlingtonSurvivor: An apocalypse.

NHWolf: Technically, I think you'd say "the" apocalypse. I don't think there can be more than one strictly by definition.

ArlingtonSurvivor: That's exactly what I told Phil!

NHWolf: Phil?

ArlingtonSurvivor: My bull.

NHWolf: You named your food?

ArlingtonSurvivor: Phil is NOT food.

NHWolf: What if he has to be?

ArlingtonSurvivor: This is turning into a ridiculous conversation.

NHWolf: Yes. But it started out ridiculous, so...

ArlingtonSurvivor: How did it start out ridiculous?? I said I can't be in charge. You can bring them here and they can set up their own town.

NHWolf: If they could do that, they would have. But they can't, they didn't, and it's going to be a long time before they will.

She sighed heavily. He wasn't understanding.

ArlingtonSurvivor: But that person isn't me.

NHWolf: You want it to be.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I want a lot of things that can't happen!

NHWolf: Why? Just tell me why you can't do it.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Let's start with the fact that I have no idea in hell what I am doing. Let's start there, because that seems to me to be a biggie.

NHWolf: False. You know far more than you think.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Now it's my turn to LOL.

NHWolf: You found a working farm.

ArlingtonSurvivor: By accident.

NHWolf: Was it? Because it was clear, new, had a cow and a working crop.

ArlingtonSurvivor: But I just found it wandering around. It's just where I stopped.

NHWolf: And there's a man here who "stopped" in the middle of the street. He was sitting in someone else's car just waiting.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Waiting for what?

NHWolf: Who the hell knows? People. An ambulance or rescue team. The Army. The president. Someone. Anyone. He was just sitting there. Scared the shit out of me when I walked by. He asked if I was there to help him.

ArlingtonSurvivor: And you were.

NHWolf: NO. No no no. I don't know why I have to keep telling you this. I was NOT there to help him.

He could say whatever he wanted. The fact was, the man NHWolf was talking about wasn't still sitting in a car in the middle of the road waiting for help. Facts were facts. There was more to this NHWolf than he wanted to admit. For some reason, that thought was comforting.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Fine. Have it your way. You didn't help him one little bit.

NHWolf: I didn't. Not if you take a look around this Walmart. THIS is NOT help.

ArlingtonSurvivor: You're talking to me. You're trying to talk me into giving them a home.

NHWolf: I'm trying to talk you into taking them off my hands.

She had no idea what this NHWolf looked like. She had no idea how tall he was, what color his eyes were, how old he might be. And yet, she got a clear picture of an angry little man pounding the keys as he typed that last line.

ArlingtonSurvivor: There are far worse crimes than helping people.

NHWolf: We aren't talking about me. We're talking about you. Stop playing shrink. Apparently that's my job whether I want it or not. I was telling you that you know far more than you think and you turned it around because you didn't feel comfortable with praise. Freud would have a field day with this.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Stop twisting it. I meant what I said. I have no idea what I'm doing.

NHWolf: You do at least on some level. And before you start typing angry, just look at the facts. You found a home, a damn good one. Potentially the best you could have these days. You've got a place set up for the future, for more than your future. You have supplies. You waited until you felt you could handle it before you reached out.

Had she? Was that what took her so long to look? Was he right?

ArlingtonSurvivor: You think you know everything.

NHWolf: I know this: You came looking for them. They need you. You want them. These are facts.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I have no idea how.

NHWolf: You'll learn.

ArlingtonSurvivor: At what cost?

There was a long pause. She put it out there, her deepest fear. What if someone died because of her? What if they looked to her as NHWolf said they would and she let them down? Lord knew she let herself down enough over the years. She chewed her fingernail and watched the cursor on the screen blink, waiting to see his reply.

NHWolf: I'm going to tell you a little story. President Nicholson spent the three days after his first election locked in a hotel room. He did not come out. He refused to speak to anyone, not even his wife. He locked himself in and sat and wallowed. You know why? Because he was fucking terrified. It hit him. He won, and the weight of the country suddenly settled on his shoulders. Do you know what he was doing in that room?

ArlingtonSurvivor: No.

NHWolf: He was crying. He was huddled up and crying. He tore himself to pieces with self-doubt because he was certain, ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN he'd fail people.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Wow. I didn't know that.

NHWolf: No one did. That's why the pres. gets the best PR people. My point is, he had been a sergeant in the marines, then a state representative, and then a senator before he stood for the presidency. He went through Leadership Training 101 and passed with flying colors. And he was STILL terrified. Being in charge IS terrifying. It IS scary. It SHOULD make you pee your pants and cry in the corner. Because you know what it means if it doesn't?

ArlingtonSurvivor: No.

NHWolf: It means you shouldn't be in charge. If you don't care enough for your people to be afraid of letting them down, then another guy should have gotten the job.

She considered his words. He was very good. Very, very good at getting to the heart of the matter. It was entirely unnerving. And yet, there was something calming about it, almost. She didn't need to try and explain.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Is that really true about Nicholson?

NHWolf: Yes.

ArlingtonSurvivor: How do you know?

NHWolf: You want me to talk about your past?

She was going to say she didn't care, when she suddenly realized she did. What would she tell him? That she was a weak-minded worker drone that even she couldn't stand?

ArlingtonSurvivor: Touche.

NHWolf: I feel like we're making progress.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Is my hour on the leather couch done?

NHWolf: Yes. Please pay the receptionist on the way out.

ArlingtonSurvivor: LOL

NHWolf: In all seriousness, these people need help. You want to help. You've got the desire and the conscience.

ArlingtonSurvivor: You don't even know me!

NHWolf: Oh yes I do. You give away a lot more than you realize. Now, when should we expect you?

ArlingtonSurvivor: March?

NHWolf: ...ummmm...

ArlingtonSurvivor: I'm penned in by snow at the top of my hill. My truck's buried.

NHWolf: According to the MapMan website, there's an NH DOT a couple miles away from you. If you could get there, you could get a plow.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I don't know how to drive one.

NHWolf: You'll pick it up quick. Read over a manual tonight. Go for one tomorrow. Take enough supplies to get by if there's bad weather. And a gun.

She gave the words on the glowing screen a wry smile.

ArlingtonSurvivor: You've got this all planned out, don't you?

NHWolf: Someone has to.

ArlingtonSurvivor: What in the hell makes you think I can do this?

NHWolf: Experience. Now, can you get there tomorrow or not?

She loaded up the MapMan site and searched for the NH Department of Transportation like NHWolf said. She found it, and studied the map for a minute. It was about three miles away by the roads, but if the land between was more farm land, then she would probably have just as much luck cutting across fields as the crow flies. She could probably make it there and back in the daylight.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Okay, just looking at the map and I think I can do it in a day. Then what? Plow the road to Jackson?

NHWolf: Get one of the plows with the deep salt bed.

ArlingtonSurvivor: How much salt should I load? That'll take forever for just me.

NHWolf: No, not for salt. For people to sit in.

ArlingtonSurvivor: You want me to take people 20 miles in the winter in the BACK of a truck? You do know those things are open, right?

NHWolf: We'll heap on the blankets.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Is it really so bad that they can't wait until spring?

NHWolf: I haven't lied yet so I won't start now. Could they wait til spring? Probably. Should they? No.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Why?

NHWolf: The longer they sit in this hell hole, the harder it will be to bring them out. Morale is in the toilet. There are a few that only eat because they're forced to. A young lady already lost a baby, and one of the punks keeps giving her the eye.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Oh no! Is she okay?

NHWolf: NO SHE'S NOT FUCKING OKAY!!

She physically winced at his words.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I guess that was a dumb question.

NHWolf: None of these people are okay. If they were okay I never would have found them. Those who ARE okay found a way to start a new life and left these poor saps behind. They are not okay. None of them are okay. And they will not be okay until someone better than me can come in and MAKE them okay. Are you getting it yet??

She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She wasn't going to get angry. He was desperate. They were desperate. That's what he'd been trying to convey all along.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Do you think I could clear it with a plow then get a bus or something? I don't want them sitting in the open back of a damn snow plow.

NHWolf: If you think that's necessary. I think it's a waste of gas...

ArlingtonSurvivor: I still don't know where I'll put them.

NHWolf: Barn.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Yeah, because nothing says "happy new life" like sleeping next to cow shit!

NHWolf: Is it heated?

ArlingtonSurvivor: Yes.

NHWolf: We're in a Walmart. We'll get sleeping bags and pillows ready. Just get them there. Get them there, feed them, WASH THEM, and we'll take it from there.

ArlingtonSurvivor: I'm glad you're certain this will work. That makes one of us.

NHWolf: Are you heading for the plow in the morning?

ArlingtonSurvivor: Yes. I'll plan on getting the plow tomorrow and getting up here. I'll let you know when I'm back.

NHWolf: Sounds like a plan. I'll leave this program open. Just blip me when you're back. Hopefully you won't need it, but in case you do...good luck.

Chapter 5

Her legs were jello. Ice cold jello, just like her mother would serve on holidays. They jiggled and tingled and felt like they'd give at any moment. Trudging through snow up to her thighs was taking everything she had. At least she had sunshine. Even though it was blinding off the snow, it offered some sort of comfort. She pulled her leg up and forced it forward. A few more steps and she'd be in a shallow spot the wind created just for her. She just had to make it through one more brutally deep drift.

She broke through the drift and into the bliss of only a couple inches of snow and bent over, trying to catch her breath. She looked up at the sun and determined it was about noon. She could see the green roof of the NHDOT station. It was on a road through woods, and for that, she was grateful. There would be much less snow under the trees and that meant easier travel. It had taken hours to come less than two miles, if her judgment of distance was right. She pulled a bottle of water from her pack and took a deep swig, then loosened the scarf around her throat. Walking through snow, even in the bitter cold of January, was sweaty work.

She was cinching her pack shut again when she heard the snap of a twig. She whirled around and felt a shiver of fear race up her spine as she stared into the eyes of a large buck. He returned her stare for a few seconds before turning on his haunches and bounding away. She instantly told herself how silly she was for being scared of a stupid deer, then froze. A deer. A deer! She turned around and looked for him on the horizon, but he wasn't in view. She trudged towards where she had seen him, afraid he was a mirage. The prints in the snow told her differently. It was the first large wild animal she had seen alive in months and it gave her a feeling of hope. Her bull lived. A deer lived. There would be more. She couldn't stop the smile that ached through her frozen cheeks. There were more.

She entered the woods to trudge her way to the DOT with renewed purpose. As she hoped, the snow wasn't very deep on the forest floor. Her numb feet were clumsy and she tripped over several roots along the way. But overall, she greatly preferred that to the thigh deep evilness of icy snow. She made good time, and it wasn't long before she could see glimpses of bright orange through the trees. In no time, she was standing in the large NHDOT lot, looking up at the huge trucks in wonder and dread. They had never looked that big when they were on the road passing by. They never looked that huge when someone else had been driving them. She took a deep breath and told herself she could figure it out. She'd read a tutorial on how to start and drive trucks like this. She had seven to choose from. If she ground out the gears on one, she could just hop into another. No biggie. She gulped hard and stepped forward.

The one she wanted was shiny and new. No doubt it had cost the town of Arlington a pretty penny less than a year before. It was going to be the star of the fleet, for certain. She tried the door, and it was locked. She looked to the small station building. A little smashy-smash and she was in, searching for the right set of keys on the big peg board. Most of the keys were labeled with yellowed and cracked sticky labels, the old punch type she used to play with as a kid. There was one key that was hastily labeled with marker on a bit of masking tape, like they didn't yet have time to punch out a real label. She decided to try that one first. It was a good guess, and she was soon sitting behind the very large wheel of the very large and very new truck. Her backpack was on the seat next to her and she was strapped in. All she had to do was turn the key and follow the directions she'd read. She repeated them over and over to herself as she fiddled with the mirrors and touched the buttons. She could do this. She took a deep breath and turned the key.

It was over an hour before she could really get out of the parking lot going the right direction with the plow down, not up, and the transmission finally in second gear. Her nerves had passed the point of being stretched tight and she felt sore and frustrated. Her legs were burning from thawing in the cabin's surprisingly good heat, and the wet denim was starting to chafe. But she was doing it. Hating every second, but doing it. At the intersection she turned up the road that would lead her home. She got the truck home. She got it in her yard. There was a somewhat straight path now carved the whole way, and she still had about half a tank of gas. With shaking hands, she turned the key and shut her new beast down, then flopped her arms across the steering wheel and placed her head down to catch her breath. She did it.

As she got out, she could hear Phil lowing. She was cold, she was suddenly exhausted, and she was wet. But he needed her. She turned away from the house and went to feed and calm Phil. By the time she got inside she didn't know if she had it in her to make something to eat. She grabbed a can of peas, opened it, and snagged a spoon. She'd just eat them right out of the can. She flopped on the couch and wriggled out of the wet pants. Her legs were bright red and blotchy and they still stung, but she couldn't see any signs of real damage. She tucked them under herself, logged onto the chat program on the laptop, and ate her cold peas.

ArlingtonSurvivor: Got one truck.

NHWolf: Good. Get sleep and I'll see you in the morning.

She let out a small, sharp laugh. Just like that, eh? She shook her head and was about to tell him she wasn't ready. Her fingers hovered over the keys, unable to type in the simple words. Holy hell, she thought. I'm actually going to do this.

Her mind was too full to think. A million half-formed thoughts and terrified questions swarmed like bees inside, and she couldn't focus on a single thought long enough to see it through. She stared blankly at the screen, and let her spoon dangle from her limp hand. Holy hell.

She knew she needed sleep, but couldn't make herself get up and go to bed. She needed a shower. She could smell the funk of the day inside the sweaty coat and hat cling to her. She couldn't make herself care. She needed to clean up the peas that she'd spilled at some point and wash the spoon. People would be there tomorrow and she needed to be presentable. And all she could do was sit there and be overwhelmed.

The chime of the big clock in the den signaled that it was ten. She looked at the clock, then at the spilled peas, and jumped into action. She only had a few hours to be ready. People were coming. Holy hell, they were really coming! She raced around the house, straightening for company. She cleaned up the peas and took a quick shower. She glanced at her bed, and while her body told her she should climb in and get rest, her mind kicked into overdrive and she knew that sleep wouldn't come. She needed to be ready. She was going to have forty-seven other people.

Knowing they were coming and knowing what to do to prepare were two different things. She looked around her basement, then ran up to the food stores in the top floor. She had lists, but hadn't gotten to reorganize. Would they expect everything neat and tidy? She ran a hand through her hair and stood in front of the nonsensical hodgepodge. She threw her hands up and closed the door. She'd deal with that later. She'd just tell them what her mother used to tell company. "Stay out of the bedrooms, if you would." That would do it. She'd have to organize later. She went back downstairs and chewed her bottom lip. What next?

Food. She walked into the kitchen and looked in the cupboards. All the plates and cups were neatly stacked, twelve each. Twelve? She'd need forty eight! She grabbed a notebook and started making a list. They were in a Walmart. They'd just grab what she would need. The planning was making her feel better. As she listed off all the things she still needed to get for their immediate needs, she felt more and more in control.

At midnight she'd made a huge list and thought of everything she could. Dishes, silverware, cups, bedding, soap, clothing...the list went on and on. Pages. But, she figured with forty eight sets of hands, it would be light work to grab what they'd need. When she could think of nothing else, she set the list aside and glanced at the clock. She needed to sleep, but her mind was still whirling. She grabbed the laptop and decided to see if she could find a depot for buses in the area. When she found that they were too far out of the way to reach tomorrow, she jotted down the basic directions anyway. Maybe NHWolf knew of others. The clock said it was close to one a.m., and still her mind churned. She tapped her fingers idly on the keyboard. It occurred to her that she hadn't checked her bulletin board postings since she'd started talking to NHWolf, and she logged into them one by one. Her heart constricted in her chest when she saw that there was another response to one of her postings.

Help! I looked at a map and I saw I'm only like 32 miles from you. Mom and dad and my brothers are dead. I'm running out of food. If you're a grown up and can get me come help. I can hunt small game. I won't give you trouble I promise. I'm at 48 Chester Rd. in Waterford. HELP.

The date said it was posted a few days before. "Shit!" she yelled into the quiet house. After sending a brief reply, she quickly typed the address into the MapMan site and wrote the directions down. She raced downstairs and stuffed her backpack full of water and snacks, then put on warms clothes. She was out the door in minutes. She hastily crammed Phil's trough full of hay and made sure the barn door was shut tight before firing up the plow and heading down the hill.

She was a good five miles up the main highway before it dawned on her that she wasn't having to think about driving the big rig. She was just...doing it. She gave a shaky laugh. Nothing like a little motivation to hammer home a lesson. She wasn't going fast, but she'd get there. The grinding of the plow on the road and the rolling mountain of snow in the headlights became a centering focus for her.

She went through another small town, one she had actually been to before. She passed a dark diner she remembered eating in with her father once. Other things around her looked familiar. She'd passed through this town several times in her life. It made her feel more in control. She realized for the first time how well she really knew the area. "I got this," she said to herself.

After another few miles, she came upon several snow-covered lumps in the middle of the road ahead and slowed to a stop. She peered out of the windshield, frowning. "What the hell is that?" Did she lose the road? She backed up and put the truck in park, then hopped out into the night. She crouched and dug her hands into the packed snow. Under the tire marks her hands definitely hit pavement. She was on the road alright. She walked forward and pushed her way to one of the lumps. She was wiping the snow off when it dawned on her. Cars. They were cars. She stepped back and just stared at them. In the glow from the headlights she could make out several lumps in odd positions. In her mind, she imagined what the scene would look like without snow.

"I'm the first responder on the scene of an accident!" she said out loud. Her laughter died in her throat with the full weight of the implications. "Oh. Shit." She looked around. She could maybe go around. There was a ditch, by the looks of the dip in the top of the snow. She didn't want to get stuck. She couldn't get stuck. There was a kid who needed her. Not adults being babies, a kid. She absolutely could not risk getting stuck. She took a deep breath and hoisted herself back into the driver's seat. She couldn't get stuck and that meant one thing: she'd have to plow right through.

She gunned the engine and slammed it in gear. She lurched forward and pushed through, bracing herself for impact. She heard the crunching more than felt it and watched as the car popped out through the snow and rolled almost gracefully up the snow bank she was making and off to the side, out of the way. She hit the next car and it dragged for a few seconds before shifting to the side. It wasn't as "smashy" as she was expecting. In fact, it was barely "smashy" at all. The plow almost guided the cars out of the way, and the thought was comical to her tired mind. Three cars out of the way and the path was cleared. It was all so simple, almost as if they weren't ever there. She didn't let herself wonder if there were still people inside.

She rumbled to the big intersection in Jackson. She'd have to take a right to get to Waterford. It would be about thirteen miles or so up into the hills to the north. The lights of Jackson were mostly on. She looked at the glow in the night. There was a dark area to the left. Maybe a winter storm knocked out the electricity. She saw the Walmart a little ways down the road if she went straight. That's where she'd go tomorrow. It was surrounded by gas stations, and she glanced to her gauge. It was getting low. She had three credit cards in her backpack, ones she had found worked in the pumps at Arlington. The road up to Waterford looked very dark. She hesitated for a second before shutting off her blinker and going forward. She'd gas up and see if there was any movement in the Walmart, maybe let them know for sure she'd be there in the morning. A look at the clock on the dash said that was approaching faster than she wanted.

She maneuvered into the gas station that shared a large parking lot with the Walmart and other small businesses. The pumps were still on and she hopped out and began filling her beast with diesel. She locked the pump to continue filling while she stepped toward the station itself to check for gas containers. She smashed her way in with her elbow and grabbed four gas containers. She turned around and almost had a heart attack. A man with a gun stood in the doorway and she froze.

"Are...are you NHWolf?" she stammered, holding her hands up as best as she could with the gas cans.

He held the gun trained on her another second before lowering it and taking a step forward, his boots crunching on the broken glass. "Just Wolf. You aren't supposed to be here until the morning."

She smiled in spite of her racing heart. "Technically it _is_ morning."

Wolf stood and assessed her in the harsh florescent lighting of the gas station. He'd heard the rumble of the engine while he was outside having a smoke and saw the truck sit at the lights for two solid minutes before it headed his way. He watched her turn into the gas station and made his way over. She had been completely oblivious to him standing right there, and that scared him. It was clear she had no training in even the basics of self defense. Wolf had felt that she was naive before, when they were chatting. As she blithely hopped out and hummed while pumping her gas, he became sure of it. He only approached with the gun to try and scare a little sense into her.

And then she turned around and he got his first look, and Wolf couldn't help the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. She was young, he'd guess twenty, maybe twenty-two. Young and grinning like a fool instead of dropping for cover. A gun was on her, aimed for a kill shot, and she stood stupidly smiling at him. Sighing to himself, he put the gun in the holster inside his jacket and stepped forward to help her get more gas cans. He grabbed four and went past her out the broken door. The truck was full and he moved the nozzle to the first of the cans. "Why are you here so early?"

She stared at him for a second before stepping over the threshold of the doorway. "I'm on my way to Waterford."

"Waterford?"

She set her gas cans down by the pump and opened them. Wolf was done filling the first, so she took it and had the next in line before Wolf could react. Good, he thought. At least she saw a job and did it. That would be crucial. Maybe she had potential.

"Yes. I got another response to one of my bulletin board postings."

"How many?"

She looked up at him and gave a half smile. "You get right to the point, don't you?" He gave a little shrug. "One. A kid."

Wolf quirked an eyebrow. "You sure it's a kid?"

She nodded. "Yes. He didn't say his age, but he did ask for a grown-up to help and promised he wouldn't give trouble. I think it's a boy."

"Why?"

She pulled the next can out of line and set up another. She capped the can and wiped it off with one of the courtesy paper towels from the holder by the pump while she spoke. Wolf noted her efficiency and was pleased. "I don't know. Just the way he wrote. Plus he said he could hunt small game."

"That's sexist."

She stopped and stood up, looking at him with a curious expression. "I guess it is," she said after a moment and Wolf wondered why it seemed that she was truly giving one little comment a lot of thought. "Sexist or not, that's the vibe I got."

"Vibe?"

"Yes. Vibes. Everyone has a vibe."

It was on the tip of his tongue to ask what "vibe" he had, but he thought better of asking. "So you're playing hero."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Isn't that exactly what you wanted me to do?"

He shook his head. "Nope. It's what you wanted to do." She clammed up, and he filled the rest of the cans wondering about the sudden awkward silence. She was an odd one, that was certain. When they finished filling the cans, they loaded them into the bed of the truck.

"Well, I'll be back as soon as I can," she said when the job was done.

He gave a nod. "We'll just swing in and let Gus know." Without another word he walked to the passenger's side and opened the door.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I figured it would be quicker for us to drive across the lot."

She sighed. "Are you coming with me?"

"Yep."

She stood waiting for more. When he just gave her a pointed look, she shook her head and walked to the driver's side. It was embarrassing to have to struggle into the driver's seat in front of someone else, but Wolf was staring out the window, not even paying attention. She settled behind the wheel and turned on the engine. "You don't have to come with me, you know."

"You aren't armed."

She frowned as she put the truck in gear. "You don't know that."

He rolled his head toward her and gave a bland look.

She sighed. "Okay, fine. I'm not armed. But I'm going to get a kid."

"First, I told you to have a gun. Second, you don't know it's a kid."

She opened her mouth to argue, but couldn't. He was right on both points. "I don't know how to use a gun," she admitted.

He sighed as if the weight of the world was suddenly on his shoulders. "Of course not."

"I have guns," she said defensively. "Lots. And ammo. All I could find. I was going to teach myself to shoot this spring."

"I'll teach you to shoot."

She gave him a quick look as she pulled up in front of the Walmart. "I didn't think you were sticking around."

Wolf opened the door and bounded out without answering the question. "I'll be right back." She watched him cross in front of the plow and enter the Walmart.

"Holy shit what a weirdo," she said to herself. For a second she considered taking off without him, but the thought was fleeting. He was right. She wasn't armed, and it really might not be a kid at the other end of the journey. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and waited.

When he returned, he belted himself into the seat. "Gus has things under control for the night but let's get this done as quick as possible."

"Gus?"

"Yep. Old man. Good guy, tough as nails. Everyone in there respects him. He'll be a good supporter of yours."

She snorted and he looked at her. "Supporter. I...it just sounds weird."

"Hm," was his only response to that. He glanced out the windshield. "You're going to miss your turn."

She looked forward and pulled hard to the left. They made the corner, but barely. She caught Wolf's look of amusement and she felt her face burn. They drove on in silence for a little while. "Who else should I know about?" she asked when the silence got to her.

"Eve."

"Who's she?"

"The girl who lost the baby."

"How did it die?"

"Stillborn. Really little, probably only six or seven months pregnant."

She swallowed hard. "Poor thing. How is she?"

"Young. Scared. I'd put her seventeen, eighteen."

"Holy shit," she whispered.

"She's tough. I think she'll get through but she needs some special attention. Good bed, real food, plenty of rest."

She nodded, trying to start a list in her head. Gus was old and tough, Eve was young and hurting. "Got it. Who else?"

"You want all their names?"

She shrugged. "I need to know who I'm...who's coming to..." She frowned deeply. Just how in the hell should she classify them? Or her? She waved a hand. "You know. Them."

He considered her for a minute. She wanted this. She wanted it more than she realized. He wasn't kidding when he told her that, and his assessment was correct. He was sure. It was his job to analyze, his life's work to size a person up quickly to determine strengths and assess potential problems. She was young. She needed training, and that couldn't begin soon enough. But she wanted it. She craved it. The need to have a flock to guard over all but radiated off her. If only she realized that for herself. "They're your people."

She snorted. "I don't have people."

"You do now."

The laugh died on her lips at his look. He was so absolute. "You're a very intense person, Wolf."

He almost looked proud. "It's been mentioned."

She gripped the steering wheel for a few minutes, her mind trying to come up with something to say. "Well, I'll tell you what. I don't know what they are going to be to me, or what I'm going to be to them. But right now, I just have to think of that scared kid who needs a family. Let's just focus on that."

Wolf said nothing and turned his head to look out the front window. Jesus she was young. Fine. She wanted to think of one thing at a time? They would. Let her see the kid and take him in and get addicted to that feeling. That's all she'd need.

The miles passed until they had to turn off the main road and begin up a steep hill. She was not doing well driving up the hill and he coached her along. They twisted and turned, slowly chugging along the mountain road. "Nice and easy," Wolf said over and over.

"Why couldn't he live in the middle of an airport landing strip?" she joked, unable to hide the nervousness from her voice. The truck was so close to the edge. All it would take would be one icy patch under the snow and the big plow would slip over the side and down into the narrow ravine.

"You got this. Just give it a little more gas. Clutch," Wolf said. She pushed the clutch in and he shifted, selecting the right gear for her. She gripped the steering wheel so hard that by the time the crested the mountain her bones ached. "Let's just sit here a second and get our breath." His calming voice left no room for argument and she put the truck in park.

She turned a scared look his way and whispered, "I fucking hate driving."

He couldn't help it. He laughed. Just a bubble of laughter that sounded harsh even to him. But it was a laugh nonetheless. "You're doing fine."

"You take over."

He shook his head. "No. You're doing fine. Step out and get some air."

She nodded. She stepped out and drew a deep breath. Morning was breaking and the first strains of muted light could be seen to the east. She drew in another breath and felt the nerves slowly unclench. One more, and she felt in control. She got back into the cab.

"Better?"

She nodded. "I'd be better if you'd drive."

"Clutch," was all he said. She sighed and pushed in the clutch while Wolf put the truck in gear. "Down we go," he said as they jumped forward.

A half hour later they finally reached the address. They sat in the cab looking at the small house. It was tucked into the middle of the forest, with no neighbors for miles. "No wonder he feels all alone," she said quietly.

Wolf scanned the house and the yard, his trained eyes taking in every detail. There were no footprints in the snow. The yard was clean. Three little stick crosses poked out of the snow under the trees at the edge of the driveway. There were lights on in the house, but no sign of movement. The truck's rumble was very loud, loud enough that it should have woken anyone in the small cabin. There was no smoke coming from the chimney. He frowned. He didn't like what he saw. It felt like a trap. Or worse. "Did you let him know you were coming?"

She shoved her arms into the jacket she'd taken off during the stressful trip. "Yep. Blipped a quick message. I don't know if he saw it. It was really late."

Wolf reached inside his jacket and removed his gun from the holster. "Wait here."

She scoffed. "You can't just go rushing in there with a gun! You'll scare him!" She put her hand on the handle of the door and pulled.

Wolf's hand shot out and he firmly held her torso. "Wait. Here."

The look in his eye said just how serious he was. She clenched her jaw. "Fine. But don't point the gun at him."

Wolf quirked an eyebrow but said nothing more as he hopped out of the rig. She watched him cross the yard, saw his eyes scanning around, watched as he spun and turned, his gun at the ready. He looked like a character out of a spy movie and she wondered again what his job was in his former life. He swiftly scaled the porch steps and pressed his back to the wall.

"Oh for the love of..." she muttered to herself. There was safety, then there was just being ridiculous. She hopped out of the truck.

"I said stay!" Wolf barked.

"And I'm not a dog." She trotted up the stairs and shook his hand off her elbow.

"Let me at least clear the area," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're being ridiculous." She watched as a vein in Wolf's temple actually throbbed. She'd read about that in books, but had never pissed someone off enough to witness it personally. She knew she had made her point, so she stepped back and motioned to the door. "Fine. You go first if it's so important to you."

Wolf opened his mouth to snap at her, but closed it without speaking. Later. There would be time later for him to explain everything she should have noticed for herself. "Stay here. And I'm not ordering you like a dog, I'm telling you what you should do for your safety. You follow anyway and get your head blown off by an angry lunatic, don't come and haunt me in your afterlife."

His words were said so clinically, so matter-of-fact that they cut through. She willed herself not to shiver and stepped back. She'd wait. He gave a little nod, then opened the door.

"I'll signal if it's clear," he said in a very low tone. "If there's trouble run for the truck and get out of here."

"But..."

"I mean it."

She gave another nod and pressed her lips together. She watched Wolf enter the house, then he closed the door. She didn't know if it was to keep her from following, or to keep any potential dangers inside the house, but she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms to wait.

It wasn't long before the door opened and he came out, pulling it tightly closed behind him.

"Well?"

She was so hopeful. Her damn face was so fucking hopeful. Jesus what did he get himself into? He could lie. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her it was the wrong address, or the kid wandered off. After he found the hanging body of the boy who just couldn't take it anymore, Wolf climbed the stairs and prepared a brief list of believable stories that would hide the truth.

"Come on! The suspense is killing me."

Her cheeks were rosy pink in the morning cold. She had dark circles under her eyes, he knew from lack of sleep. Even with that, the hope was still so clear. Her eyes sparkled with it. She might want a friend. Hell, a surprising part of himself he thought was long dead wanted to _be_ that friend. But "want" didn't have a place in this new life. She could make a friend in any of the others. What she wanted and what she needed were two different things. Wolf made her step up. He made her agree to lead. He made her drive, even though he easily could have taken over the wheel, because all of that was what she needed. And right then, she needed to hear the truth, no matter what kind of bastard that made him.

"We're too late," he said calmly.

It took a second for his words to register. He watched the painfully soul-crushing hope fade to fear and sadness. "No." She didn't want to believe him.

"Come on." Wolf holstered his gun and gently pulled her arm. She wrenched it away from him and pushed towards the door. He grabbed her more firmly. "Come on. We're too late."

"No!" she shouted, her eyes full of angry tears. "No. I did not come all this way to be too late!"

"You can't save them all," Wolf said as patiently as he could.

She made a strangled little noise and opened the door. She had to see. She had to know. She felt his grip on her arm and yanked against it. "Get your fucking hands off me right now!"

Wolf let go, silently pleased with the fight and the fire. Maybe she did have to see for herself. It would either break her or make her. He just wished he knew her well enough to know which it would be. "He's in the cellar."

She stopped, surprised at Wolf's sudden turnaround. "Thank you," she said hoarsely. She made her way through the living room. There was a door open in the hallway, and as she neared she could smell the familiar odor of death. She almost gagged on it, and her stomach heaved. Oh god. They really were too late. She hesitated at the top of the stairs. She took a quick look over her shoulder. Wolf was standing just inside the living room, arms crossed, watching her. Was he waiting for her to fail? She felt her spine stiffen at the thought and turned to walk with purpose down the stairs.

She stood for a long time at the bottom, looking at the small body with the rope around its neck. Wolf had cut him down and laid him on the floor. There was a crate tipped over nearby. She could see the other end of his self-made noose still tied to a crossbeam. There was no note, no last wishes, confessions, or prayers. There was nothing and no one. The boy, maybe thirteen by the looks, died alone and scared by his own hand.

She felt the bile rise and did nothing to stop it as she dropped to the floor and heaved and heaved until she felt empty. She reached out a hand and ran it over the boy's hair. They were so close. She almost made it. If he had just held on another day or two. She felt the tears and the scream building inside, felt the numbness beckon. She shook her head and pushed up onto unsteady legs.

She groped her way up the stairs and stumbled down the hall and out to the truck. Wolf followed silently. He said nothing when she got into the passenger's seat. She couldn't drive or she'd kill them both. He climbed into the truck and began the arduous task of navigating the mountain. She sat with her head leaning on the side window, saying nothing.

Wolf wished he could get a better feel for her state of mind. He couldn't tell if she'd been pushed over the edge. He couldn't tell if she'd bounce back. He couldn't tell if that was the straw that broke the camel's back, or the foundation for a new resolve to help the ones she could. It was a coin toss, and he hated being unsure. He reached in his pocket and took out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, then cranked the window down a little.

"You mind?" he asked after the fact.

She said nothing. Wolf frowned and drove through their plowed path back to Walmart. He finished his cigarette and flicked the butt out the window. He cleared his throat. "We're almost back."

She nodded. "I know," she said quietly.

"You can help them. It's not too late for them."

She nodded but said nothing. What could she say? His words were true and they were right. That didn't make the pain of guilt and failure any less. They were too late for that boy. If they could rewind the clock and go back in time a week, she would know about him in time. She could contact him in time. She could get there in time to keep the rope from his neck.

But they couldn't go back. There was no such thing as a time machine. Time just marched forward unendingly, unceasingly, with no thought or care to pain and guilt and the "what ifs" of life. She would have to do what she'd already learned to do. She'd have to swallow it and hold it and learn from it and move on. She hated herself for thinking like that, but that's what the incessant persistence of time forced her to do. She would arrive at Walmart to find forty-six people who needed her. She could help them. And the boy, she would keep with her, his lifeless face in her mind always as a reminder not to fail again.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. Wolf determined he would just have to wait and see what happened. She was silent, but he was quickly learning that a whole lot happened under her silent surface. He'd just have to wait and see how it all played out. They pulled into the Walmart and he waited a minute before opening the door.

"When we get in there, I want you to take a good look. Look at everything. Look at the people, look at how they've been living. You take a good look and then you tell me you can't be in charge of them. These are people you _can_ save."

She assessed him for a minute before nodding. "Okay." They got out and she followed him to the door.

They were met by an elderly man she assumed was Gus. "You've been gone too long."

Wolf sighed. "Blaze?"

The old man nodded. "Yep. Started sniffin' around Eve and had to be put in his place. Chuck's on it."

"Shit," Wolf swore as he pulled out his gun. He was about to step inside, but changed his mind. She should go first. Let her see. Let it hit her. He stepped aside and motioned her forward.

She frowned, but followed his invitation to enter first. What she saw was almost incomprehensible. She didn't know what she expected, exactly. A Walmart, with squatters. A store, one of the many like it. She knew Walmart, had shopped there too many times to count. She assumed maybe there would be tents, maybe people would have set up cots. But it would still look like a Walmart, it would still be familiar. She certainly didn't expect to step into a war zone.

She stood at the front of the store and could not believe the utter chaos in front of her. Racks and aisle shelving were tipped, or shoved aside, sectioning off areas. There was a pile of cans and wrappers, trash, just left there in the corner, not even taken outside. There was a horrid odor coming from her right, from the area under the "restrooms" sign. And people stared at her, most of them filthy, all of them with the look of deer in headlights. What the hell was the matter with them?

Wolf gave her back a little nudge and she walked forward, taking it all in. All of the cash registers were in a heap. A young guy with a bad attitude exuding out of every pore sat in a lawn chair in front of them and cleaned his nails with a large hunting knife. He was clearly guarding his treasures and if they were at sea, she'd call him a pirate.

He stopped with he saw her staring and pointed the knife at her. "You even think about touching my loot and..." he dragged the back of the blade across his throat.

She could not help but laugh. It was absurd. Absolutely, ridiculously absurd. "And what could I possibly want with money?"

Wolf felt his nerves unwind. The scene at the cabin didn't kill her. It didn't crush her. She passed the test and came out better.

Someone giggled. A woman. She turned her head and saw an older woman covering her mouth. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"Janice."

She nodded and turned back to pirate-boy. "Janice knows how ridiculous you are."

"Basics of survival, lady," he defended. "Someday the world will be back and I'll be sitting pretty."

"And what are you going to eat while you're waiting for that to happen? Andrew Jackson and Benjamin Franklin are a little tough on the digestion."

Wolf liked her quick wit. That's what they needed. They needed someone who could do their thinking for them while they healed. He scanned the crowd. She was already making friends. Good. He stepped forward and the pirate-boy's eyes flashed with fear. Wolf held his hand out and the kid reluctantly turned over the knife. "I thought we talked about you and weapons, Blaze."

_So that's Blaze_ , she thought. The boy scowled but kept his mouth clamped shut and it made her wonder about his past interactions with Wolf. She turned to the rest of the group and began slowly walking through the store. Take it all in, Wolf had told her. And so she did. And every step showed one more failure, every look piqued a quiet rage. They didn't even wash, not most of them, anyway. "Do you have running water, Janice?" she asked of the middle aged woman.

"Yes, ma'am," Janice answered.

She was taken aback for a moment. _Ma'am_? She turned to look at Wolf uncertainly. He gave the smallest of nods, one she was sure no one else would have noticed. "Then why are you all so dirty?" she asked Janice. Janice couldn't answer, but the older woman's cheeks turned red. _At least Janice has the good sense to be embarrassed_ , she thought as she moved on. She came to a very thin, small young lady. _This must be Eve_. She held her hand out and the girl grabbed it. "I've been told you're not well," she said only loud enough for the girl to hear.

"Get me the hell out of here and I'll be a whole lot better in a hurry."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Oh I think I'm going to like you just fine, Eve." She nodded towards the front. "Gather your stuff and wait up that way. We'll head out soon." Eve flashed a grin and hurried to gather supplies.

She watched Eve and was pleased with the level of excitement. Eve was so sickly that her face looked gray, yet there was such a spark there. She knew she'd come to rely on Eve. Eve was the type of person other people would listen to. And boy, did these people need to start listening to someone. "Janice, you too." She turned to the group at large. "All of you. You're all welcome to come to my farm."

"I'm set up just fine here," said one man.

She looked him up and down and frowned. He was dirty like the rest, but sat among a pile of hoarded snack foods. They all had to be close to their expiration dates, if not past. "And what are you going to eat when you run out of cheese crunchies?" she asked him.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "You offering better?"

She felt her annoyance rise again. "I've got a farm, or didn't you hear that part? Corn. And a bull. I saw deer around my place and there's a lake nearby to fish."

"You don't look like no damn farmer."

"I will be. Come spring, I'll have to be. As will all of you if you plan on living."

The man dismissed her with the wave of a hand. "I'm not shoveling cow shit. I'm sure there's a plan."

She stared at the man and blinked a few times, unable to believe what she was hearing. "A plan?"

"Yep. Government's gonna save us. You'll see."

There was a groan from the crowd around her. "Are...are you serious?" She turned to look at Wolf. "Is he serious?"

Gus laughed. "As a heart attack, ma'am."

She turned to the rest of the group. "But you know that's not going to happen, right?" There were only a couple people that truly agreed with her and the thought was staggering. "People, we're it. There's no plan. This is it. What you see here is it." Several people shifted their gazes. Unbelievable. Did they honestly, honestly believe that something would happen? That someone else would save them? "If you want a chance at life, you're going to have to build it for yourselves."

"Like I've been sayin' for months," yelled Gus, throwing his hands in the air. "Amen and hallelujah, someone else gets it!"

"I don't care what you say," said the stubborn man from behind his potato chip bag moat. "I paid taxes for thirty god dammed years..."

"Oh here we go again," said another man. He threw his hands in the air, pushed off the floor, and approached with his hand out. "I'm Steve. I'll just grab my stuff and head to the line. A farm has got to be better than retail hell!" He went to the front and stood with the others. Several more people stood and made their way. Some still looked around, unsure. A few would definitely be stubborn hold outs.

_Time to try the direct approach_ , she thought to herself. "Your taxes are gone. Money is gone," she said pointedly to Blaze. "The government is gone, the people are gone. You have no representatives, you have no law makers. There is no emergency service that will come and bail you out. This is it. I am it. And right now you have two choices. You can continue to let yourselves wallow in this filth and rot in your own shit and piss and stink and garbage, or you can get your asses in the truck and come help me build up a new life for all of us."

Several more people got up and made their way to the front. A man came running out from way in the back of the store. He was very tall, very thin, and very, very creepy. He had an unusual grin and stopped right in front of her, bending low in an old fashioned bow. "I am at your service, my lady."

"And you are?"

"Chuck. And if you will shuffle me off this mortal coil, I shall forever be in your debt." He grinned and it sent shivers down her spine.

"That doesn't mean what you think it means," said Gus, shaking his head.

"That means death," clarified Janice with a nod.

Chuck looked at her, still holding her hand. "Is this not a grand death already?"

She pulled her hand away and pointed to the front. "Uh, join the others, Chuck."

"I don't fucking believe this bullshit!" The potato chip king yelled. "Traitors! All of you!"

Much to her surprise, Chuck whirled around and backhanded the man. The man's arms flailed and he tipped over and crashed to the floor.

"Chuck!" she yelled. Wolf was already making his way down the store to them.

Chuck crouched over the stunned man and grabbed him by the collar. "You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"She...she ain't my mother..." the man stammered.

Wolf placed a hand on Chuck's shoulder. She found it odd that was all it took for Chuck to release the man. "Aw, Wolfie," Chuck whined. "One of these days you'll let me do it. You know what a waste he is. Let's kill him, you and me."

Wolf shook his head. "Not this time." He pointed to the front and Chuck sighed, but followed directions. Wolf held his hand out. The man stubbornly refused to grab it. "I swear to Christ, Fred, if you don't shut up and get in line I'll let Chuck at you."

Fred quickly reassessed and let Wolf pull him up, grumbling the whole way.

"And he's right," Wolf said very, very quietly in Fred's ear. "You talk like that to her again and you'll wish you died like the rest." Fred's face turned white and he huffed and hurried his way to the front, making sure to stand as far away from Chuck as possible.

"I'm not your mother," she said to the rest of the group. "If I was, I'd put you all on punishment. Look at yourselves. Look at what you've let yourselves become!" She pointed to a woman. "Come on, would your mother let you get that filthy? When was the last time you brushed your hair?" She moved on once she saw the woman blush deeply, her point made. "You. You're surrounded by garbage. Garbage! Why the fuck didn't you take it out? You are literally wallowing in trash." The man looked away. She turned to the whole group. "Come on. We're better than this! We're survivors. We made it. Do you know what a rare gift that is?"

"It doesn't feel like a gift," said a woman quietly.

"Who are you?"

"Coraline."

"It is a gift. You lived."

"And my babies died and I wish I died right along side them!" Coraline spat out bitterly.

"Then stay here," she said quietly. "Stay here and rot, and then they all died in vain. Then none of them were actually ever here. If no one carries on, then they were never here at all."

Coraline made a gurgle that sounded like a laugh. "Oh for fuck's sake. Listen to Madam Altruistic over here!"

She sighed and threw her hands up, the exhaustion and frustration of the night mixing with the anger of the day, fueling a good, deep, hot rage. "It's your choice. It's for all of you to chose. I have a farm with a nice little town. I plan on building it back up. I plan on getting up every day and pushing ahead. I plan on doing it because there can be something again, there can be more. I _did_ survive and I'll be god damned if I'll just piss that all away in a pile of my own filth and garbage! You want to rot in your own little dump? Be my guest! Have a good afterlife. Make sure to explain to those babies why you failed when you get there. Tell them Mommy let them die for nothing."

The words were cold. The words were mean. The words shocked the crowd as much as they shocked her. They were, perhaps, the most awful words she'd ever spoken to anyone. And she was stunned even more to realize she truly meant them and that she didn't want to apologize.

She couldn't take it. She had to get out of there. "I'm rolling out in fifteen minutes. I will never return to this cesspool. If you feel like joining me, the more the merrier. If you don't, then I wish you well." She pushed her way outside past the stunned crowed and stormed to the front of the plow truck to catch her breath.

She felt Wolf's presence. She stared across the parking lot feeling like a shit. She heard him light a cigarette and pull in a breath. "Coraline asked for it," she justified.

"Yep."

She glanced sideways at him. "That's it?"

"Yep."

She wanted Wolf to tell her she was already failing. She wanted him to yell at her for losing her cool. What she said was unforgivably mean. She wanted him to yell at her, but he didn't. She turned and looked back at the empty town in front of them. She could hear a loud voice directing people into the truck. Eve. She didn't want Eve riding in the elements. "Put Eve in the cab with us."

"Yes ma'am," Wolf said. He flicked his cigarette away and walked to the back where people were loading up. She heard him bark some quick orders and in no time, he told her they were ready to go. She pulled herself into the driver's seat.

"Thanks for letting me ride up here with you," Eve said, snapping the seat belt closed.

"No problem. How long ago did you, ah, have your troubles?"

"A couple weeks. And it's okay, I'm not sad about it."

She quirked an eyebrow at the girl. Eve looked serious. "Okay then. Have you had trouble since?"

Eve shook her head. "I just feel tired a lot. It was kinda messy."

Wolf looked decidedly uncomfortable. "Can we get this show on the road?"

"Don't tell me the big, bad, Wolf can be undone by a little menstruation talk," she teased, leaning forward to look at him across Eve. At his scowl she bit the inside of her lip and turned away before she laughed outright. "Let's get the hell out of here, kiddies." She started the truck and they lurched forward towards home.

Chapter 6

It was finally dark and quiet. Forty seven new people were resting for their first night in their new barn home. And she had to admit, her barn really was a lot cleaner than what they'd come from. They had returned to the farm late afternoon, freezing and hungry and, of course, dirty. Wolf was opposed to them entering her farmhouse, but she overrode him. "We'll talk about security later. For now, they need to get clean, eat a hot meal, and get a good night's sleep. Then we'll worry about the rest."

Wolf finally relented, but had insisted on standing guard outside the bathroom door as, one by one, people got a two-minute wash up in the shower. Twice Wolf had to enter and shut the water off and hurry people along. But a few hours, four bars of soap, and three bottles of shampoo later, and everyone was passably clean and in clean clothes. The dirty clothes were piled outside, and everyone agreed the best thing to do would be to burn them.

Eve had been given the first shower, and refused to rest after, insisting on helping with the meal. Though the conditions at Walmart were abysmal, Wolf had ordered that people grab trash bags, styrofoam plates and bowls, and plastic silverware and cups. While the rest of the people cleaned, she and Eve opened cans of vegetables and meat and dumped them into the biggest stock pot she had. They found a case of saltine crackers that weren't yet out of date and by the time everyone was clean, they had a good, hot meal ready. Wolf put his foot down and insisted it be served in the barn. He got her to listen by pointing out it was the only space large enough for everyone to eat together, and Eve liked that idea.

"It'll make everyone feel more like a family," Eve said.

So, they had eaten their meal on the floor of the barn.

"If anyone told me a year ago that I'd be eating the best damn soup I ever tasted in my life on the floor of a barn, I'd have told them they were loopy!" Gus had said. Others laughed.

In fact, there were many laughs over the meal. And then there were many yawns. Though she was dying to ask them all about themselves, to start planning, to begin their new life together, she could see that everyone was spent. She had them all turn in early, then asked Wolf what he thought about Eve sleeping in the house. He agreed that it would probably be wise, so that's what happened. Eve bedded down on the couch in the den and fell asleep in minutes.

She looked at the girl. The couch seemed to swallow the poor thing up. And yet, Eve wasn't fragile. Her body might be, but Eve herself wasn't. She shut the light off and tiptoed out of the room, running smack into Wolf.

"Your people are sleeping, all the chickies are in their nests. Time to get down to business."

She rubbed her tired eyes. "We can talk in the morning."

He shook his head. "Some things can't wait."

"Like what?"

"Show me around."

She looked at him. He didn't seem like he was kidding. "Are you serious? You want a damn tour?"

"I need to know the lay of the land before they do."

"You really take this security thing seriously." She said it half-joking. Wolf just stood and waited. She thought of her comfy bed once more before giving in. "Fine. Where do you want to start?"

"Upstairs."

So, they did. She showed him all around the main house. Some things he liked. He was pleased with her supplies, even though he agreed she was horrible at organizing them. He liked the fact that she slept downstairs. He said it was good for safety. He agreed with her plans on completing the construction and thought she had a very good start. Wolf did not like everything he saw, though. In every room they entered, he listed off a dozen weak points. He told her about a hundred ways people could get in and kill her, and twice as many ways people could steal everything she had. By the time they were done and waiting for the coffee to brew, it was almost ten and she was mentally and physically drained. When the coffee pot beeped, she let him fix them both coffee and choked it down.

"You make a strong brew, Wolf."

"No point in drinking it if it doesn't do the job."

She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Wolf didn't tell her it stuck up in spikes when she did that. He'd pushed her hard all day. He pushed, and she kept right up. She was exhausted. He knew he'd have to let her sleep soon. He pushed her and she did very well indeed, but it wasn't enough. All through the day he saw her weaknesses. She still didn't understand she'd be in real danger, that eventually her life would be on the line. Not "might". _Would_. He knew the scenarios he'd listed off frightened her. But being scared and really understanding were two different things. If she was merely scared, she couldn't prevent all the "coulds". She had learn to get past the fear and understand. It would take time and be a process, as it was for everyone who stepped into the role of leadership. He had time. There were a couple of loose cannons in the mix, but nothing he couldn't handle. If she wanted the town to grow, then it would be a different story.

"I think it went well tonight," she said, her head leaning on her arms slumped over the table. "Don't you?"

Wolf gave a shrug. "No one fought."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do they usually?"

"Hell yes."

"Hm. Okay, then it went very well by their loose standards."

He took another sip of his coffee. "You might want to consider making Eve your second in command."

She closed her eyes, wishing the coffee would hurry up and work faster. She could almost fall asleep right at the table. "I figured you for that role."

He gave another bark of what she figured was laughter. "I told you I'm not leading this group."

"You're ordering me around pretty well."

"No," he said firmly. She opened her eyes. "I'm making some calculated suggestions."

She snorted. "Is that what you call them?"

"You don't have to listen to anything I say. It's just advice."

"Yeah. Tell that to everyone else. They listen to you."

Wolf put his cup down and folded his hands on the table in front of them. "Yes. They do. But I'm stepping aside and they will listen to you."

She sighed. "I don't know about that. They still looked to you during dinner."

"And I turned them in your direction, didn't I?"

She opened her mouth to object, but then frowned. He had. Each time someone asked him something, he sent them her direction. "Oh. I guess you did."

"And I will keep doing that as long as I'm here. Trust me, I meant what I said. They need someone to lead them, and that's not me." He gave her a pointed look, then drained the rest of his coffee. "Mind if I get more?"

She shook her head. "Help yourself."

Wolf was going to tell her that was the wrong decision, that she had to start rationing. But he knew she'd figure it out. He poured another cup and sat back down. It had been a good two months since he had a hot cup of coffee and he was enjoying the luxury immensely.

"If you're not going to be my second in command, then what are you going to do?" She had a moment of panic at the thought he'd just leave. "You are staying, aren't you?"

Wolf didn't know. He hadn't planned on it. He planned on finding someone to take them off his hands and moving on. To what, he had no clue. He didn't plan to stay anywhere or to settle so quickly. He also didn't plan on the person picking up the slack being so young or innocent or naive. The old, cold sense of responsibility reared up and he was surprised to find that he'd missed it the past few months. "I'll stay as long as I'm needed," he said eventually.

She smiled, a sense of relief filling her.

"Now don't go getting all sappy," he said, trying to head her off. "I'm an asshole and I guarantee within a month you'll hate me."

She shrugged. "I don't hold grudges."

No, she probably didn't. He wanted to make things clear, right from the start. "Okay, you asked what my job will be, and there's only one job I will have here. Security. You have massive, glaring security gaps."
"So you've said," she said wryly.

"And I'll keep saying it because it's true." He closed his mouth and looked at her for a minute, thinking of the best way to explain. "What do you want here?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The town. What do you see for the town." When she opened her mouth he cut her off. "Oh no, now don't give me that bullshit about not knowing. You've pack-ratted the entire place. You've got enough shit squirreled away to take care of an army. And don't think I missed the stacks of survival guides by your bed. You've got a plan. So what is it? What do you want? When you close your eyes, what do you see for your town?"

"We're already to the hopes and dreams part of our relationship?" she joked. It was clear Wolf was in no mood for jokes. "Fine. What do I see? I don't know. I used to sit on the back deck at night and...pretend." He motioned for her to continue and she swallowed. "Okay. You're going to know I'm a complete dork and loony soon anyway. Better make it clear right off the bat. What do I see? I see my kingdom, with subjects below who have a market and children and lives. I see people working in the field and working together and having enough food for big feasts. I see people laughing and smiling and moving on and living."

"And who are you in all this?"

Her cheeks burned. "I'm the queen. I'm the one pulling the strings and making them do what they should. Is that what you want to hear?"

"Yes."

Wolf's simple statement stopped her and made her feel intensely embarrassed. She just admitted it out loud. And instead of laughing, he agreed. He was an odd man. "Well. I can't be queen. We don't have queens. And I don't really want to be a queen. I don't want to tell them everything they should do." She looked away and idly picked at the a dried blotch of coffee on the table. "Besides, I don't know anything myself. Who the hell am I to be queen?"

"Eve called you Mother."

She snorted. Eve had, all through dinner. In fact, by the end of the meal, she had many people calling her Mother, or Ma, or Mum. "Yeah, what the hell was all that about?"

He shrugged. "I think Eve is one damn smart cookie."

She looked into his eyes. He wasn't playing around, he was being serious. "Wolf. I can't have people call me Mother."

"It's an absolutely brilliant name."

She scoffed. "Most of them are twice as old as me!"

"Gus called you Mum."

She threw her head back and laughed. "This is an absurd conversation after an absurd night after an absurd life."

"Then what should we call you?"

She opened her mouth to tell him her name and then stopped. Her mind just stopped. It would not allow that name to pass her lips. She was not that person anymore, in any way. And, truth be told, she was very glad for it. She didn't want to be that person, even when she had been, and she was glad to see her go. That person died with the rest. She blinked at Wolf, her tired mind unable to wrap itself around the simple request of a name.

"You need sleep," he said. "Maybe you'll think of a name over night. Unless you do, Mother's going to stick."

"They can't call me Mother."

"Think about it, on every level. Chuck likened you to a mother when he put Fred in his place. Something made Eve start calling you that." Wolf drained his cup and stood. He grabbed her mug and rinsed them both in the sink while she let the name roll around in her head. "You said you don't want to be a queen, and maybe you're right. Maybe they don't need a queen. But maybe they _do_ need a mother." He gave her a pointed look, then motioned to the hall. "Go. Get sleep. We're going to have one hell of a busy day tomorrow, Mother."

She numbly made her way downstairs, thinking about all he said. She couldn't help glance at the windows and think of people sneaking in during the night, and cursed Wolf for that. How quickly his paranoia spread! She finally got to take her own shower, then stood wrapped in a towel, staring into the mirror. When it fogged, she swiped her hand over it again.

Mother.

She tried saying it aloud, testing the name out. "Hello, nice to meet you. I'm Mother." It made her giggle, and she was surprised to hear a note of mania in her voice. That sobered her. Mother? It was crazy. She was no mother. Just that day she had failed. Was it really only that day? The image of the boy in the cellar sliced through her and she turned from the mirror, unable to look at herself.

"I'm not a fucking mother." A mother would have been there. A mother wouldn't have let him down. She angrily brushed her wet hair, then put on some clean clothes. She went into her room and flopped on the bed and stared at her ceiling.

A mother did let him down, though, didn't she? One of the crosses in the driveway was for his mother. His mother died. All the mothers died.

All the mothers died.

It was a thought that stayed with her until she could no longer keep her eyes open, and echoed through her the next morning as she stood watching the coffee drip slowly into the pot. All the mothers died. Eve came into the kitchen and sat quietly at the table. She turned to great her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Mother. That's one comfy couch you've got. Better than the floor of Walmart, that's for damn sure."

She stared at the girl. "Why do you call me Mother?"

Eve shrugged. "You just seem like a Mom. I'll stop if you want me to."

"No," said Wolf entering the kitchen. "Keep calling her that. That's her name."

_Mother_. "It won't stick," she said to the both of them.

"Why?" asked Eve, tilting her head in thought. "I doubt Wolf was named Wolf when his parents bounced him on their knee."

"There was no knee bouncing, and I would have loved to have been a kid named Wolf." He reached across and pulled the coffee pot out from the machine.

"It's not done yet."

He ignored her and poured three cups. "It's enough to start."

_Mother_. She picked up her coffee and considered.

"My real name is Evelyn, but I hate it," Eve continued. "I don't think I'll ever call myself that again." She tasted the coffee, then frowned and dumped in more sugar. "Everyone who knew me as Evelyn is already dead. I guess I can call myself Eve and no one will know the difference."

She snorted. "But no one was actually named 'Mother'."

Eve grinned. "They are now."

Wolf quirked an eyebrow in agreement and sipped his coffee.

_Mother_. "It's so conceited."

"Yep," said Wolf.

Eve shrugged. "If you're in charge you're supposed to be conceited, right?"

She cocked her head to the side. "I guess I never thought about that."

"Anyway, it's not conceit, really, it's confidence," Eve said with a firm nod.

She couldn't help but smile. Eve was excellent at justifications. "Careful, you'll get me in trouble swelling my head like that."

Wolf barked a laugh and Eve jumped. "You've got quite a ways for that head to grow before it becomes a problem, Mother."

She shook her head. "Mother," she said testing it out loud again. "It's weird."

"But it fits." Wolf put his cup in the sink. "Now, with your permission, I'm going to head out and wake everyone up to start the first day in their new town."

She nodded. "I'll get breakfast."

"I'll help," said Eve eagerly.

"You should be resting, young lady."

"Yes, Mother," Eve said with a pointed look.

Yes, on some odd level in their new, turned-over world, she guessed it did make sense. _Mother. I am Mother_ , she told herself.

With that settled, something in her felt bigger and stronger. Mother stood and rolled up her sleeves, ready to start the first full day with her new people. "Then if you're insistent Eve, let's get to it. We've got a busy day ahead of us and it's going to start with a good meal."

Chapter 7

Eve, Wolf, Gus, and Mother sat around the kitchen table a week later. It was late and quiet and her body's cry for sleep beat a steady cadence in Mother's brain. There was so much to do. Too much to do. And there were far too many lives at stake to waste time sleeping. She numbly gulped another mouthful of coffee. She didn't even bother with sugar anymore. She was far beyond caring what it tasted like, so long as it did the job.

"We've had three warmer days in a row," Mother said. "We absolutely have to take advantage of the melt and start cleaning the houses." It was why she had called a meeting, to try and make a housing plan. Things in the barn were getting a little tense. The last thing she wanted was people seeing the barn as just another extension of their Walmart hell.

Eve sat with several notebooks stacked in front of her. She had quickly proven to be excellent at organization. Mother had commented on it when they spent two days making notes about every new citizen on Eve's suggestion. "I did well in school. If I didn't drop out, I probably would have made a good secretary or something." Mother had filed that information away in her internal dossier on all her citizens.

She had many good people. Eve had already proved herself to be invaluable. Gus was sharp as a tack, even though he was approaching eighty, and as Wolf said, the others looked to him for guidance. Steve was a hard worker. He was the only person that had volunteered to help muck out Phil's stall, and Mother noticed that he had assembled a crew to help him get the barnyard shoveled. Janice was very bubbly, and talked constantly. While Mother got the feeling people would only put up with her chatty ways so long before they snapped, she had to admit that Janice had a certain charm. She was also always asking for books.

They also had a few duds. Fred, of course. He started things off by being obstinate, and he had continued to live up to that persona every day since. He always had an argument, and constantly had to be goaded into compliance on even the very basic requests. If he could think of any argument, he'd make one. It was draining for Mother to be around the man for more than five minutes. Blaze was also a problem, but Mother got the feeling he was just bored and in need of an outlet, not really a true trouble maker. Wolf didn't agree, and still kept a close eye on the kid.

And then there was bitter Coraline. Mother had no idea how to handle her. She did as she was asked. She didn't pick fights. She went about her days and technically wasn't a problem. It wasn't what she did, though, it was the attitude. Coraline's being oozed bitter contempt, and even though Eve thought it would just take time for her to heal, Mother had a suspicion it was deeper, that there was more to it than that. She thought Coraline was just one of those people that would find a bad thing to say about the weather on the day they won the lottery. Some people refused to be pleased by anything. Mother believed Coraline was one of those, and that kind of grumpiness could spread.

They needed to break up the people. They needed to let the citizens have their own space. Mother knew it. She'd been putting it off for three days, since Wolf broke up a little face-to-face scuffle between Chuck and Blaze. It didn't amount to anything more than words, but it would lead to more. She knew they had to start the mind boggling task of cleaning out the houses. It was such a horrifying thought that she pushed it off. Several of the men and one woman, Abby, had taken turns in the various plow trucks and had cleared the roads of a good chunk of the town, so she couldn't use the excuse that they were trapped in. They had plenty of hands, so she couldn't use the excuse of not having enough man power. She blamed the weather, and as soon as she had, the skies cleared and a warm front came through. She was out of excuses and her people were quickly growing impatient. She had to bite the bullet.

"So, let's get to planning. I want to start tomorrow," Mother said with authority, as if she hadn't been ducking the arduous task all week. "I'm not going to lie and pretend it'll be fun. Or easy." It would be messy and terrifying. She turned to Gus. "Gus, I figure you know the people better than any of us by now. I think we need a core crew. It's going to take a certain...uh...personality to handle it." God, she hoped she could. There was no way in hell she'd make them do it alone. She swallowed hard before continuing. "Anyone you think would be good for the job?"

"If you don't mind me saying, I think maybe you should have it be a volunteer kind of deal."

Gus made sense. She cast a quick glance to Eve who gave a subtle nod and jotted it down. "Yes," she said to Gus. "I think you're right. Chuck will volunteer."

Eve made a face. "That guy's a class A creeper."

"Chuck's harmless," said Wolf. It was the first thing he said all night. He and Mother had a fight that morning that left him too pissed to be around her. It was about security, again. She had been tired and hadn't wanted to hear him list all the ways she could die and she snapped at him. He blew up, she blew up back, and they spent the day cooling off. Mother was a little surprised he turned back up for the meeting, but didn't say anything. He was clearly going to let it go, and so was she.

Gus rubbed the thick white beard on his chin and it struck Mother once again that he was their personal Santa Claus. "He's an odd duck, I'll give you that, Eve. But I think Wolf's right. You know what I think when I'm around him? Vaudeville. He strikes me as one of those overacted undertaker types they had in the old vaudeville acts. Remember those?" The group didn't, of course, and he waved a hand. "I need to find some contemporaries. You whippersnappers make me feel old!" His eyes twinkled and Mother smiled.

"Whippersnappers?"

Gus grinned. "The snappiest."

Eve sighed. "You can put whatever spin you want on him. I think the dude's freaky."

Mother was already used to Eve's assessments of the other people. As Eve had been filling out the index cards of information they were keeping on every person, she had made endless comments. They weren't mean, and mostly Mother found they were astute observations that had matched her own personal thoughts. But sometimes, Eve's age colored her views. "Yes, well, it's a freaky job we're facing, so it might just be right up his alley," Mother pointed out. "Make a note and remind me to talk to him personally before I make the announcement to the crowd. He seems to be fond of my attention and I think he'd like a personal invite."

Wolf made a little noise and Mother looked at him. She stared and waited for him to say something, but he kept silent. He was still seething over their argument and fully intended to set her straight later. For the moment, he was a guest at her meeting. Her town, her planning session. When she adjourned it, though, then it would be a different story.

Mother turned back to Gus. "I know we need space. How many houses do you think we'll need to make people happy?"

"Ultimately everyone's going to want their own place."

She sighed. "I know that. But we've got to start small. We've got to get a set number, clean them, and let people move out of the barn all at once. I don't want anyone to think anyone else is getting preferential treatment." Gus quirked an eyebrow, opened his mouth, then closed it again. Mother knew he had something to say that he thought would offend her. He'd been doing that all week and she was getting tired of it. "For god's sake, Gus. Just spit it out. I'm not made of glass."

"They already think she's getting preferential treatment," he said, tipping his head toward Eve.

"She is," Mother readily confirmed.

Wolf couldn't help his laugh. He schooled his features quickly, but it was funny.

"Some of them don't like it too much," Gus continued.

Mother rolled her eyes. "Eve's gone through a physically traumatic event."

Gus put his hands up. "I wasn't asking for justifications. I get it. A lot of them do. But some don't. And they're going to keep harping on it unless you address it directly."

"I can stay in the barn, you know. I'm not made of glass, either," Eve said.

Mother looked to Wolf. He gave a little shrug. More and more he spoke less and less. He was stepping out of the lead and into the background, exactly as he promised. Sometimes it really pissed her off. "You have two cents to throw in the pot?" she asked him.

"Tell them it's none of their business."

She snorted. "Yeah. That'll go over well."

Wolf shrugged. "You asked."

Mother frowned. "You want me to pick a fight with them?"

"I want you to take a stand. You've been pussyfooting around about the cleaning for damn near a week now. I want you to do what you have to do!"

Wolf's words were far too heated to be about Eve, about the peoples' perception of Eve's role, or even the cleaning. Mother knew then that he was still angry about their argument. "I'm not going to change into a paranoid fruitcake just because you imagine there's danger around every corner!"

Gus looked to Eve. Eve sighed. She had heard the two screaming at each other that morning and knew what was coming. "I think the meeting's done, Gus."

"I don't imagine anything, sister! I look for the danger because I know it's there. I know it for a fact. And you turning a blind eye doesn't make it less real. Hide your head in the fucking sand all you want..."

Mother threw her hands in the air. "Oh here we go again! Come on." She wiggled her fingers towards herself. "Let me have it. Tell me just how little I've done and how stupid I am."

Gus cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah. I think Miss Eve's right. I'll, ah, pop back in tomorrow and see what we've come up with for the cleaning plans?" When no one answered, he grabbed his coat off the back of the chair. "Yeah. Well. G'night." Eve followed his lead and scooped up the notebooks. Mother had turned one of the rooms upstairs into a place for Eve to sleep, and she was very glad to have an escape. If she had still been sleeping on the couch, she would have had a very long night. She darted out of the room and couldn't get upstairs fast enough.

"I never called you stupid," Wolf said firmly.

"You might as well."

He sighed in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "I don't want to shout again," he said calmly.

Mother scoffed. "Could have fooled me."

"Stop being frustrating and listen to me for a minute." She opened her mouth, but at his look closed it tight and made a motion for him to continue. He pointed a finger towards the direction of the barn. "Out there are 45 people. They have been through the wringer and are just starting to wake up. And when they do, they will remember that they are not docile livestock."

She felt the outrage flame again. "I do not treat them like livestock!"

"I didn't say you did. I said that's what they are, right now, at this moment. They are beat down and weakened and easily led. But that's going to stop. That's going to change. That's not going to be the case very much longer and if you won't listen, there will be problems. I'm not saying it to scare you."

Mother barked a bitter laugh. "Yeah. Right."

Wolf shrugged. "Fine, maybe I am a little. Because maybe if you're actually scared you'll start to understand what I'm saying. Look, people love their leader. They also hate their leader. You will do something that you have to do, something only you understand needs doing, something they can't or won't do for themselves, and they'll hate it. They'll blindly ignore the facts and turn all their sadness and frustration and anger towards you."

Mother didn't want to listen. She wanted to stick her fingers in her ear and say "la la la" until Wolf stopped talking. She didn't want to think her people could ever be angry with her, and certainly not angry enough to want to hurt her. She didn't want to think like that. But common sense told her Wolf was right. Oh, he was way too dramatic about it all. She was absolutely certain there would never be some mysterious spy-ninja plot to slip in through the tiny basement windows and slit her throat in the middle of the night. That just wasn't going to happen. Still, as uncomfortable as it was to acknowledge, she would piss people off.

"I said you could do what you needed to with the house," she said tiredly. "We don't have to argue. Do what you want."

Wolf counted to ten in his head to make sure he could speak calmly. "I have been, and I will keep fortifying it. I'm not nearly as concerned with the house as I am with you. You still haven't made time for me to teach you how to shoot."

Mother rolled her eyes and stood to get more coffee. "Made time, he says," she said aloud to herself. "As if I can just 'make' time!" She poured the coffee then turned and leaned against the counter. "I don't have any time to make, Wolf."

"You make time for your nightly showers."

She laughed. "I have to be clean."

"For a half hour?"

Her face burned. It was indulgent to spend so long in the shower, and she knew it. "It's the only half hour I get in the day."

In all fairness, Wolf couldn't disagree. She barely even slept all week. "Ten minutes," he offered as a compromise. "Give me ten minutes a day to train you."

"Train me. Like a dog."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Are you going to take issue with everything I say tonight? Because I can leave. I'll walk out and pack my stuff and let you deal with all this yourself." Mother was silent but he could see the fire simmer in her eyes. Good. When she was angry, she thought with more clarity. He pressed his advantage. "Let me teach you some basic defense skills. Blocks. Holds. How to get out of a bad situation."

"How to shoot and kill people."

Wolf didn't like the judgment he heard in her voice, but he knew time would take care of that. She wouldn't believe in the necessity until she lived it. He just had to make sure when that time came, she did what she had to and made it through in one piece. He needed to make sure she'd be alive to hear his I-told-you-so. "Yes. To shoot and kill people when you have to."

She shook her head and assessed the man in front of her. "You must have lead one cold life, Wolf." To her surprise, his cheeks turned red.

"The life I lead meant I learned fast. What you have here is the start of something big."

"I think it's a little premature to celebrate."

"I'll never celebrate that fact," he said in all seriousness. "The more successful you are, the harder my job becomes. And you are the only one that can make any of it easier."

She bit her bottom lip and thought about that. Wolf didn't want her to succeed. And yet, he helped her do just that. He wasn't in it for himself. He had nothing to gain by lying to her. She couldn't figure him out, and had already wasted too much time trying. She gave in. "Fine. Teach me to be a ninja, master."

Wolf gave her a bland look. "You could never be a ninja."

The air was lighter. Their arguing was over. She put her hand to her chest in mock outrage. "You would question my ninjability?"

"Ninjability's not a word."

"Ninjaness?" He shook his head. "Well I can be a ninja if I want to, no matter what it's called."

"Nope. Sorry. You'd never be able to be on a ninja mission without humming your own theme song."

Mother threw her head back and laughed. He had a good point. A very, very good point. "I don't hum all that much."

"Constantly. I swear you have a ditty for every task."

She shrugged and rinsed out her cup, feeling very much better for clearing the air. "So when do we start our training?"

Mother didn't even have time to register the sound of chair legs scraping the floor before Wolf had her trapped, one arm firmly around her waist, the other twisting up around the back of her head and holding her in a headlock. She gasped and wriggled, and he tightened his hold.

"Come on," Wolf said calmly. "Break free."

Her heart slammed in her chest and she could hardly get past the icy grip of fear. "I can't!" _It's just Wolf,_ she told herself. _He won't hurt me_ , her mind begged her to believe. Would he?

"Take a breath. Stop blindly lashing out and consider the situation." Every time she moved, Wolf tightened his hold. He knew he had to be hurting her, but she needed this. She needed to learn. She needed to know that she could reach the point of panic, pain, and fear, and rise above it. "Stop struggling right now," he commanded.

Mother swallowed her cry and listened. She stopped struggling. "Okay," she said weakly. His hands tightened even more. "You're hurting me!" she gasped.

Wolf clenched his jaw, shutting off the emotion that bubbled up with her words. "Does it make you angry?"

"Yes!" she yelled, struggling against his hold with renewed fervor.

"Good!" he said in her ear. "Get mad. Get so mad you can see everything clearly. Get mad at the hand pressing on the back of your neck and the arm around your middle. Think of them. Think of their weak spots."

Mother struggled blindly for another few seconds before she listened to his words. The arm around her head could snap her neck if she moved wrong. The thought stopped her and she stood still.

"Think," Wolf said firmly. "Think of where you can hit me."

She tried to pull to the left, since it was his right arm around her waist.

"Good idea, but if you do that, your neck's toast." His words were encouraging, but he didn't let up. His muscles felt like bands of steel around her and she had a fleeting thought that it was hopeless. "Where are your arms?"

"Pinned," she spat out angrily.

"No. The upper arms are pinned. You can move from your elbows down."

"So?"

Wolf both liked and hated the venom in her voice. He wished he didn't have to be the one to do this. But, he did. He always did. "You can grab my hand."

Mother grabbed his hand and pulled, but that did nothing. The frustration threatened to make her cry and she stomped her foot. It accidentally came down hard on his and Wolf flinched, his arms easing up, just for the fraction of a second. It was enough. She seized the advantage and twisted her head free. Acting on instinct, she dropped down when he tried to grab her again and he grabbed at air. She hit the floor and quickly rolled away. When she was on her stomach a good distance away from Wolf, she pushed off the floor and stood in a crouch, panting and waiting.

There were angry red marks on her neck. Wolf swallowed hard. Her eyes were bright with bitter tears and her cheeks were flushed. She stood panting and waiting for him to attack her again. _I didn't attack you_ , he wanted to scream. _I would never hurt you_ , he wanted to tell her. But of course he couldn't. He needed Mother to think that he could, he needed her to feel, at least on some level, like he really would snap and she really would have to defend herself against him. If she knew she was in no danger, she wouldn't fight as hard. He hated it. He felt the wave of self-revulsion ripple through him and tamped it down as he always had.

"Good job," Wolf said in a raspy voice. He cleared his throat and tried for levity. "You didn't even hum a theme song. I'm impressed." He leaned back against the counter and tried to look as relaxed as possible, tried to convey with body language that they were done the first lesson and she was safe for the moment.

Mother knew she was seconds from tears. She felt angry. Betrayed. There was a terrified little voice that was still screaming even though she was clearly out of danger. It was her first lesson. Of course he wouldn't have made it easy. "You didn't say we were starting," she said through clenched teeth, still breathing hard and electrified with adrenaline.

Wolf put his hands up. "No one's going to warn you before they attack."

Mother scoffed. "So you plan on doing this all the time?" She ran a shaky hand through her hair and stood up straight, her body still on alert. "Thanks. I'll pass."

"You did well," he said simply.

"I mean it, Wolf. I can't do this. I hate being startled."

He hated startling her. They couldn't get what they wanted, either of them. "It's the best way. You want to be the best. This is how it's going to happen."

A tear rolled down her cheek and she made a strangled little noise. "So you're just going to...going to...waylay me in front of anyone whenever and wherever you want?"

Wolf felt like a bastard as he watched the tear make its way down her neck. One tear. That's all she allowed to fall. Wasn't one tear always the worst? He sighed heavily, pushing the feelings deep inside in that cold, dark, lonely place. "No," he said. "I promise I will never do it in front of other people. That would undermine your authority." _And humiliate you_ , he wanted to add, _and I will never do that_.

Mother stared at him for a few more seconds. She felt a hate in her she'd never felt before, and she didn't want to hate him. She didn't want him to be right. "It's been a long day," she said with as much pride as she could muster, "And tomorrow's going to be worse."

Wolf nodded and watched Mother pass. He wanted to reach out and hold her and apologize. He watched her walk down the hall and had to steel himself from flinching with the final look she cast him before she opened the door and went to her basement apartment. God damn he felt low. He looked at the clock, knowing it didn't matter how late it was. He wouldn't sleep that night. He put his coat on and stepped out into the cold for a smoke. The bitterness outside matched the bitterness within, but it wasn't enough. The icy night air wasn't cleansing. The smoke burned on its way down, but that wasn't enough, either. They were minor discomforts compared to the torture his mind was putting him through.

He actually put marks on her neck.

"Fuck!" Wolf yelled into the night as he angrily flicked away his cigarette. He glanced to the barn. All was silent, and he was sure the town was asleep. It was a clear night, and he'd have many hours left in his private hell. He looked down the hill at the town below. One glance back at the house, where he knew that if she wasn't sleeping, she was at least feeling safer in her own space, and he started down the hill. There had to be a fucking liquor store somewhere. He'd even drink warm, stale beer. He needed oblivion. Sometimes he just needed it.

The next morning dawned bright and clear and warm. "January thaw," Gus said over and over, even though it was already the first week of February.

Mother squinted in the sun and wondered if she could do without the heavy jacket as she pulled on her gloves. They were gathered in the driveway, she, Eve, Gus, Chuck, and a very silent and barely moving Wolf. She couldn't even look at him. She had no idea what to say. She pulled the sweater up on her neck self-consciously, trying to hide the bruises. If anyone noticed there was something weird in the air, they didn't say anything.

Mother had made the decision that morning to accept Wolf's training and hope he didn't kill her. She reasoned that if his goal had been her death, it would have happened already. In fact, it probably would have happened before she ever knew he existed. After his swift and stunning attack, she had no doubt he could be a silent killer. Maybe he was, though she didn't really think that fit. He was focused on training her, on security. Maybe he was a secret service man before. She wished she could tell him she understood, that she didn't blame him, that after hours of sleepless thought, she could understand where he was coming from. But in the light of day, the words that felt so easy to her in the safe darkness of her room would not come out.

Instead, Mother decided to go ahead with the cleaning plan. It was Chuck who had set her straight. As she hoped and feared, Chuck had been overjoyed to be asked to assist with what he considered a noble and sacred task. "But we can't just rush in there with brooms and mops," he had pointed out, while rubbing his hands together in an eerie manner. "It's going to be messy. So very messy." He smiled. Mother shuddered.

"What do you think we should do, then?"

He hadn't even paused. "First, we need to assess how many houses we need cleaned. Then we need to take a head count. After that, we'll need hazmat suits and gear, tarps, and a dump truck." He had said it all in a rush.

"Wow. You've given this a lot of thought, Chuck," Mother had said uncomfortably.

"Mother of mine, I take the last death to heart," he said very seriously. "These people have left their mortal casings in our hands. It's a noble task to see them off."

Though entirely creepy, his words had struck a chord. "Yes," she said after a moment's thought. "I suppose it really is. Besides, we can't rebuild until they are gone."

"But," Chuck said, holding his finger up suddenly. "We also need a plan on what to do with the dearly departed remains."

"You didn't get that far?"

His face spread into a wide, toothy, skeleton-like grin. "Oh, I know what I would do with them. But Mr. Wolfie assures me that you would not have the same inklings. As it's not my town, alas, I must defer to your authority." He bowed, and it became clear to Mother that although he was perhaps the most unusual man she had ever met, he held a deep respect for her authority. She decided then and there to overlook his less than savory qualities and appreciate him anyway.

"Well, we don't have to decide that today, do we?" Mother asked. "For today, let's just get a feel for the task at hand." Chuck agreed and after breakfast, they all met in the barn yard. Some of the other people heard what they were doing. One lady asked to join, but Mother told her they had enough for the day. She assured the woman that she could participate in the actual clean out if she still felt like it, and had Eve note the woman's name.

"Are we ready to do this?" Mother asked the small group. Everyone was. They piled into a van Gus had taken from a house in town. Gus drove, Eve sat in the front, Chuck took up the middle bench by himself, and Wolf had Mother sit with him in the back bench.

"Never have people behind you if you can help it," Wolf said, quietly. It was the first thing he said to her all morning. He wore a black trench coat and dark, mirrored sunglasses. She wanted to ask where he found them, but let it go.

"Were you out drinking all night?" Mother asked when the smell of old alcohol wafted off his breath. When Wolf didn't answer, she poked him with her elbow. "Did you hear me?"

"I'm over twenty one. It's not against the law."

She looked at him for a minute and decided not to argue. "You want to stay here and sleep it off?"

"Nope."

He still wouldn't look at her, and it struck Mother that maybe it wasn't easy on him, either. She'd have to give idea some serious thought when she had time. The van was pulling into the first neighborhood she had chosen, and they had work to do. If Wolf wanted to do this kind of work hungover, she wasn't about to stop him. She had a sore neck, he could have his own uncomfortable day. "Pull over here, Gus," she instructed. Gus pulled the van up the the edge of the plowed street and turned it off. They got out and looked up and down the street.

"I picked this neighborhood first because there are fourteen houses. I think we can break people up into groups for now. Get these cleared, assign roomies, and go from there. At least they'll have some elbow room that way. Sound good?" The group agreed. It wouldn't have mattered if they didn't agree, that was the plan. Mother was almost proud of herself with that realization. They all could have stomped their feet and thrown temper tantrums, and she still would have pushed forward how she wanted. She turned to Wolf, hoping he caught that insight, but he looked the other way. She sighed. "Right. Let's go."

The neighborhood was one of middle class prosperity before everyone in it died. The houses were all on the same sized lots, with little fences between them, and perfect driveways somewhere under all that snow. It was a neighborhood that people probably waited to get into, one that made some billionaire developer another couple million to add to the heap in the vault. The houses all had little touches of individuality, though their concept and layouts would be basically the same. One was white, one was yellow with white trim, one was blue with shutters, one was green with old fashioned slat blinds. All the same, but just different enough to make the buyer feel special, feel unique. The road was called Hummingbird Way, and it went straight down to a cul de sac at the end. Mother knew that it was the kind of neighborhood she never could have afforded when there were other people demanding she pay bills. It struck her as funny that these houses were all hers now, and she told the group that as they walked through the snow across the lawn of the first house.

"And all for the low, low price of biohazard cleaning," Mother said with a grin. The joke was funny to her, but only Chuck laughed. Eve looked horrified, Gus looked uncomfortable, and Wolf looked away. She sighed. "Well, it was funny in my head."

They reached the porch and the rest hung back while Mother stepped to the door. She tried it, and, not surprisingly, it was locked. She turned around to go look for a back door when Wolf stepped up and smashed out the beautiful pane of decorative glass and reached his hand through.

"Thanks," Mother said, wishing she had another excuse to delay. She could already smell death coming from behind broken door. She took a deep breath and pulled her shirt up over her nose. They would definitely have to get masks. "Gas masks," she said to Eve.

"What?" Eve asked. She was standing as far from the door as she could get and still be on the porch.

Mother looked at her, really looked at her for the first time that day. She'd been growing stronger rapidly over the week, but was suddenly very pale again. It occurred to Mother that she'd never offered Eve an out. She never gave Eve the choice to be on this particular mission. She swore to herself and promised to make it right later. "Please make a note that we need gas masks," she called.

Eve nodded and pulled out her little notebook.

"You all stay back here and let me see what we're dealing with."

"Can I come?" asked Chuck, hopefully.

"No. Not yet. Let me get a look first." She saw Wolf give her a little nod. Without any other way to stall, she turned and pushed open the door and forced her legs to move forward into the house. When she was a few steps in, she heard the door close behind her and turned around. Wolf was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest.

"You don't have to be in here," Mother mumbled through the shirt over her mouth. He shrugged, and she was grateful for his presence. She turned around and scanned the room. A living room, empty. The heat was on, and it was ridiculously hot. She scanned the wall for a thermostat. "I think I'll turn the heat down."

"Turn it off," Wolf said.

"Completely?"

"They're baking. Shut it off."

The instant mental image of people literally baking flashed through her mind, and Mother gagged. She stopped herself from losing her breakfast, but just barely. She put a hand to the wall and slowed her breathing until she was sure her stomach was solid. She turned the heat off and made a mental note to do the same in all the houses. She turned to the windows and considered opening them. It was so god damned stuffy and smelly that she could barely think. She opened the window and felt the fresh air enter the room for the first time in months. She turned from the living room and searched the rest of the downstairs. The further she got from the stair case, the less it smelled. They were upstairs, whoever "they" used to be.

Mother paused at the bottom of the stairs to gather her nerve. "I got this," she whispered as she took the first step. "I got this," she said louder when she took the next. And she kept saying it until she was at the top of the stairs and almost believing the words. Her eyes watered with the smell. Every ancient instinct in her body said to run, to save herself. She wished she could obey, or at least make the internal war easier as she ignored the panic and took one step after another.

There were three bedrooms. She could see the daylight stream from the open doorways into the hall. Three bedrooms and one dark room at the end of the hall she assumed was a bathroom. There were three rooms to check. Only three. "I got this," she mumbled.

Mother was shaking by the time she found the first body. It was a man. Maybe? Maybe it used to be a man. He was bloated and rotting and there was a puddle of the components of his former self soaking into the bed underneath. She stared at it in morbid fascination and mortal horror. She would have to face him. She would have to _touch_ him. She would have to find some way to force her own hands to take this dead corpse and get rid of it. She had to. And yet, she couldn't make herself walk through the doorway.

"Are you making a list?" Wolf asked, making her jump. Mother didn't know he followed her up.

"List?" Her mind was utterly blank. She couldn't think. She couldn't think with the rotted gore of a person decomposing right in front of her.

"Your list," he said calmly, "of what this is going to entail."

She swallowed. Yes. Her list. That's what she was doing in there. "I...we'll need to...get him out."

"Not him," Wolf said, knowing he had to put his own inner demons aside and help Mother deal with hers. "He's gone. Whoever he was before is gone."

Wolf was speaking so calmly, so firmly. He wasn't panicking. He wasn't freaking out. It made Mother feel a little less like she was drowning. "Yes."

"He's gone. That's not a person. That's rind. A husk."

She shuddered. "Not helping."

"Then...a shell casing. He's spent, the bullet's gone, and he's just a shell."

A shell. A shell. Mother slowly nodded. "A shell," she said out loud, testing. "Yes. He's a shell."

_Good_ , Wolf thought. _Very, very good_. "Now, how do we clean up the shells?"

Mother swallowed again and forced her mind to think. He was rotting. No, _it_ was rotting. _It_. The _shell_. The shell was rotting. If they grabbed it, it would fall to pieces. They had to wrap it. "We need tarps like Chuck said." She looked around. "The bed's shit. We can't leave that."

"Good call."

"Beds." She thought about the people she stole the truck from. They didn't die in beds. "Couches, chairs. Anything people died on...anything a shell is on, we've got to get it out." She turned to look at Wolf uncertainly. "Right?"

He nodded. "Right."

"It's going to leave a lot of empty rooms."

"We can find more stuff."

Mother nodded and turned back. "I don't know how we can get the smell out. Clean, I guess. That's going to take forever." She thought for a minute, finding it easier and easier to ignore the rotting corpse and focus on the job ahead. "We could have a team that removes the shells, then another that comes in behind for cleaning." She stepped closer to get a better look at the wall near the bed. It appeared to be stained. They'd have to try and clean it. They couldn't cut the walls out of every room. Satisfied that she had a plan for this room, she moved down the hall to the next. Thankfully it was empty. The last room revealed to pets, dogs, cats maybe? Two pets died in pet beds on the floor. "I never thought of pets," she said more to herself than anyone else.

They walked slowly out of the house and it took a minute before her mind kicked back into normal gear and she realized people were asking her questions. "What?" Mother said, snapping out of it.

"How many?" asked Chuck, his eyes the only ones that looked eager.

"One. And two pets."

"Huh?"

Mother pulled the shirt down and uncovered her mouth. Her body automatically took a deep pull of the blessedly fresh, cold air. She gulped it in and closed her eyes. God, the sweetness was heaven. She didn't notice the odd looks the others gave her, especially Eve. Wolf frowned. She needed to be more aware of how she came off to others. He cleared his throat to give her a signal. She stopped taking deep breaths and opened her eyes. "Oh. Right. One shell, two pets."

"Shell?" asked Eve.

"Bodies," said Gus, in his most understanding voice.

Eve blanched, but wrote a one in her little notebook. "Do we really have to do this for all these houses?" she asked.

Mother gave a nod and marched off the porch, then through their tracks in the snow, her mind starting to sort out the logistics. Okay, so they'd need to get tarps, protective clothing, masks, gloves, the works. They come back here with the tarp and somehow wrap the shells. They'd muscle out the rolled up mess, then pull out furniture. Then they'd open the windows, give it some time to air out, and send in a crew to scrub. It was gross, but doable. They could do it. They really didn't have a choice.

"Next house," she called over her shoulder as she trudged to the neighbor's.

And so the day progressed. As Mother saw new problems, she'd discuss it with her people on the porches or when they were taking warm up breaks in the van. She never let them enter, and Chuck wondered why he was even there. "You can go home if you want," she told him. He stayed, and every time he caught the scent of death when Mother opened the doors, he was glad he didn't give up in and leave. There were people inside, waiting for him. He just had to wait a little longer. He had to be patient.

There was a rough patch in the late afternoon when Mother was tired and overwhelmed and came upon the first body of a baby. She couldn't stop the heaving sobs, and as Wolf stood back and watched, he wondered if she even knew she made the sounds. She gripped the crib and shook with bitterness and disgust and anger, raging about the waste of the future and the unfairness of it all. Wolf just let her get it out. He was surprised it had taken so long for her to vent. Mother ended her rant with a final, gut-wrenching sob, then stood to catch her breath. By the time she turned to Wolf, she was visibly calm. She could present herself in front of the rest and they'd buy it. He knew he'd have to watch her later, though. The face of a leader that was presented in public was only a mask. Over and over he'd seen that proven. He'd definitely have to watch her later.

By the time they rolled up the hill, the smells of the evening meal being cooked hung in the air. "Who's cooking?" Wolf asked.

"Janice and Coraline," Eve answered. She was shuffling through the notes she'd been making all day, trying to get them in order for the meeting she believed they'd have after dinner.

Wolf turned to Mother with a scowl on his face. "You didn't clear them to be cooking food."

"Not tonight," she said quietly.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I will not deal with your security bullshit tonight." Her words were solid, cold, and firm, and Wolf was proud. "They needed to eat today," Mother continued. "And we were just a little busy. Someone had to do it and I trust Janice and Coraline. Even if Coraline's a bitch, I don't think she'd ever do anything to hurt people. So yes, I allowed them to get the food I selected for the meals, and yes, I allowed them to cook it. You got a problem with that?" Her voice pitched high, like she was on the verge of snapping.

Wolf knew he had to tread lightly. He gave a little shrug. "I told you. Your town, your call. Do what you have to."

Mother looked like she was ready to slap him. The van pulled up and parked in the lot, and the jarring stop took her attention off Wolf. She numbly got out and walked up towards the house. Wolf took out the bottle of aspirin he had swiped from one of the houses and popped a few pills into his mouth. He crunched them down and took a deep breath before heading in after her.

Janice and Coraline were chatting in the kitchen with Steve, Mack, and Cindy when Wolf entered. Mother was simply standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching. Her mouth was clenched shut and Wolf could see the muscles of the jaw tick. Clearly she was angry. It had only been a week, but already he knew when she was about to blow. Good. She needed to blow. He slid his hand to the hilt of the knife at his belt in case there was trouble, but stood back to see what she'd do.

"Why is there a party going on in my house?" Mother snapped at the group.

Like teenagers caught in the act when their parents returned home early from work, the group stopped talking and spun as one to look at Mother, eyes wide and scared at her tone.

"Mother!" said Janice, putting the spoon down. "You're back! Just in time, too. Dinner's almost ready."

Mother was in no mood for Janice's perkiness. "Why are there other people in this house?" She demanded.

Janice looked to Steve, Mack, and Cindy. They were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee. Mother saw that there was a box of crackers open on the table between them and her anger turned to outrage. She pushed past Janice and snatched up the box.

"Snacks?" She turned to Steve. "You were in here eating snacks?"

"I...we just..." Steve swallowed hard. "We came in to see if the ladies needed help cooking and...we..."

"I gave him the crackers," said Coraline.

Mother whipped around to face her. Coraline stood with her hand on her hip, a challenging look in her eyes. "What gives you the right to give away our food?"

Coraline rolled her eyes. "It was one fucking box of crackers."

Something in Mother snapped. Something that had wound tight through the day finally released and she couldn't stop herself from slapping the look right off Coraline's face. There was a collective gasp from the crowd as Coraline reared back and covered the burning hand print on her cheek. "Don't you get it?" Mother bellowed. "One fucking box of crackers can mean life or death!"

Tears pooled in Coraline's eyes. "It's one box. One god damned box. If our survival comes down to one stupid box of fucking crackers then we would have been better off at Walmart."

Mother felt the scream bubble up inside and she tried to tamp it down. "You miss Walmart? You miss wallowing in your own filth?" She stepped back and pointed to the back door. "There's the door. Be my guest." She turned and grabbed a case of vegetables the women had been working on opening and thrust it at Coraline. "Here. Take this with you. Take this and get the fuck out if that's what you want!"

Coraline could not move. No one could move. They sat or stood uncomfortably, wondering how their pleasant afternoon turned sour so fast. When Coraline wouldn't take the food, Mother slammed it down on the counter and ran a shaking hand through her hair. She was madder than she'd ever been in her life and she hated it. She hated herself for caving and making such a scene.

"Today I had to go through houses," Mother said carefully, every word clear and deliberate. "I had to take a count of the dead bodies that I will have to remove to give all of you a place to live." They knew it, of course. It had been announced at breakfast. But she bet they had no idea what it all really meant. "I had to look at rotting people." She looked Coraline in the eye, and Coraline found she couldn't look away. "I spent my day figuring out how I am going to get rid of forty rotting, festering people so that you can have a home." She pointed to Coraline, then turned to the others and pointed in turn. "And you, and you, and you, and you."

"We didn't mean..." Janice began.

But Mother wouldn't have it. "I told you and Coraline to cook tonight. That was your job. I did not tell you to have friends over for a party and snacks while I was mucking around in dead people all day!"

The sound of the stew bubbling was the only thing that filled the silence for the next few moments as they took in what Mother was saying, and Mother tried to calm herself down. When she could speak without shouting, she ordered Steve, Mack and Cindy to leave, then told Eve to stop eavesdropping and get in to finish the meal. She told Coraline and Janice to have a seat at the table, then got herself a coffee just to make sure she could speak without biting their heads off.

"Do you understand why I'm so angry?" she asked. She'd get no cooperation from Coraline. The tears in her eyes were definitely from anger and she still held her hand over the slap mark. Mother regretted losing her cool that badly. She'd have to try and make it up to Coraline sometime, but not right then. Right then Coraline didn't need an apology, she needed an explanation so she would have an understanding of why it really was a big deal to make their own agendas.

Mother decided to sit. She folded her hands in front of her on the table and looked at the women. "I asked the two of you to cook tonight. I gave you specific instructions on what to cook, how many cans of food to open, and how much to serve. I told both of you that you two were the only ones to be allowed in the kitchen or the store room, and yet I come home and you're handing out snack to buddies. Can you understand why I'm upset?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Janice. She truly did look contrite.

"There was an entire room of crackers," Coraline said angrily. "You can't spare one for people who are working hard?"

Mother felt like lunging across the table and slapping the woman again. She felt Wolf move to stand behind her. For some reason, the backup helped her reign it in. She took a breath and then answered. "No. The simple answer is no."

Coraline scoffed. "So you're just hoarding it all for yourself."

"No," said Mother firmly. "I hoarded it all for you. And I counted the food and tallied every single box." She turned to Eve. "Get me the notebook." Eve put the spoon down then opened a drawer and pulled the food stores notebook out. When she handed it over, Mother thanked her and put the notebook in the middle of the table.

"Here," she said. "Take a look if you want. That's every known food item in town. And if you'll flip it open to the front cover, you'll see where we spent a long night going over the numbers and crunching figures. Do the math. It only looks like so much because it's all in a small room. But look at the kitchen counter. That one case of food is going to go tonight. Actually more when you add in the six cans of beef chunks for the stew. A case and a half for one meal. One meal. All that gone." Mother shoved the notebook towards Coraline. She didn't have to sell Janice. Janice was openly sniffling, and Mother had no doubt that in the future, Janice would do exactly what she was told and only that. It was Coraline she needed to convince.

"I don't need to look at your math," Coraline grumbled.

Mother flipped the lid open. "Look at it," she demanded, tapping the number under a long column of figures. "Look at that right there. What does that say?" Coraline didn't look. She crossed her arms over her chest and turned her head away. "Stop being a fucking baby for once and listen! That right there is how many days we have. If we keep eating at this rate and can't get more food, that's how many days we have. How many does it say?"

"Thirty-four," said Janice. "Oh, god!"

"Thirty-four. Sixty-eight if we cut the rations in half, about a hundred if we go with the bare minimum needed for survival." Janice let out a moan, but Mother's attention was firmly on Coraline. "So yes, one box of crackers is a big deal."

"That's not all the food in the world, you know," Coraline said.

"Nope. Sure isn't, and if this weather can hold, we'll get more."

"Oh thank god!" said Janice.

"But that'll run out, too, and faster than we want it to. Every bit of food has to be counted and shared."

Coraline scoffed. "Commie."

Was it communistic? Could it be helped? Mother sighed. "Whatever. My town, my rules. You don't like them, you can leave. I'll give you a head start too, just so you can't say I never did anything for you. So. You leaving?"

"No!" Janice said quickly.

Coraline didn't answer.

"As to the extra people in here, when you've got a job to do, you do it."

"They didn't have anything to do," Janice pointed out. "We didn't see the harm in having them sit at the table and chat. It's not like we weren't doing our work."

"Yeah," said Coraline, jumping on the bandwagon. "Are you saying we can't even talk while we work now?"

Mother wished Wolf would jump in with some of his safety talk, but he didn't. He stood behind her and let her run her town. She felt like giving him a good slap, too. "You're right. They had no work. I was letting people get used to being here and having good meals and getting strong again before I gave everyone jobs." It was a good lie and she loved how honest it sounded rolling off the tongue. In reality, she'd never given it much thought. Of course they were getting antsy. They sat around a barnyard all day. There was only so much snow to shovel, only so many times they could muck Phil's stall before he got fed up with their interference. "I'll make a work schedule. And people will stick to it. This is my house. In here, we hold the supplies for the entire town. I can't have people in here I don't know about."

"People are in all the time to use the bathroom," Coraline pointed out.

"Yes, and that's the only concession Wolf made to safety protocols. If he had his way, you'd all be shitting in the snow. Don't abuse the privilege." Mother looked the two women over. She was certain Janice took every word to heart, and even Coraline looked like she grudgingly understood. Coraline wasn't stupid. She may be hurt and angry in the moment, but she wasn't stupid. She'd think about what was said and see the reasoning behind Mother's outburst.

"Go to the barn and tell everyone it's almost dinner." The women rose without another word and left through the back door. As soon as it closed, Mother put her head forward to heavily drop it on the table. She took a deep breath and then another. God it was a long day.

"Dinner's ready, Mother," said Eve quietly.

"Serve it up. Wolf would you help carry it out?"

"Aren't you coming?" Eve asked.

"No."

"You need to eat," Wolf said firmly.

"Not tonight."

Eve opened her mouth to argue but Wolf gave a little shake of his head. Mother was close to completely losing it. There was a time to press an issue, and then there was a time to let it go. He'd let this one go. He nodded toward the door and picked up the large stew pot. They left Mother with her head on the table.

As soon as she heard the door shut, the overwhelming urge to run away hit and Mother rose and walked with purpose to the far door. She opened the door and stepped out into the cool evening, then strode off the porch and started down the road. She didn't know where she was going. The need to flee was just too much to ignore, too great to fight, and she let her subconscious control her steps. One foot in front of the other, get away. One foot in front of the other, leave them behind. One foot in front of the other to freedom. She heard the rumble of the truck and had a fleeting thought to run. She stopped, defeated. She couldn't get away.

"Want a ride?" Wolf asked as he pulled up, surprised at how far she got so fast.

Mother took a deep breath and turned. Tears were streaming down her face and she didn't even know it. "Can we go to Tahiti?"

He gave a nod. "Yup."

Mother studied him for a second. He wasn't joking. "You'd really take me to Tahiti, after forcing all these people on me?"

"I didn't force anything on you. You wanted all of this. And yes, I'd take you in a heartbeat if I didn't think you'd hate me for it a day later." Wolf leaned over and opened the passenger's side door. "Come on. Let's go for a little drive and it'll clear your head."

Mother sighed and got in. She slammed the door and leaned against the window to watch the darkening town as Wolf drove aimlessly through the freshly plowed streets. "They got a lot done," Mother said after awhile.

"Yes, but we're running low on gas."

"Already?"

"Yup."

She sighed heavily, another stone added to the weight on her shoulders. "Of course we are. We're running out of gas. We're running out of food. We're running out of patience."

"Is this a 'poor me' session?"

Mother snorted. "Haven't I earned one?"

"I told you I'm not a shrink."

He had. "Fine. But I'm at least going to brood." She reached over and snapped on the radio, then flipped through the stations. There was nothing but static. "Why do you suppose the radio doesn't work?"

"You'd probably find some stations that still do. Some of the newer ones are pretty automated," Wolf explained. "Might run the same two or three hour loop over and over."

Mother didn't find any working stations, then opened the truck's glove compartment to look for CDs. There were a couple, and she selected Hot Hits of the 80's. "This will be a blast from the past for you," she said, popping one in. When the first song came on, she leaned back and let the music help her mind empty.

They drove around all the plowed streets, then did it again. Seven songs. They could get through seven whole songs before they traveled the same road again. It seemed like a good sized town to her. "We're wasting gas," Mother said eventually.

"Yup."

"We should head back."

"Are you ready?"

She looked at Wolf's face in the glow of the dashboard. He was tired. She could see the bags under his eyes, and remembered the state he showed up to the barn in that morning. "Are you going to make it a habit of drinking all night?"

His jaw clenched. "Nope."

"I'm not mad," she said simply.

Wolf's hands tightened on the steering wheel. "I said I won't do that again."

"No. I meant about last night. I get it."

Wolf wanted her mad. He wanted her to be as pissed at him as he was. "I'm going to do it again."

Mother nodded. "I know." She turned her head to watch the neighborhoods pass. Houses she'd have to clean. More bodies to tally and drag away. It suddenly occurred to her they didn't have a plan. Take the bodies out, and then what? The acid of the coffee in her stomach gurgled and burned. Shit. She'd have to decide what to do with them all. "Just don't do it tonight," she asked quietly.

Wolf cleared his throat against the well of unwanted emotion. "I won't," he promised. He turned the truck up the road to the house and wished he hadn't promised her he wouldn't go out drinking. He didn't remember much about the previous night after he found the liquor store. He didn't remember what he drank, didn't remember how he found a leather trench coat or where he got the expensive sunglasses. He didn't remember much, and that was amazing. He rarely let himself succumb to base desires, and getting smashed certainly fell into that category. It was wonderful. Heavenly, if he believed in such things. And he wouldn't let it happen again.

But wouldn't it be nice if he could?

Chapter 8

Mother's hands shook inside the thick gloves. Two days of planning and they were finally back at the first house to clean. The first shell, the maybe man who was bloated beyond recognition, lay before her in a gelatinous mass of former-humanity. Chuck, Wolf, and Cindy were with her, Gus waited outside in the dump truck. They all wore hazmat suits, rebreather masks, gloves, and large rubber boots over their shoes. There was a stack of new plastic tarps freshly opened from the hardware store, and rope in case they needed to tie the rot up into a morbid burrito. She was secure in the knowledge that the rest of the town now had assigned jobs and something to do during the long day, and felt confident that her orders would be carried out by Eve who stayed to oversee it all. They were as prepared as they were going to be.

Mother looked at the mass in front of her. She could hear the raspy breaths through the masks of the others. Chuck was breathing hard in excitement and she wondered if he knew he made little noises. It chilled her, his eagerness. Cindy didn't look that upset, either, though her interest seemed to be from more of a scientific standpoint. She was a trained forensic assistant. She'd seen murdered bodies for years. Mother had to wonder if she'd ever seen anything like this, but didn't ask. It was a stupid question. No one had ever seen anything "like this".

"Okay," Mother said, glad that her voice didn't shake as much as her hands. "How do we do this?"

Chuck stepped forward towards the body quickly, as if he was just waiting for permission. "He's so peaceful," he said, his voice filled with an awe that made her shiver.

"Yes. Now. How do we get Captain Peaceful out of here?"

"I believe if we lay the tarp on the floor, we can roll the victim off the the bed," said Cindy, motioning with her hands.

"He's not a victim," Mother said absently as she considered Cindy's advice. Yes. It would work. "Shells. They're shells." She bent down and picked up a tarp, then snapped it out and gave it a shake to open the factory pressed folds. Wolf took the other side and they laid it on the floor as close to the bed as possible.

Chuck stroked the hair of the man-thing.

"Chuck, stop groping the shells," Mother said, trying to keep the disgust out of her voice.

"May I have permission to guide him to his plastic casket?"

Chuck was so damned weird. Mother looked to Wolf, who gave a little shrug. "Uh, sure."

"This amount of decomp may make your plan a little difficult," Cindy said, leaning over the body to assess. She pointed to a section of abdomen that had split open from the sores. "It'll take two. Chuck, you pull from up top and I'll try and match your speed with the legs. If you don't mind," she added, looking to Mother.

"Be my guest."

"I will name him Harold," said Chuck, gently placing his hands around the large body.

"Don't name them," Mother ordered.

"But..."

"No." On that point, she would not budge. Naming them would make them people, and they were not people. They were shells. They had to all be nothing more than shells.

Chuck decided to keep the names to himself. This man was Harold, and he would help him leave. "Are you ready, fair Cindy?"

"On the count of three."

They counted. They pulled. Cindy's prediction turned out to be correct and the body splatted to the tarp below in pieces and with much left behind and splashed around. Mother and Wolf jumped back, but some of the guy got on them anyway. The revulsion clawed inside Mother and she turned to Wolf for reassurance. His face was pale behind his mask and she got no comfort from that camp. She turned back to look at the others. Chuck was picking pieces off the bed to add to the tarp, but Cindy was stunned. She stood there looking at the legs she still held, hunched over and frozen in horror. It gave Mother a focus.

"Cindy, let go of the legs and step back." Cindy turned her wide eyes to Mother. "Let go," Mother said again, more firmly, feeling the riot of panic begin to recede. Cindy looked down at her hands and then let go. The feet dropped to the tarp and Cindy jumped back. "Good," said Mother calmly. "Good girl. Now, let's get the rest and we'll roll this up.

They pulled the sheet from the mattress and piled it up on top of their first poorly handled carcass. There was a little argument about how to roll it up, but in the end Chuck's suggestion of folding the flaps over the end first won out. It stood the best chance of keeping the bits in. They wrapped rope around the whole deal, then stepped out of the room into the hall, both to discuss how they would remove the body, and to get a second away from their ghastly detail.

The former person wasn't skinny. It was no supermodel skeleton they had to handle. There was a significant amount of remains left behind, and they weighed far more than Mother would have guessed. It was all they could do to get the tarp to slide across the carpet. They wrapped more rope around and decided to try pulling it. Mother and Wolf pulled the ropes from the front, while Chuck and Cindy walked behind to make sure nothing fell out. At the top of the stairs, they decided to leave the package and roll out enough rope to stand at the bottom and tug. It was a good plan, or would have been if they didn't underestimate the force of a couple hundred pounds of dead weight. The body fell forward on the first tug, and Mother couldn't get out of the way fast enough. It plummeted down the stairs and landed right on her, pinning her to the floor.

"Are you hurt?" Wolf asked as he and Chuck pulled her out from under the human burrito.

Hurt, no. Horrified, definitely. Mother shook and shook. She knew she would never be able to forget the sound of it hitting her, the feeling of it cold, crinkly from the plastic, heavy and... Her stomach lurched. She turned without a word and forced her feet to walk, not run, out the door. She ripped her mask off and took a deep breath of fresh air. The scream welled inside again and she swallowed it down. It threatened once more. "No," she whispered. "No." She felt her body absorb the scream as it had so often over the past few months. Someday the scream would come out. "But not today," she said firmly.

One more deep breath, and she put her mask back on. She turned, not surprised to find Wolf right behind her. He quirked an eyebrow at her and she nodded, letting him know she was fine. They turned back to the task at hand and soon had the body outside on the porch. All they had to do was get it into the dump truck, and the first horrible removal would be done.

"Guess we didn't think this part through," said Gus as they all stood and looked from the ghoulish blue present to the top of the dump truck.

"Maybe we could make a hoist with a rope," offered Cindy.

Mother shook her head. "Where would we fasten it up there?"

"The back hatch opens," said Gus. "We get that open, and it's only what? Five feet?"

Mother sighed. Every day there was a list a mile long of things she hadn't thought about, hadn't planned for. "I guess we'll just have to muscle him up there."

"We should have just thrown him out the window," Wolf said.

Mother gasped. "We can't do that!"

"Why not?"

It was a very good question.

"Oh, I like the way the Wolfie thinks!" said Chuck, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "Back the truck up to the window and throw him over."

It was horrifying. But wasn't life horrifying? It was unthinkable. But weren't they already doing the unthinkable? "We can't just throw them out the window like..." she looked at the dump truck. Trash. She felt the icy jiggle of self-disgust deep in her guts.

"Let's just get this one done and worry about the next when we get there," said Gus. He could see that Mother was on the edge. Hell, they all looked like they were, all but Chuck, and that little fruit loop didn't count. Even Wolf looked pale. Gus knew he drew the long straw. All he had to do was drive. He couldn't imagine how soul-crushing it was for them, and he'd do his level best to make it as easy as possible on his end. "I'll back up here to the porch, and we'll just have to pick him up a little."

Wolf nodded his approval. Mother was still looking up at the second story windows. Chuck was squatting by the body patting the plastic, and Cindy was leaning against the porch post looking like she was going to vomit. Gus moved the truck back and pressed the button to open the hatch. He, Wolf, and Chuck moved before Mother could react and in just a few moments had the body secured in the truck. "That's that," said Gus, pleased it went so fast. "Next house?"

"No," said Mother, snapping to. "Now we have to redecorate."

Much to their chagrin, the tarp leaked. It had leaked the entire way, saturating the carpet with a slime trail of decomposing human. They stood at the bottom of the stairs as one and let their eyes follow the path all the way up.

"Fuck," said Mother. No one had anything else to contribute; that about summed it all up.

They took care of the obvious problem first: the bed. It didn't take long to get that out and into the truck. Mother looked away when they tossed it up and in, and winced when she heard the wood bounce off the crinkly plastic. _Not a person_ , she reminded herself. _A shell. We didn't just throw a bed on a person. We tossed more garbage on the shell. A shell_. She repeated it to herself as they struggled to rip up the carpet. It wasn't a person spread across the floor, it was a shell. A gross, disgusting, nasty shell. They weren't throwing away a life. They were throwing away a mess so new life could take over.

It took nearly an hour to rip the carpet out of the bedroom and they all leaned on the dump truck to catch their breaths. "We can't do this for every house," Mother said, taking off her mask to take a drink from her bottle of water. "It'll take forever."

"We can't possibly clean it enough to live in," said Cindy. "That kind of biological debris...we'd never get it clean enough. Not to mention the threat of disease. We have to trash it."

Mother sighed. She knew it, she was just trying to think of a faster way. "Well, we've got plenty more to do. I'm sure we'll get good at it eventually." They had more to do. So many, many more. She took a deep breath. "This next one has family upstairs. Maybe..." she swallowed hard, then forced herself to sound sure. "We'll back the truck up and do what Wolf suggested."

They managed to wrap the second body faster, and decided not to waste rope if they were just throwing it out the window. They opened the bedroom window. They looked down into the bed of the dump truck.

"That lined up okay?" Gus shouted up at them.

Mother gave a thumbs up, then told the group to get it done. They picked up the tarp-wrapped remains and, with surprisingly little effort, pushed it out the window. To Mother's horror, the tarp came off and separated, the body seeming to fall in slow motion, tumbling completely over in the air. The tarp wafted gently to the truck behind it.

"It's like a ballet," Chuck whispered with reverence.

A ballet. A morbid, terrifying ballet. "Come on," Mother said, her voice hoarse with self-hatred. "Time to get the next."

They managed to remove ten bodies from four houses. It wasn't nearly as far as Mother hoped to get in their first day, but it wasn't as bad a showing as it could have been. No one lost it. No one lost their cool. They all stuck with it, though she could now see ghosts in all their eyes for having to. The dump truck was parked in front of the fifth house, waiting for them to resume their job the next day. Gus trudged up the street to the van and brought it down to them. He held out a trash bag for their soiled gear. The disposable suits would be trashed with the bodies, the rebreathers and boots would be hosed down and then splashed with alcohol to make sure they wouldn't spread contamination. As they stripped, they actually took a minute to look down, to see the stains of the day on their clothing. Mother was so close to the edge that for one second, she thought she'd tip over. There were bits of people on her shoes. _Bits. Of. People_.

_Shells_ , her mind screamed. _Shells, shells, shells! Not people. The people were long gone. Shells._ It was garbage, nothing more. She stepped out of her boots and ignored the cold under her stocking feet as she lined them up with the others to be cleaned off. She pulled the hazmat suit off and tossed it and her soiled gloves into the garbage bag. Garbage. It was only garbage. She lined her rebreather up with the others and slid her feet into her own regular boots as Gus began hosing off the line of gear with a garden hose hooked up to one of the houses. She watched the red turn pink in the running water as a river of wash water cut through the snow at the side of the road to form a chunky pool near the sewer grate. She walked over and kicked the snow packed by the plow through the gate, and in a rush, the pink river of gore disappeared under the road to hide their sins.

After everything was washed down, Gus took out a spray bottle of alcohol and spritzed the gear until they were satisfied that no bits or germs remained. Wolf tied the garbage bag closed and walked over to throw it into the dump truck. When everything was as clean as they could make it, they all piled in the van to go home. Once parked in the barnyard, no one felt like moving. They were sitting there, numb. All but Chuck. He had his eyes closed and a small smile on his face.

"We did good today, people," Chuck said. He seemed peaceful, and the thought gave Mother pause.

"Yes," Mother said quietly. "We did. Now, go eat and get a good night of sleep. We'll regroup in the morning." They moved to open their doors. "I'll understand if anyone wants a different job," she said quickly.

Chuck looked upset. "You're not kicking us off the team, are you?"

"No. But it...I don't think any of us knew what today would be like. I won't hold it against any of you if it's not something you can do again. There is no shame in knowing your limits."

"I'll be here," Chuck said firmly.

"Me too," agreed Gus.

"You know I'm in," said Wolf.

Only Cindy seemed to be considering backing out. "Think it over and be sure," Mother told Cindy. "You have to be sure you can live with it."

Cindy opened her mouth, then closed it. She wanted to say she'd be there. She wasn't one to back away from a difficult situation. But she just wasn't sure. She gave a nod and followed Gus towards the barn for dinner.

Wolf watched Mother. She stood staring at her people with a blank look. Her eyes were dead. She was numb. He frowned. "Come on, time to eat."

She shook her head.

"You have to eat."

She didn't respond.

"You didn't eat last night, I didn't see you eat breakfast this morning. You've got to eat."

"I can't," she whispered, still staring at the barn.

Wolf ran a hand over his face. "Go in and get coffee. I'll be there in a minute."

Mother turned and numbly walked up the porch steps. Eve was at the sink, cleaning up, and Janice was helping her. Mother had seen for herself how deeply her admonitions had affected Janice, and she had no qualms about letting the woman continue as kitchen help. She knew Janice would never again betray the trust that was placed in her.

"You're back," said Janice. "Did you eat?"

Mother shook her head and dropped heavily into a chair.

Eve frowned. "I think I've got the rest of this, Janice."

"You sure?"

The last thing Mother looked like she needed was Janice's yammering. The woman was kind and meant well, but she didn't know how to shut up. "Yes," Eve assured her. "I'm good. Head on out and have your dinner."

"Would you like me to bring you some, Mother?" Janice asked as she donned her coat.

"I've got it," said Eve, guiding the woman out and closing the door behind her before Janice could get another word in. "God she doesn't shut up," Eve said. She turned to Mother. "Are you okay?"

Mother looked to Eve and wanted to laugh. Was she okay? _I just spent the day throwing dead humans into a dump truck_ , she wanted to say. _I had to wash bits of people off my shoes. I had clumps of hair and scalp stuck to my gloves. No, Eve, I'm not okay._ But she couldn't say that, could she?

"I'll make coffee," Eve said after a minute of deeply uncomfortable silence. She turned to the pot and began to fix the brew. She didn't know if Mother would have any or not, but she needed something to do.

The door opened and Wolf came in carrying two bowls and two plastic spoons. The smell of the food made Mother's stomach lurch. It was meat. It smelled like meat. Like the dead meat they handled all day. Without a word, Wolf put the bowl in front of her and stuck the spoon in the middle.

"Eat."

Eve turned. "She doesn't look like she wants..."

"Eat," Wolf said, giving Eve a pointed glare.

Mother looked at the stew. There were chunks in there. There had been chunks on her feet, her gloves. She couldn't eat. She wondered if she ever could again. "No," she whispered.

Wolf took the handle of the spoon and scooped up a mouthful. He put it up to her mouth as if she was a baby. Eve scoffed, but Wolf's look stopped whatever she was going to say. "Eat."

Mother knew he was right. Somewhere inside, her brain smelled the food her body desperately needed and some part of her knew she had to eat. She needed the nourishment. She knew this. And yet, she just could not take the spoon and put the chunks of meat in her mouth. The scream echoed in the chasm deep within. If she opened her mouth, the scream might finally come out.

"Close your eyes and open your mouth and do what you have to do." Wolf said it quietly, just for Mother's ears.

His words sank in through the haze and anguish. Do what she had to do. _Just like yesterday, just like today, just like tomorrow_. This was just one more thing she had to do. She clamped her eyes closed, ignored the horrified scream inside, and opened her mouth. She clutched the edge of the table and forced her body to stay put, forced her jaw to chew, forced herself to ignore the terrors of the day and just swallow.

Wolf put the spoon down and let her feed herself. He motioned toward the door, giving Eve the signal to leave. "I'll go down and get her some clothes for her shower," Eve said quietly as she slipped out of the kitchen.

Wolf nodded, then picked up his own spoon and forced himself to do what he made Mother do. It took forever for her to pick up her spoon for another bite, but she did. She picked up the spoon and took another bite, coldly, mechanically. She shut it off. She shut everything off and ate, and Wolf's admiration of her grew. He'd seen bigger men, strong men, highly trained men crumble under less. When the bowls were empty, he gathered them and threw them in the trash. She would benefit from a few hundred more calories, but he didn't want to push it. "Come on," he said, standing at the door.

Mother rose and followed. Wolf lead her downstairs. Eve was nowhere to be seen, but a pile of clean clothes and a fresh bar of soap sat on the counter of Mother's bathroom. Wolf stepped aside and motioned for her to have her shower. "I won't even time you tonight," he said, trying for a laugh. She just nodded numbly and went into the bathroom.

Wolf turned around and leaned his back on the door, finally allowing himself to feel the weight of the day. He heard the shower start, heard the water run. Good. He knew that her shower time was when she processed things, time to herself when she could clear her head. It pleased him that Eve had already picked up on that trait, too. It meant he was right about the girl, and he liked being right, especially about important things.

His body was tired. Those corpses were surprisingly heavy, and pulling the carpeting strained muscles he rarely used. He rolled his shoulders, wincing at the popping noise the left one made. He should go check on people and make sure they bedded down without incident. He could run up and check on them, then be back before Mother was done and they could have their nightly meeting.

A sob caught Wolf's attention. He listened through the noise of the running water, then heard it again. Mother was crying, and part of him wanted to go in and comfort her. His job wasn't comfort. His job was her safety, her protection. He couldn't rush in there like some knight in shining armor and take away her pain, because that wasn't his role in life.

Wolf clenched his jaw as her deep, heartbreaking moans knifed through him. He leaned his head back on the door, for the first time in his life wishing he was someone different. He couldn't help her, not with the emotional part. It wasn't his job, it wasn't his role, it wasn't his place. And even if it was, even if he was supposed to be "that guy", he simply didn't have it in him. He wasn't good enough. Wolf slid down to the floor and leaned his tired arms over his drawn knees. He couldn't help her, but he wouldn't leave her, either.

When Mother stepped out, she was calm again. When Wolf saw her next, she had bottled up her demons and pushed forward. He said nothing about her crying, and was glad she didn't, either. She was calm and composed and if all it took was a bawling session in the shower to pull herself together and move forward, Wolf considered himself lucky. She wasn't over it, and Wolf didn't delude himself into believing she was. There were flashes, mostly fleeting looks that let him know that it would take her a long time for her to truly cope with their horrendous work detail. But, for the most part, she was okay. He had to believe she was okay.

It took a week for them to clean out the fourteen houses, but only because a storm interrupted their progress. It was still fairly warm, so the storm came in sheets of sleet that made a sheen of ice on the ground not even the plows could combat. It raged for two days, then it took another full afternoon of sunshine before they could safely get down the hill and make it to the DOT to load up on rock salt to spread around. Mother decided the break was probably a good thing. After three days of hauling bodies, even Chuck had become subdued.

Chuck was an odd one, that was for sure. But working with him daily gave Mother a new insight. He felt that death was beautiful. Though he said it from the beginning, Mother thought it was more an act, a persona. After the first day of cleaning, it became clear that he truly felt it to his core, that it wasn't a persona so much as his very form of being. It wasn't an act, the macabre facade. It was simply Chuck. He wasn't being creepy when he'd caress the bodies, he was showing his love and respect. Though it still sent shivers up her spine when he did it, at least she understood. She no longer feared Chuck, she felt a growing respect. He could do what others could not. He had value. He had a place in her burgeoning society more important than any other.

Mother wished she could get others to see it that way. She suspected Wolf shared her point of view, but, as he did more and more, he refused to agree or disagree out loud. "Not my place to comment on town-y stuff," he'd say. But, she never saw him disrespect Chuck, or treat him as a lesser citizen. From Wolf, that alone was a resounding nod of approval.

Others didn't see it the same way. At the community meals, people began to sit apart from all of them. Mother noticed it the morning the weather finally allowed them to continue. She had stepped in the barn to give morning announcements, and saw Chuck, Cindy, and Gus sitting in a corner, and the rest of the people with their backs turned to them. She asked for fresh volunteers, as she did every morning for the past week, and when no one new raised their hands, she caught some people sending looks at her cleaning crew.

"So none of you have it in you to put your own discomfort aside for the good of the community?" She sounded mad. Good, she was mad. Her people were being treated like outcasts for doing what they had to do. "Afraid you'll get cooties?" she asked in a harsh tone.

Her words hit their mark for most, and the people had the good grace to look embarrassed. She assigned the daily chores. With the roads salted and clear again, the scrubbing crew could get down to begin on the houses they'd cleared. She wanted to have a couple days' head start since she didn't know how long it would take the ten people to scrub a house from top to bottom. She gave the assignments, called Gus, Chuck, and Cindy to join her, and left the group in disgust.

They cleaned out bodies until the entire fourteen-house neighborhood was empty. The dump truck was full of corpses, furniture, rugs, and anything else that got slopped up in the process. They hosed off, stashed their gear in the van, and stood around looking down the street.

"It's a good job," Mother said to them as she passed a water bottle to Wolf.

"Damn good," Gus agreed.

"When are we going to do the rest?" asked Chuck.

Mother looked at him blankly for a minute, then swore to herself. Of course they weren't done. Of course there was more. This was only a temporary housing situation. They had an entire town to clean out. Fourteen houses wasn't "the job", it was a drop in the bucket. There must be hundreds of homes. Maybe thousands, for all she knew. She closed her eyes and took a breath. She couldn't focus on that now. It would swamp her and she would drown under the weight. "I think we should get this done, then take a break."

"The longer we wait, the warmer it's going to get," Cindy said.

Chuck nodded. "And you know what that means."

More smell. As if there _could_ be more smell. "We've got to focus on prepping the fields soon, setting up the crops..."

"Fields are still frozen," Gus pointed out.

Mother looked at him as if he was a traitor. She needed a break. Didn't they understand that? "I know," she admitted. "I know, I know, I know." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Let's just get through tonight and then we'll go from there, okay?"

Tonight. The first burn. She swallowed hard and looked to Wolf. She could do this. She had to. She be damned if she'd make anyone else. He gave her a nod and held his hands out for the keys to the dump truck.

"You sure you don't want me..."

"No," she said, cutting Gus off. "No," she said again with more kindness. "You all get the night off."

Cindy rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Because it's sunshine and roses with everyone looking at us funny."

Mother tamped down the anger. Hell, in the rest of the towns' shoes, she'd probably think people who volunteered for this kind of work weren't right in the head, either. "You're important to me," she said firmly to the group. "And if anyone has a problem with that, feel free to send them my way." Cindy gave a small smile. _God, they all look so beat_. "Tell you what. You three get a special night." She took a small notebook from her pocket and scribbled Eve a note. "Show this to Eve and she'll set you up inside with a candlelight dinner and table side coffee."

Chuck grinned and snatched at the note. "In the very lap of luxury of the Mother herself?"

Mother couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "The very lap. You earned it."

Gus looked like he was going to object, then shook his head. "I should bow out gracefully, but you know what? I think a meal to ourselves and a nice cup of joe sounds too good to pass up." He walked the group to the van and they all waved as they pulled out.

"Come on," Mother said to Wolf with determination she didn't feel. They got into the truck, Wolf behind the wheel. He didn't push her to drive this time. This night would be hard enough. "You got the gas?"

Wolf nodded. "Five cans in the back. Should be enough."

Maybe. The truth was, they didn't know, and wouldn't until they actually went through with it. Mother swallowed hard, once again wondering if they made the right decision, and knowing that even if they hadn't, there was nothing else they could do. The ground was still frozen, so they couldn't bury the bodies. Besides, a heated discussion around the table a few nights before highlighted some facts of the situation no one wanted to think about before. Eventually the municipal water system would fail. Pipes would crack, or electricity would shut down. The plant wouldn't continue to pump the water to her people and the day would come when they had to rely on their own wells, on ground water. Even if they waited for the ground to thaw, she couldn't risk contaminating their ground water.

The bodies, and all the other garbage from the houses, would have to be burned. Wolf had taken Steve, and the two had found a hill with a clear cut face on the back side away from the town. It was an old logging site, and there was plenty of cleared area for burning. Plus, since the clearing faced to the east away from the town, the ash would follow the wind pattern down the valley and away from Arlington. The townspeople would see a glow, maybe, but nothing more. It was a close enough location to be feasible, and far enough away to keep the nightmares at bay.

For them. For the others. Not for Mother. Not for Wolf. Not for anyone who actually had to do the burnings.

Mother's foot tapped nervously on the floor of the truck as they turned up the logging road that would take them to the top of the hill. "You sure it's a safe place?" she asked.

Wolf knew how scared she was. Hell, he'd be lying if he said the whole idea of what they were about to do didn't chill him to the bone. They were going to stack bodies and burn them. Only monsters did that. Only maniacs did that. Only inhuman despots ever actually did that. And yet, life left them with no choice. "It's the safest I think we're going to find."

Mother nodded and stared out the window into the darkness. The truck rumbled over the deep, frozen ruts in the dirt road. They bounced and chugged up the steep slope until there was a bend, a turn, and then they looked out across the barren hilltop into the clear stars of night. Mother caught her breath at the beauty, and bounded out to have a better look as soon as Wolf stopped. She walked forward and just stared into the dark, peaceful night. Her breath puffed a little white cloud in front of her, the stars glittering through.

"Oh Wolf," she said softly, her voice filled with regret. They were about to kill the scene. They were about to take the place of utter beauty, and change it, soil it, ruin it. She heard the rumble of the truck bed being tilted up, and against the backdrop of the pristine beauty of the late winters' night, heard the surreal sound of a dump truck load of human bodies and gore-covered furniture slide down the metal bed and hit the ground with a dull, wet thud. She closed her eyes and apologized to whoever was listening, then turned to do what she had to do.

The pile was huge. "It didn't seem that big in the truck," Mother said to Wolf as they stared at the heap in front of them.

"Put your mask on," was all he said in reply.

They donned their masks, then walked around dousing as much of the pile as they could with gasoline. They used three containers, and Wolf suggested they hold back on the rest in case it took a few tries to get the pile to catch. He held out the box of matches and waited. She'd take it. She might be standing there, staring like a deer caught in the headlights, but she'd take it. She'd light it. She'd do what she had to do.

Mother reached out her hand and took the box of matches. It was time, and everything slowed down. She looked at Wolf and tried to gather the strength she needed. Her hands took out a match, she turned to the pile. She took a deep breath and struck the match before she lost her nerve. There was so much gasoline vapor that the match didn't even reach the pile before it caught in a huge whoosh that made them both jump back.

Flames licked high into the night, and it took her a few seconds of blinking to adjust to the brightness. There was a wave of heat, then the crackle of all the plastic catching on fire. A thick wall of black smoke wafted over them, and they both circled the fire until they were well away from the cloud of noxious fumes. Once the plastic began to shrivel, the bodies were uncovered, and Mother found that she couldn't look away. Wolf turned around. Some part of her mind registered the fact that the mighty Wolf had limits. He didn't move, he stayed right by her side. But he couldn't look. He stared out across the valley, trying to focus his attention on anything but the burning people behind him. He simply couldn't bring himself to watch.

And Mother couldn't look away. She felt an icy horror at what that might mean. She watched as the bodies became clear under the melted plastic. An arm. A leg. There were faces, fat, bloated faces rendered unrecognizable by the combination of the pox that killed the owner and the months of rotting after. They were faces nonetheless. Former people. Their hair caught fire. The piles of hair squished under the chunks of carpet or squashed beneath the bed frames or mattresses caught and shriveled into wispy, ash crisps.

She couldn't look away. She watched individual strands dance against the heat and pull in on themselves until there was nothing left. Clothes burned. Blops of melting mattress material began to drip down, setting whatever was in their molten path to smolder. There were a few loud pops and cracks that sounded like wood, and Mother's brain numbly told her that the wood was catching. _Good. That's good. Right?_

Wolf pulled in one deep breath after another. He stood in the familiar guard stance, on alert in case of any trouble. He made himself remain part of the scene, and yet separate. Away. He had to distance himself. He had to cool down. He had to keep a calm head and he could not make himself do that if he was watching people burn. Wolf had limits like everyone else. The difference was, he knew every single one of his. It wasn't weak to turn away, it was what he had to do to stay sharp, and he felt no shame in admitting it. Let her watch if she wanted. Hell, maybe something in her had to. He knew she'd feel guilt over this. He knew it the moment they all came to the conclusion that this was the best way. She'd feel guilt, and when she did, he'd have to be sharp and pick up the slack.

The night seemed eternal. The fire caught and held solid until the plastic and wood had burned away, leaving only the fat of the bodies to keep the flames going. At some point, Mother grabbed a branch to poke the hot coals up and over the shrinking pile. The smoke took on a heavy, sweet smell that even seeped into the rebreather. Wolf had the ghastly thought that it smelled a lot like southern barbecue before he forced his mind to shut off again. He scanned the surrounding dark forest, looking for potential threats, thinking of any possible danger to take his mind off the task at hand. The first rays of sunshine lifted over the far hills before Mother announced that she thought they were done.

Wolf turned around and looked at the pile. There wasn't a lot left. There were some large chunks of what he assumed were bone, and the metal springs of the mattresses hadn't melted. They'd have to cool before they could be pulled out. He struggled to find something to say.

"I think it's burned down enough so it's not a danger," Mother said, her voice wooden. She had ash spread on her cheeks above the mask and stuck in her hair. She looked tired and small, yet stood with her back straight.

"Then let's get back to town," Wolf said, feeling proud. He wondered if she even knew how big a test she just passed. Maybe someday he'd tell her. They got in the truck and rumbled home without a word. As they had planned, he parked the truck in the clean neighborhood so no one would have to smell it and left their rebreathers in the cab.

They were going to walk the half mile up the road to the house, and though Mother's body was bone tired, she was glad to have the time in the clear, cold air to try and let go of the evils of the night. She reached the house. She ate. She showered and glanced at her bed. It was full morning, and thin streams of light came through the high basement windows. She should lay down and catch at least a nap. The memories crowded in and she turned from the haunting images inside and ran up the stairs. She'd sleep later. Right now, she had to keep busy. Right now, she had to outrun the ghosts.

Chapter 9

After the citizens were moved into their temporary homes, the town fell into a groove and February passed into March with a daily pattern of work, clean up, and planning. After two more grueling neighborhood clean outs, Mother had to call it quits. The daily cleans and lengthy burns had taken their toll, and she needed to delegate. She selected two people to join the clean out crew, put Chuck in charge, and turned her attentions to the other matters of the town. She still insisted on handling the burns personally. Chuck joined her for the second one, and he took entirely too much pleasure in it for Mother's peace of mind. Though he was disappointed with her decision, he bowed to her authority. She burned once a week, or if the truck filled up before then. As it turned out, people who died in their living rooms left far more rotten furniture, and that took up space. Sometimes it was necessary to do more than one burn a week, and she did it without complaint. Every burn behind her meant fewer ahead.

The garbage from the town was collected and burned as well. Coraline made a snappy comment about pollution, but no one paid her any attention. They still had all their meals in the barn, but having designated living space in real houses instead of the barn had calmed the group and they were harder for Coraline or Fred to rile. They'd roll their eyes and shake their heads and head to their own homes where they didn't have to listen to bad attitudes sour their days.

People worked where they were needed. As the days and weeks passed, peoples' skills became clear and Eve assigned tasks Mother needed done accordingly. Every night Mother would gather what she considered her core group, Eve, Gus, and herself, to discuss the growing list of issues they suddenly thought of that needed to be addressed.

In mid-March, when the only snow that remained were the fat, icy, dirt covered berms that lined the streets from the plows, all talk turned to farming. Though they were taking any canned supplies from the houses as they cleaned, and sending out daily convoys to raid stores in the area, they could not be so short-sighted as to rely solely on what they could snatch and grab. They needed to plant crops. They needed to have a food source. They might be set for the moment, but it could all change so fast.

The major problem with farming was that there wasn't a farmer among them. There were great gaps in professions Mother believed they should have. They didn't have any doctors, either. No medically trained people at all, unless you counted Cindy, and the most she could do was tell if someone was dead. They'd done the best they could for the few incidents, but the day would come when something major would happen and they'd have to know what to do.

Arlington didn't have any engineers, either. Mother wanted to keep her technology. She wanted to get everything off the internet she could that might be useful. All of the knowledge they needed was out there, somewhere. It was just a matter of finding it, of getting it before it was too late. She had no idea how to do that, and there wasn't a damn techie in the bunch.

If Mother let herself think about all they lacked, she would make herself nuts. She decided to put it all in the boxes of her head and open them one by one. Spring would be on them soon, and that meant crops. Food. Future. She would open that box, make the plan, and then open the millions of other boxes of mental files in turn.

They had no farmer. "Does anyone here garden at least?" Mother asked the group at dinner one night. Coraline looked around, then raised her hand and rolled her eyes. Mother had to stop her own eyes from doing the same. "No one else? Anything. Tomatoes or lettuce or even potted plants?"

"I temped at a florist one summer, but that was years ago," a woman named Denise said.

It would have to do. Mother nodded her head. "Fine. If you two ladies would join tonight's meeting in the house, I'd appreciate your input." Coraline rolled her eyes again and waved a hand, and Denise nodded enthusiastically. Mother addressed the group at large. "Starting tomorrow, our goal here is going to shift to getting ready to plant some crops. Any suggestions will be welcome, but please don't come tell me you'd love to eat a fresh radish again. We're going to have to raise essential crops, at least until we figure out what the hell we're doing." The crowd laughed, and Mother was pleased. They were with her. More and more, she felt like they were truly behind her. "Now, finish this fine meal and get a good night's rest. That was good work out there today, and you've earned a mellow evening."

A tree had fallen across the road, blocking access down the hill. It had taken the many inexperienced hands a long time to get it cleared away, but they had done it. The road was open and the people learned they were capable of yet another new skill. All in all, it was a successful accident.

Mother turned and headed to the house to prepare for the meeting. She hated the fact that Coraline was the only one with gardening experience. "Of course it would be her," she muttered to herself as she walked in the door.

"Would be who?" Eve asked, the kitchen already cleaned from the meal prep and the notebooks they'd need spread out on the table.

"Stupid Coraline," Mother said, not caring that she sounded like a whiny brat. Eve laughed. "It's not funny. Almost fifty people, and she's the one with gardening experience? She's going to be insufferable, you know that, right?"

Eve sighed. "Tell me about it. At least you're out of the house most of the day. Who do you think deals with her litany of complaints when you're not around?"

Mother unclipped the walkie talkie Wolf now insisted she wore at all times and set it on the charging station he installed in the kitchen. She noticed his wasn't there. "Where's Wolf?"

Eve shrugged. "Skulking around somewhere, I'm sure."

Mother shook her head. "He still in a funk over the shooting thing?"

"You're going to have to learn."

Mother sank heavily into the kitchen chair, glad she could finally sit down. "I know."

"I think you've put it off about as long as you're going to."

Mother looked at the girl. Young woman, really. Eve had gotten color back and put on some weight in the last couple months. She was as strong and sure outside as she was in, and Mother was very pleased to see her looking so well. No one had mentioned the fact that Eve was healed, yet still lived in the house. It was accepted now that Eve was Mother's assistant, and if Eve had any trouble over it still, she never mentioned. Mother was lucky to find Eve, and she knew it.

Wolf walked in with Coraline and Denise in tow. He said nothing, but grabbed a coffee and then took his seat on the counter behind Mother. It was his standard place at the evening meetings. Mother asked him about it the first time he hopped up on the counter like a teenager. "I have a clear shot on anyone who needs it from there," was his response.

"Thank you for joining us," Mother said to the two women. "Please take your coats off and have a seat." Denise smiled and complied, while Coraline stubbornly kept her coat on. Mother took a breath to keep her impatience in check.

"I don't know how much help I can be," said Denise, sitting. "Like I said, I only temped for a summer."

Mother smiled warmly at the nervous woman. "And that's a whole summer's more experience around growing things than I have. Honestly, we're starting from scratch, here. I need an idea of what we're getting ourselves into."

"Pain, that's what," said Coraline.

Mother sighed. "I don't have time for attitude..."

"And I'm just telling you like it is," defended Coraline. "You think farming's easy? I had a small, two acre garden and that was bad enough."

Mother quirked an eyebrow. "Two acres? That's a little more than a home garden."

Coraline crossed her arms and shrugged, always unable to dump the chip off her shoulder. "We lived in an artist community."

Mother couldn't help the wry smile. "Commie." If she wasn't mistaken, she saw a flash of amusement in Coraline's eyes.

"Yeah, well. We grew a lot of veg, but nothing like what you need."

"And what is that?"

"Grain. And lots of it. We bought our grain."

Mother nodded to Eve, motioning for her to start writing things down. "What kind of grains should we grow?"

"Corn, wheat, barley," Coraline answered quickly. Mother got the distinct impression that in spite of Coraline's attitude, she'd been thinking of ways to be useful.

Denise frowned. "I hate barley."

"Barley grows anywhere, it's nutritious, and you can make booze with it."

Mother frowned. So far everyone sort of accepted her "no booze" policy, and no one really pushed it, probably because she made sure there wasn't any alcohol to be had. She gathered it all and stored it in her basement behind the new walls that Steve and Gus helped Wolf construct. Just like the drugs and medicines. Addictions were a headache she didn't need. Wolf insisted that people would press the issue someday, and she'd have to make a firm law one way or the other.

"One day you're going to want to trade that booze, even if you don't want us drinking it," Coraline said with a pointed look.

Trade. It was another thing Mother hadn't considered. Coraline was smart. Mother said it before, and it struck her again then. Coraline was smart, if nothing else. "Can you grind barley into a flour?" Mother asked.

Coraline nodded. "It won't ever get as smooth as wheat, but, yeah."

Eve wrote it down. "What about vegetables?"

"We could grow those at our own houses," said Denise.

Mother didn't know if she liked that idea. That would put a lot of responsibility on the people as individuals. "I don't know."

Coraline took off her coat, clearly deciding to stay awhile. "I think she's onto something. If you get the big fields ready, you're going to want as much acreage as possible devoted to the big grains. You need a lot."

Mother nodded. She'd seen herself how quickly food supplies dwindled. "Can we count on people to keep up their gardens?"

Coraline shrugged. "Won't take much. If you plow right, get a good bed laid, and make sure the weeds are gone until the plants are big, it doesn't take much to make food grow. Nature grew tomatoes on her own long before we showed up with our tools."

She almost sounded happy, Mother thought. The bitterness wasn't there, the edge was dull.

"Besides, Coraline continued. "We'll have plenty of time to focus on veggies once the fields are plowed, fertilized and sit resting before planting." The rest of the group only stared. Coraline clucked her tongue. "You really haven't thought about this at all, have you?"

The next day, Wolf drove Coraline and Mother to the local library to grab as many books on farming as they could. While the rest of the town went about their regular daily chores, the two women poured over the information until they hammered out a plan Mother was proud of and Coraline didn't completely hate.

"You're still skipping steps," Coraline insisted.

"We'll figure them out on the way, won't we?"

The first order of business was to find seed. According to Coraline, the amount of corn Mother had harvested into two sacks the previous fall was pathetic. They'd need seed, and lots of it. They'd need enough to cover the three large fields they believed they could manage to farm the first year, and they had maybe enough for half of one. It was staggering to Mother. She had thought it was so much at the time. She wished she could go back in time and get more, work harder, save the corn instead of letting it rot on the stalks. Ah, but she couldn't.

They found the location of a large feed and garden center on MapMan. Coraline knew the place and said that it catered to large subsistence farmers, exactly what they needed. The store was about thirty miles to the south, and they calculated the gas they'd need to run a school bus down that way. They spent a day with a team removing all but the first three rows of seats, to give plenty of cargo room, and selected a handful of people as helpers.

As Mother loaded up the bus on the late March morning, the mood of the group was light. It was the first time any of them had been out of town in two months. Gus took the driver's seat. "Everyone got their field trip buddy?" he asked with a grin before closing the door and heading out.

Wolf settled back in his seat and tipped his hat forward to catch a nap. There was a burn the night before and he was wiped. He found Mother's excitement annoying and did his best to tune her and the rest of the group out. There weren't any security risks on the road, and if they came across any danger, he'd have plenty of warning. He let himself doze off.

Mother sat with Coraline and Eve, huddled over Eve's notes. They also had Steve with them, because he'd haul all day without complaint, and Blaze, because he was getting twitchy, as Wolf said, and couldn't be left alone in the town. They drove for awhile when the bus slowed and stopped. Wolf bolted up, but then Gus laughed.

"I stopped at the red light," he said, laughing at himself. He shook his head and took the good-natured ribbing the passengers gave him. Wolf glared and leaned back to resume his snooze and the bus rumbled on without incident.

They reached the garden center and Wolf made them sit tight while he had a look around. There was no sign of life, no indication that it had been raided. He entered the bus and let them know it was all clear, then stood outside the smashed door of the building to keep guard while the rest went shopping. He made Blaze stand on the other side, until Mother requested another set of hands to haul manure.

"I'm not carrying shit," Blaze scoffed.

Wolf touched the knife at his belt and Blaze swore, but went to do as Mother said. Gus backed the bus up as close to the building as he could, and they began stacking as much fertilizer in the bus as it could carry. They stacked it up to the ceiling and almost to the back doors, leaving enough room for sacks of seeds. Coraline found some packets of vegetable seeds in the back of the store, and grabbed several boxes of tomato, carrots, cucumber, pumpkin, zucchini, and onion seeds, as well as a case marked "mixed herbs". When the bus was as full as it could be, the tired people settled in their seats, pleased at their haul even if the manure did smell musty.

"Open the window," Blaze said. "It smells like shit."

"It is shit," Mother pointed out. For some reason, that struck Steve as funny and he guffawed.

"What a shitty job this was," he said, through tears.

Mother threw her head back and laughed, too. They took turns making shit jokes and laughing like hyenas. It was a lame joke. It was overplayed the second time it was said. And yet, it felt good to laugh. It felt damn good just to laugh.

They were nearing town, their stomachs aching from the bursts of laughter. Gus stopped at another red light, and that set them all off again. Even Wolf let out a little noise snort under his hat.

"Careful, Gus. Wouldn't want to get a ticket!" called Steve.

"Yeah," added Coraline. "You're old enough that they might just make you go through the driving test again!"

Mother laughed, more because Coraline decided to be in a good humor for once than because of the comment itself. She wiped a tear from her eye and was about to ask Gus if he needed a break from the wheel when there was a knock on the bus door.

Wolf froze and listened. Everyone froze and listened. The rap sounded again. Gus's eyes found Mother's in the big rear view mirror above him. "Uh, there's someone at the door."

Wolf stood slowly. "Stay here," he ordered Mother.

Mother looked to Eve, who shrugged. It was all so surreal. She stood and craned her head out the window. There was a man standing out by the bus door.

"I told you to stay put," Wolf said to Mother before giving Gus the signal to open the door. "Who are you and what do you want?"

Mother watched the man put his hands in the air, but grin broadly. "Whoa now, killah. I don't want trouble. I was just on my way to Arlington."

"What do you want with Arlington?" Mother called out.

Wolf turned and glared at her in annoyance, and then clenched his jaw when he saw the other people on the bus had switched sides and leaned out the windows to see as well.

The man looked to Mother. "I saw a posting that there were survivors there."

"There are," she assured him. "Where ya from?"

"I'm up from Greenfield."

Mother whistled. "That's a good hike."

He shrugged. "I didn't like what I saw at the army base."

Wolf needed to regain control of the situation. "You armed?" The guy nodded, and then handed over a gun and a knife without hesitation. "That all?" Wolf demanded. The guy nodded again. "What's in the pack?"

"My gear. Computers, transistors, radio equipment..."

"Wolf," Mother barked, beckoning him forward.

Wolf pointed the tip of the man's own knife at him in warning. "Stay." The man put his hands in his pockets and smiled up at the other people in the bus windows. Wolf hopped up the stairs and leaned in.

"Classic geek," Mother whispered.

Wolf nodded. "My thoughts, too."

"We need him."

"Let me talk to him first." When Mother opened her mouth, Wolf hurried on. "He said he's been to the army. Let me make sure he's on the up-and-up and not some plant."

Mother's frown deepened. "What the hell would the army want to plant someone with me for?"

Wolf looked at her like he could not believe she could be so stupid, shook his head, and left the bus. He dragged the man a few steps away, out of Mother's hearing range, and grilled him. After a few minutes of animated discussion, Mother saw Wolf nod, point at the man's chest, and issue a threat. She couldn't hear the words, but she knew that look in Wolf's eyes. The man paled, nodded quickly, and followed.

"Looks like we get fresh meat," Mother said to the group. They got back in their seats and waited for the newest member to join them on the bus.

"Hello," he said with a goofy wave when he entered.

The group mumbled their hellos, still unable to believe they had just picked up a hitchhiker. Mother stood and held out her hand. "I'm Mother. And you are?"

"Striker," he said quickly, pumping her hand with more gusto than is necessary. "I take it we're all Arlington bound?"

"Yes, we're from Arlington. I'm Mother, and I'm in charge there."

"Wow, the head honcho?"

"Sit down," ordered Wolf. Striker sat quickly in the first empty seat. Mother turned to face him.

"Interesting name you got there, Striker," she said.

He took his backpack off and clutched it tightly on his lap as the bus started forward. "It's my competition handle." He frowned and tipped his head. "Actually, my competition handle was Striker five ten, but I figure the other Strikers are probably dead, so..."

"Competition?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Uh, yeah. Strike Force Gamma."

"Ugh," said Eve, rolling her eyes. "It's a game," she said to Mother. "He's one of those gamer geeks."

Striker's face turned blotchy red. Mother guessed he was about as old as Eve, maybe a little older. "I'll have you know I was the top ranked squadron leader in all of the Northeast," he said defensively.

"Is that a fact?" Mother said, cutting off the biting comment she saw Eve about to make. Eve's instant reaction to Striker was very interesting.

"Sure is, and I was heading out west to the California Invitational tournament when all of this happened." He waved a hand around his head.

"I take it you like video games."

Striker gave an almost condescending scoff. "You could say that if you like understatements."

Mother smiled. Striker was like a character from some comic book, or a movie about teenage outsiders. He even had a case of acne, and stains on his teeth to indicate he recently wore braces. "Any good with gadgets outside of game machines?"

Striker didn't even hesitate before he started listing his skills. "Computers, robots, solar panels...you name it, I'm your man. The army offered me a good position, but I didn't like their...uh...restrictions."

"And what kind of restrictions were those?"

He glanced at the group and leaned forward. "I'm a bit of a hacker. They didn't, ah, like my work. Let's just put it that way."

Mother looked to Wolf. Interesting, very interesting. "So you have a unique skill set to offer my town, do you?"

Striker shrugged. "Yours or someone else's. Depends on what you're offering."

He was asking to be hired. It wasn't how Mother operated, or at least hadn't done so yet. She looked to Eve who gave a little shake of her head. Eve could get over whatever petty issue she had with nerds. Mother knew Striker's skills could prove invaluable. She sat back and studied Striker, thinking about the cliches of geekdom she'd grown up knowing. "What if I was to offer you a room in our main house to make a lab."

Striker sat back. "I'm listening," he said as coolly as possible.

"You could fill it with whatever you like. All the processing power you can scrape up."

"You have enough juice to handle that kind of set up?"

Mother shrugged. "If I don't, I'll give you whatever you need to make it happen. We need technology, you need a home."

Striker stroked his chin. Mother knew he would take the deal by the look in his eyes, but he wanted to at least put on a show. She let him. "And what would you ask in return?"

"You join my team. I mean, really join. No 'loose cannon behind my back' shit. If I need you to search for a map, you put your own projects aside and scour the internet for the map."

"Seems easy enough."

Mother didn't want him to say later she didn't warn him first. She had been making a list in her head of all the ways they could improve things with the right kind of technology, and she would grind him for months seeing it through before he could even dream of having time to his own. "It's going to be demanding at first. Right now we're wired to the power grid, but the day will come when we won't be."

"Solar or wind," he said quickly, "and I can wire either."

"Or hydro or whatever you can come up with," Mother said, pleased to see that he was very quick on the uptake. "That would be on you. Planning and rigging and implementing."

Striker really did think about that then. It would be a lot of hard work, and while he wasn't opposed, he wasn't sure he could handle it by himself. "Could I have help?"

"Yes."

Just like that she would agree? He looked at her, then. Really looked at her. She was tired. She was filthy, covered in the manure that was stacked behind them. Her hair was short and spiky like she just hacked at it with scissors, and she wore a surplus army jacket and boots. Overall, she looked like a character from a video game. He was sold. He stuck his hand out. "Deal."

"It won't be easy," she said.

"I know."

"I'm a royal bitch to work for sometimes."

A woman on the other side of the bus agreed, but he didn't care. He wiggled his hand until she took it and shook. "Deal."

"Welcome aboard, Striker."

And then he started talking to everyone in the bus, his relief at finding a home pouring out in a nonstop stream of babble until Wolf agreed with Eve that they should have left him by the side of the road. They pulled into the barnyard, and Mother told Eve to ring the large bell they rigged up on the barn to signal the town. Within a few minutes, townspeople started walking up the hill and in no time, they had the bus unloaded and the seed and manure safely stacked in the barn. Mother took the opportunity to feed Phil while Eve went with Janice to start the meal, and Wolf sent Striker in to pick a room off the den for his computer lab.

"He talks too much," said Wolf, sitting up on the stall wall.

Mother smiled. "Boy, Eve hates his guts, doesn't she? Bet she got burned by a geek."

Wolf let out his odd, sharp laugh. "Bet she was prom queen."

"You think she was a snob?" Mother stroked Phil's neck. She didn't get enough Phil time these days. "I don't think so. She dropped out."

Wolf shrugged. "Even snotty girls can open their legs."

"Wolf!"

He gave her a rare, genuine smile. "Hey, I like the kid. But you have to admit she's a little hoity-toity."

Mother laughed and shook her head. "No one's hoity-toity anymore." She kissed Phil's forehead between his horns and Wolf tensed. He hated it when she did that. One wrong move from Phil and there would be real trouble. He was quickly becoming a full grown bull. If she wasn't careful... "Well I think it's a good find," she continued, stepping away from Phil and grabbing the muck rake. "Poor kid has no idea what he's in for."

As soon as Mother stepped away from the bull, Wolf relaxed. He took his knife out of the sheath on his belt and began cleaning his fingernails with the tip. "I didn't like what he said about the army."

Mother began pulling the dirtied hay from the stall with the rake. "What did he say?"

"They offered him a fairly cushy life if he'd help them lock down information."

Mother leaned the rake on the side of the stall and grabbed the rope to loop over Phil's head. She'd have to lead him to the other remaining stall while she mucked the rest. She thought about Wolf's words while she worked, and leaned on the rake in thought when she came back. "Well that doesn't make any sense."

"It does. It means they want to control all the information."

Mother laughed and began raking again. "They can't control all the information, Wolf."

"They can lock it down. Change it."

Mother waved a dismissive hand. "On the internet. There's still these things we call books."

"I'm just saying, it's not a comforting thought."

Mother's raking slowed with his words. No, it wasn't. "Why didn't he join them?"

"I think he meant it when he said he didn't want to be locked down himself. He's a hacker. He'll want to get into places he shouldn't be."

Which, Mother thought, was perhaps the most valuable skill he could offer Arlington. The sheer enormity of the amount of information they'd finally have for their use made Mother feel buoyant. But, it wasn't any good if he would use it against Arlington. "Do you think he'll be loyal?"

Wolf put his knife back and hopped off the rail. "My gut says yes."

"Is your gut ever wrong?"

He shrugged. "I'll let you know if it happens."

Mother rolled her eyes and put the rake away. "You really are the most conceited man alive." She finished adding fresh hay to the stall and was just leading Phil back into his home when the first townspeople arrived to set up the folding tables and chairs they now used for meal time. Mother called her "hellos", answered a few questions about the new arrival, and went to get cleaned up, Wolf following silently behind her.

"You _can_ talk around other people, you know," Mother pointed out as he followed her down into the basement.

"Yup."

"But you're not going to," she said needlessly.

"Nope."

"You talk in the house."

"That's different. The people who live here with you aren't the ones that need to be scared of me."

Mother opened her mouth, then closed it again. Arguing was useless. "I need a quick shower. It was a shitty day, after all." She thought Wolf laughed again, but couldn't be sure. That would have been three laughs in one day. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he was feeling okay, but thought better of it. Three laughs in one day? It had to be a record.

Ah, but what a day it was. They got the supplies they needed. They got out of town. They found a new member who she was sure would prove to be an asset. All in all, it was a good day, the best they had in a long time. It certainly took the edge of the burn the night before. She soaped up her hair and sang a little tune.

Wolf smiled as he sat in his room after changing out of his dirty clothes. It had been many weeks since he heard her hum or sing, and now she was belting out a show tune. Not very well, but that made it all the better. She hadn't sang anything at all since the clean outs began. He took a deep breath and something that had been wound tight inside him for weeks slowly released. She hit a particularly high note, and held it for a surprising amount of time, and he smiled as he snapped the laces tight on his boots. It was a very good day.

Chapter 10

The morning of the first plowing dawned bright and warm. Though the ground was still frozen several feet under the surface, Coraline believed there was enough topsoil loose to begin, at least on the field behind the main farm house. "It's on a hill, so the water table is lower," she explained. It was good reasoning and no one objected.

Three large fields had been selected for planting. The one behind Mother's farm house would be planted with corn, as it had been the previous year. It curved down the gentle slope of the hill to the back, ending at the edge of a small river. The other fields were down the hill the opposite side of the hill, behind a neighborhood. They were long and skinny and divided in the middle by a small stand of trees and an old stone wall.

It was the first week in April. There hadn't been any snow for almost a month, and even the nights had lost some of their chill. Gus had lead a team in tapping sugar maples, but said the early warm weather would yield a small amount of thin syrup. Mother was just happy they were trying, and liked looking around and seeing the buckets on the trees. They were trying. Even if it failed the first time, they were trying.

The workers had gathered some farm equipment. To Mothers surprise, tractors came in all sizes. If she had ever given it any thought before, of course that would have made sense. She just never thought about it. She never had to. Her lettuce came from the grocery store. She bought her corn at a farm stand. It was always someone else's concern, some else's job, someone else's work. Now, it was hers. The townspeople expected her to look at the huge machines and decide what they needed. She had debated the merits of the different machines with anyone who felt they had some information to offer. Some actually did, and others just wanted something to debate. In the end, she decided to select the smaller machines.

"The big ones will till faster," Coraline insisted.

"And none of us know how to use them. They're dangerous."

Coraline had thrown her hands in the air. "They're all dangerous!"

"But the big ones are even more dangerous. Trust me. We'll cut our teeth on the smaller machines and work our way up."

Almost everyone else thought it was a sensible idea, so small tractors and a backhoe were moved up to the barnyard. The backhoe would be used to clear out any debris they ran into. Everyone was going to learn every part of the planting process. They'd learn how to plow the field. They'd learn how to turn the dirt. They'd learn how to spread manure and then plant the seeds, and they'd learn how to keep the fields in good shape through the summer. They'd learn in shifts through the three fields. While many hands made light work, too many hands just got in the way. There were fifteen people aside from Mother there the first day, to break ground in the barnyard. Others came to stand and watch, but she ordered that they stay well away on the sidelines.

Gus was capable of driving just about anything. He spent a few minutes getting the feel of the controls, and within minutes had the tines of the tractor scraping through the first foot of topsoil. The townspeople cheered him on and spirits soared. The old broken stalks that had dried through the winter crumbled and rolled under the tractor's comb, leaving a large, lumpy, dark brown swath of dirt behind. The plan was to let Gus take a few swipes, and then people would move in to pick out clumps of roots and any rocks.

It was a long, grueling day. Following the plow and bending over to pick out the roots and rocks was a back-breaking endeavor. While everyone worked hard, they needed many breaks. Mother assured them that the more they did it, the easier it would get. The problem was compounded by the fact that the turned dirt was just north of freezing and icy cold. People would work for a bit, then have to stand and slap their hands together to warm them up.

Still, by the end of the day, half the field was plowed and picked, and people could stop and look down the long, dark rows and see the proof of their hard work. They were cold, they were tired, they were absolutely starving, but they were proud. Mother trudged up to dinner and sat with them all that night to eat the meal Eve and Janice made. They laughed, they joked, they assured the other people that they would be feeling the pain the next couple nights.

On the second day, the work crew hit their first big rock in the field. The backhoe was brought in to dig it up, while Gus and Steve made a run for the necessary supplies to repair the broken tines on the tractor. It took awhile, but the rock was eventually removed, the hole filled with dirt, and the progress continued. Overall, they were undeterred. By late afternoon, they hit a patch that was more rock than field, and all progress was halted.

"This was plowed last year," said a man named Mack who insisted on saying he just couldn't believe it over and over until it grated on Mother's last nerve.

"And I told you it doesn't matter. According to the books, rocks work their way up from deep inside the ground. Farmers have to deal with this every year."

"Still..."

"Enough about what should or should not be there," she snapped. She took a deep breath, not wanting to give in to the dour turn the afternoon was taking. "We'll just have to deal with them like farmers always do."

Mack sighed and looked away, muttering under his breath. Mother could guess what he was muttering.

"Any ideas?" she asked the group.

"Can we just plant around them?"

Mother looked up the gentle hill. They were about halfway down from the back side of the farm, and about smack dab in the middle width wise. It would be very inconvenient to work around the area. "I think we're just going to have to work through it and get these rocks out."

The group groaned, but got in line to help. The backhoe was brought in and dug out the rock with ease, but they could see another just up ahead. It was enormous, and the backhoe bucket wasn't big enough to scoop it out. "We need chain," Mother ordered. Someone went and found some chain, and they carefully looped it under the boulder when the backhoe rocked it forward. When the chain was in place, Gus backed the machine up and they looped the ends of the chain up and over the bucket. The idea was to pull the rock out of the hole, then deal with it once it was up and free. The backhoe strained and for a minute it looked like their plan wouldn't work. Suddenly the ground gave up its hold and the rock rolled up and out of the hole. As soon as it was free, the chain snapped off, whipping around from the sudden slack and slicing through the air in a wide and potentially dangerous arc.

"Everyone okay?" Mother bellowed after the chain landed with a loud thud on the dirt.

Thankfully, no one was hit. With her hands still shaking, Mother made a mental note to be more careful in the future as they wrapped the freed rock with chain and dragged it to the edge of the field. Fortunately the rest of the boulders weren't as stubborn. By the end of the day, the field was still largely unturned, but the rocks were finally removed and cleared. Though they didn't get as far as Mother hoped, she and everyone on the work detail almost wept with relief when it grew dark and she had to call it quits.

After the third day, the first field was tilled and picked, and they moved the whole shebang to the closest of the lower fields. A quick test of the soil showed that it was mostly thawed, and they decided to get a start. The original crew was back in action, the rotation coming around once again. Mother was glad for it. She put her best people on that first day, and she considered them her dream team. The morning went smoothly and by lunch they had much more done than they had the first day.

"I told you we'd get used to it," Mother said as she ate the lunch Eve delivered to them in the van.

"Don't get cocky, Ma," said Gus, a twinkle in his eye.

They finished their lunch and hit their first huge rock of the day shortly after. "It's another bucket breaker," Mother called to the group when Gus moved the tractor back. The backhoe was brought in and the plan was the same. Mother stood on one side, Steve stood opposite with the other end of the chain, and a little grunting by the backhoe moved the rock just enough for them to loop the chain underneath. "Better watch out, Steve. People might say you know what you're doing!" Mother teased.

Steve grinned and secured his end of the chain to the bucket. "All set."

Mother gave a nod and made sure her end was clipped tightly. "Okay, back off everyone." She hit the side of the backhoe on the way past to let Gus know he was all set, and in seconds, the chain was pulled tight.

Coraline walked up beside Mother. "How many days you think we'll be doing this? My back is killing me."

Mother sighed. Some things were better with Coraline. Some things would never change. "Join the club," she said, hoping the commiseration would calm any potential bitch fest. Coraline really was hard to put up with sometimes.

"You think if we got a bigger rig..."

Coraline never got to finish what she was saying. The rock shifted in the half-frozen earth, straining the chain past its breaking point. Before anyone could react to the twang that rang out, a section of the thick, broken chain hurtled through the air and slammed into Coraline's thigh, pitching the woman forward into Mother.

"Wolf!" Mother bellowed as she lowered Coraline to the ground.

"Shut it down!" Steve screamed, waving his hands to Gus and shouting to be heard over the engine.

Mother lowered Coraline. She was completely out, her eyes rolled back in her head and her body utterly limp. Mother looked at her face, her head, and down her torso, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Her stomach heaved when her eyes roamed down Coraline's body and reached her thigh. A section of chain was embedded through the denim of her jeans and right into her leg, the blood already soaking the front of her pants.

"We need a car!" Mother yelled. "Coraline." She shook the woman. Was she dead? "Coraline!" Mother heard Wolf call Eve on the walkie for the van. Mother patted Coraline's cheek. _Don't be dead. Don't be dead. I didn't mean all those horrible things_ , her mind screamed. She turned to look up at the group, desperate for some sign that any of them knew what to do. "Anyone?"

"She's breathing," said Wolf, crouching beside her. "Eve's on the way."

Mother watched the dark red patch spread through the denim of Coraline's jeans. "There's so much blood," she whispered. Wolf took her hand and positioned it above the cut. He pushed it firmly, showing her what to do. She pressed down as hard as she could and held it until someone, maybe Gus, handed over a sleeve from a shirt. Wolf tied it tightly around the leg above the cut, and pulled Mother's hand free.

After what felt to Mother to be days, the van drew up, and Eve raced over. "Holy shit," she said, skidding to a stop. "Come on. I've got the van. Let's get her to the house."

Steve and Gus hoisted Coraline up and carried her to the van. Wolf held his hand out and helped Mother stand, holding on until he was sure her shaking legs wouldn't buckle. "You got this," he said quietly, only for her to hear.

Mother swallowed hard and turned to Eve. "Stay here and finish this field."

"But..."

"Stay here and finish this field!" she screeched to whoever dared question her in that moment. Even to her the voice that came out of her mouth did not sound like her own. But as she hopped in the van beside Coraline, she noticed that people listened.

Wolf drove, using the walkie talkie to call ahead. Mother held the wound closed as best she could and braced Coraline to keep her from rolling off the seat as they traveled over the bumpy fields. They turned up the road and Mother knew they would soon be home. They would be home, and then she would have to decide what to do. She looked at the blood seeping out from under her hand and felt like hyperventilating. She wasn't a doctor. What in the hell was she going to do?

The van stopped, the door opened. Striker ran out to help Wolf get Coraline in. "I got the clinic cleared," he said quickly.

The "clinic" was what they affectionately called one of the offices in the house that had been serving as a place for Mother to check the boo-boos of the town. There were basic first aid supplies, several boxes of gauze and gloves and other various medical items they'd picked up along the way. Nothing was organized. Nothing was sorted. It hadn't seemed like a priority, and as they placed Coraline on the bare desk, Mother cursed herself for yet another lack of forethought.

"What are we doing?" Wolf asked.

Mother stared at the gash. The chain was still embedded in the wound and it was one of the most horrifying things she had seen. One of. Her mind flashed to the bodies they'd cleaned. "No," she told herself as she clenched her jaw. "I will not let her be one of them."

"What do you need?" asked Wolf, intensely relieved that she was in control.

Mother ran a shaking hand through her hair, trying to get her racing thoughts under control. "Uh...clean it. We've got to...got to cut away the pants. Right?"

"I'll get scissors," Striker said.

"Next," Wolf said, helping to keep her on track.

Mother looked down at her hands. "I'm filthy. I gotta scrub."

"You go scrub, I'll find gloves." Wolf grabbed her upper arms firmly and made her look at him. "Stay focused. You've got this." He released her and she ran to the bathroom to scrub up. By the time she was back, she had her coat off and her hands clean, and Wolf helped her into gloves.

"Should we wear masks?" she asked.

"The fuck do I know?" asked Wolf.

_He's about to lose his shit, too_. The thought somehow centered Mother, made her feel like she wasn't alone. She looked down at Coraline's leg. "Okay. What do we have for medicine?"

"I've got the scissors!" Striker said, running back into the room.

"Don't you dare run with scissors again!" Mother shrieked. "The very last thing we need is a poked out eye!"

"Yes, Mother," Striker said. He took one look at Coraline's leg, and turned around. He wanted to help. He felt he owed Mother. But he just couldn't watch. He'd get anything Mother needed as long as she didn't make him watch.

Mother willed her hand to stop shaking and went about cutting the jeans away from the wound. When it was open and they could get a real look, the enormity of the injury sat like lead on her shoulders. Laid bare, it was clear the chain went very deep. She poured some water over the gash to clear away the dirt, then took a deep breath and tried to pull the chain free. It wouldn't move. The chain would not budge and she turned her panicked eyes to Wolf.

"It's in the bone."

They stared at each other, neither wanting to accept what was becoming clear. Mother swallowed hard and let the chain fall. "I...it's got to come off, doesn't it?" Wolf gave one quick nod, and Mother felt the simple action as if it was a blow. She took another shaking breath and tried to wrap her mind around what she had to do. "Do...we have morphine or something?" Wolf nodded and went through the boxes, sure he'd seen some kind of strong pain killer. "Striker, get me a saw from the basement," Mother said in an unsteady voice.

"A saw?" he squeaked.

"Yes."

"Small toothed," said Wolf.

"Like a saw? Like a real fucking saw?" Striker grabbed a fist full of his hair, his eyes wild with panic. "Oh shit! Are you going to...you're gonna..."

"Striker!" Mother barked, more to keep herself together than him. "Do it."

Striker ran his hands down his face and shook his head. "I...I'll be right back."

Mother took a deep breath, then another. "I'll need a mask."

"Yes."

"And...I..." Mother tried to calm her racing heart. "I don't know what to do after. Do I stitch it up?"

Wolf closed his eyes tightly against the pain in her voice. "No. I think in this situation you'd do best to cauterize."

Mother squeezed her eyes shut and wished she was anywhere else. "Take me to Tahiti," she whispered.

"We'll leave tomorrow."

It was Wolf's way of saying she had no choice. He'd take her, but after. She didn't have a choice, not yet, and she knew it. She just had to hear it. "Why is it just when things are going well..."

"Nope. None of that," said Wolf, his voice sounding more firm. He handed her the syringe he had filled with morphine. "Put it in a vein, any vein."

Mother looked at the needle. She was going to do this. She stepped forward and looked at Coraline. They hadn't even removed her jacket.

Wolf pushed the cuff of Coraline's coat out of the way and pointed to a good vein. "It'll feel like a pop, and that's how you know you're in."

Mother wanted to ask how he knew, but her hands were already moving. When she felt the pop, she pushed the plunger, shooting the morphine directly into Coraline. She pulled the needle out and placed the empty syringe on a tray.

Striker returned with the saw as Mother and Wolf were twisting a rod in the tourniquet, cutting off as much blood flow to the lower leg as possible. Striker made a strangled noise as he dropped the saw and ran back to the doorway.

"We need an iron," Wolf said.

"Like a clothes iron?" Striker's voice cracked.

Mother looked to Wolf, and he gave a small nod. They would need to cauterize. Right. "There's one in the linen closet," Mother told Striker, never taking her eyes off Wolf and the calming effect of his steady gaze. "Get it, bring it in, and plug it into the wall over there." She nodded her head to the closest socket. Time slowed as they waited for Striker's return, her mind thinking about what she was about to do. After Striker had finally returned and plugged the iron in to heat, he asked if he could leave. "Yes. Get the other room ready for her recovery."

"Thank you," Striker said and left.

Mother took a deep breath. She picked up the saw and doused it with rubbing alcohol. She held the blade above the cut and looked Wolf in the eye, terrified that he'd turn around as he did during the burns. But he just nodded for her to begin and the relief that he was going to stay calmed her shaking hands and she began. Wolf was going to hold the tourniquet and stay. She took another deep breath as she felt the teeth bite into the flesh. She could do this but she didn't have to do it alone. One more deep breath, and Mother took her eyes off Wolf and did what she had to do.

Two hours later, the seared wound was wrapped, Coraline was washed and settled into the makeshift hospital room next door, and Mother and Wolf were mopping up blood. There was blood everywhere. It was on the desk, the floor, the walls. It looked like Mother murdered someone, and she had come damn close. They both worked in silence. By then, Wolf knew that she'd talk if she needed to, and shut up if she didn't. She was thinking it over, trying to process, and he let her have the time she needed in her own head.

Wolf helped clean up the room. When they were done, he took the leg. "What are we doing with it?"

Mother stared at him for a minute before shaking her head. "I don't know. It's not our leg."

Wolf opened his mouth, then slowly closed it. If that's what she needed, that's what she'd get. "We need to put it somewhere."

Mother stared at the bloody sheet that wrapped the leg she'd just cut off. She cut off a leg. The gore rose up inside her and the memory of the jagged scraping of saw blade on bone still tingled up her arm. She swallowed the scream. Not yet. She couldn't let it out yet. She still had to think. "Uh...a house. We'll put it in a house we haven't cleaned yet."

Wolf just nodded. He'd find Chuck and have him do it. It really wasn't any more awful than cutting the leg off in the first place, and they could just add it to the clean up with the rest. If Mother needed to think that Coraline would be capable of deciding, what did it hurt to play along? He tied up the trash bags that contained the rags, bloody sheets, and wrappers, and looked around. "I think that's about it. I'll get Chuck and we'll get all this down to the dump truck."

"Not the leg," Mother reminded him quickly, her voice edged with panic.

Wolf shook his head. "No. Not the leg."

"That's Coraline's decision what happens to it."

"Okay."

Mother let out a shaky breath and ran her hand through her hair. "I'm going to check on Coraline."

It was on the tip of Wolf's tongue to warn Mother that Coraline would not make it. She wouldn't wake up. She lost so much blood that her heartbeat was faint at best. She was pale and cold and they'd just hacked off her leg for god's sake! At best she'd slip away in the night. At worst, she'd live long enough to get gangrene and truly suffer before she was allowed to die. He should tell Mother, warn her, prepare her for the inevitable. But when Wolf looked at Mother, covered in blood, exhausted to the soul, he just didn't have it in him to break her heart. It would be a long night.

Mother walked into the small room they hastily set up as Coraline's recovery room. Striker had found a bed and placed a table next to it with supplies. There was a vial of morphine, more bandages and tape, a pitcher with water. There was also a chair, and Mother fell into it heavily. She looked at the woman laying on the bed. Coraline was pale. Her hair was graying, something Mother never really noticed before. Her eyes were sunken, and even in sleep she looked defeated.

"Don't you dare die, Coraline," Mother whispered. She groped under the covers for Coraline's wrist. She could feel the pulse, faint but there. Mother pulled her hand out and tucked the blankets back around the patient. And then she sat there, searching both the room and her mind for something else she could do to help. But there was nothing. There was nothing more she could do, and that knowledge threatened to be her undoing.

Eve tapped at the door. "I've got some of these," she said quietly, holding up a package. "Adult diapers."

"Oh." Of course she'd need them. They'd have to diaper Coraline. They'd have to change them when they got soiled and wash Coraline's ass like a newborn. Mother stood and rolled down the blanket while Eve opened the package. "Thank you for thinking about this."

"I guessed on the size," Eve said.

"They stretch." Mother rolled up the tee shirt they'd left on Coraline and ignored Eve's gasp when she saw the bandaging. It wasn't leaking, and that was good. Wolf was right about the cauterizing, though Mother doubted she'd ever be able to iron clothes again. She rolled Coraline to one side, then the other, shimmying the woman's panties off with practiced ease. When Coraline lay bare, Mother held her hand out for the diaper.

"You look like you know what you're doing," Eve said as she handed over the diaper.

"Grammie had Alzheimer's," was Mother's reply. She deftly situated the diaper, then pulled the tee down as much as she could and tucked Coraline back in tight. "This will need to be checked every two hours. So close to the wound like that, we don't want any chance of infection."

Eve bit her lip, hard. Wolf said it was bad, but until she saw Coraline, Eve had no idea how close to death the woman really was. Eve didn't think Coraline would have time to infect, but she nodded. "I'll see what I can set up for a rotating schedule."

"No," Mother said sharply. "I'm sitting with her."

"People are asking and Wolf said to wait to tell them anything..."

Mother was going to snap at Eve and tell her to let the people talk all they want. Common sense cut through her gut reaction. Of course people were asking. They must be terrified. "They still in the fields?"

"No. It's dinner."

That late? Mother nodded. "Good. I'll go talk to them if you can sit with her."

Mother looked like she was on the edge. She looked the same as she did after she came back from her first burn, her eyes bright and searching, like she was looking for a rope to hold on to and someone just kept pulling it away. Wolf warned Eve that Mother was close to losing it, and Eve knew she had to tread lightly. "I'll sit with Coraline."

Mother nodded. "Thanks. I'll be right back. Give me ten minutes. Holler if you need me."

"I will."

Mother gave Coraline a quick look. There was nothing else she could do for her for the next hour or so until it was time for more morphine. It was time to go set the town at ease. She patted her hair back into place as she strode across the barnyard and took a deep breath for courage. She entered the barn and called for attention. Those closest to the door stopped their talking and stared at Mother with wide eyes, but there were others that still talked. She was in no mood to wait. She stepped on an empty chair, then climbed up to stand on the table. "Listen up!" she hollered.

The eyes of the town were on Mother, wide and shocked. The only noise in the barn was the snorting of Phil. "As all of you have no doubt heard, we had a bad accident down in the fields today. Coraline was the victim of an unfortunate situation." Someone started to speak, and she held her hands up. "Before you ask, she's doing as well as can be expected, but she's by no means out of the woods yet. I cannot stress the need for safety enough. When you are working with and around the heavy machinery, you absolutely have to keep on guard, on alert, on point. Tonight it was a leg. We're lucky it wasn't her life. Now, I thank those who stuck around in the field and continued to work. And for everyone else, let's learn from Coraline." She gave them what she hoped was an encouraging smile, but they simply stared at her. Blamed her. She felt it deep. They all blamed her, and damn if they weren't right. "That's all. Finish your dinner." Mother hopped down and turned to leave.

"What did you do to her?"

Mother stopped and squeezed her eyes tight. It was Fred. She didn't have the patience for him tonight. "Fred, just finish your dinner." She heard a chair scrape across the floor and knew he was approaching.

"I think we have a right to know what happened," he said in his most petulant voice.

Mother turned and looked at the man, trying to keep her anger in check. "Coraline was struck through the bone with a large, rusty chain. We had no choice but to remove the leg and hope for the best." There was a shocked gasp from the crowd. They didn't know. Mother sighed. Of course Wolf wouldn't have told them.

"You cut off her leg?" Fred said, his eyes wide with disgust.

"You didn't see the wound. You didn't see the extent of the damage..."

Fred snorted. "So now you're a fucking doctor, too?"

Mother's hands began to shake, this time with cold fury. "I didn't see anyone else stepping up to do the job."

"You probably just killed her, lady."

Every fiber of Mother's being wanted to scream at the man to get out. Get out of her town and leave them alone. Take his bad attitude and choke on it. She tried to keep herself in check. She clamped her lips shut tight because if she opened them, she wasn't sure what would actually come out. She couldn't risk it being the scream. If she started screaming, she'd never stop.

Fred seized his advantage. He turned to the group and tried to rally them. "It's bad enough she thinks she's our damn mother, and teacher, and boss, and farmer. Now she's playing with our lives pretending to be a doctor!" He snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't know about all of you, but I'm getting a little fed up with her heavy handed attitude."

Something felt like it popped in Mother's head and she was suddenly beyond caring what came out if she opened her mouth. "You're getting fed up with _my_ attitude? Did you really just say that? Are my ears lying to me or did the king of self-centered whine-assing just say that I was the one with the bad attitude?"

Fred knew he crossed the line. He wasn't just getting yelled at. He could see the look in her eyes, wild and beyond angry, and he knew he crossed the line. He knew it was time to apologize and back down. But he'd never been able to do that. The one thing he truly mastered in life was pushing it too far. It's what his ex-wife had told him, and she was right. He was very good at stepping in it, and very bad at bowing out gracefully when he was losing. He could see defeat, he simply could not avoid it. He opened his mouth to try anyway, but instead, another insult came out. "That's rich coming from the queen."

Mother's eyes widened even more and her nostrils flared. "Queen? I'm sorry, but I don't see you up all hours of the night to plan and worry and work for the town. No. Not you. Not Fred. Fred eats the food _I_ gathered. Fred sleeps in the house _I_ cleaned. Fred walks away when there's trouble and let's _me_ deal with it. Fred can't be bothered to do one fucking thing for anyone else without bitching and moaning and whining and starting trouble. And do you know why?" She poked Fred's chest. "Because there is one person and one person only in Fred's world, that's why! Well you know what, buddy? I don't have any room for that kind of thinking in my life."

Mother stepped so close that she was almost spitting in his face when she shouted. "Yes I had to be the doctor tonight. Do you know what that means? Huh? You act like it's some fucking power trip. I would give my own legs to find a real doctor and take that burden off my shoulders! Yes, I cut her leg off. The chain was embedded deep in the bone, which was shattered all over the place. There was nothing else I could do. Hell, I don't think a real doctor would have made a different decision in this situation. Yes, I had to be the one to make the call. Just like I had to be the one to take a saw and cut a person's leg off. A real person. A person I rely on. One of my people!" She could feel the tears well up and stepped back, trying to gain composure.

"You didn't even like her," Fred said, against his better judgment. He cursed himself inside. Why did he always have to goad people? "She's not one of your pets."

"What are you saying, Fred?" Mother asked, her voice deceptively calm.

Fred's mind screamed at him to shut up, to abort, to walk away. "I'm just pointing out facts. You didn't like her, that's all." The crowd murmured behind him, and Fred knew he pushed it too far. They weren't for him, they were against him.

Mother's hand went to her belt. Wolf had been trying to get her to always carry a knife, and she was furious with herself when her hand slid against the bare belt and she knew that once again she forgot to strap it on. That thought stopped her cold. She reached for a knife...to do what? Kill the man because he was pissing her off? She closed her eyes and counted to ten. When she opened them, the world was no longer washed in a red haze. Her vision was clear, her mind was focused. "Get out," she said simply.

"Yeah, maybe you should leave, Fred," said Steve, stepping up.
"No," Mother barked. "Out. Gone. Go. If I'm such a tyrant, then clearly you want to leave."

Fred felt the familiar tingle of panic tickle up his spine. It was the same feeling he had when his wife kicked him out of the house. Just as he did then, he knew he pushed it past the point of no return. "Look, I..."

"No!" Mother stepped closer again. "I'm done, Fred. I'm done with your bad attitude and condescension. You have different ideas on leadership? Great! Takes all kinds to make the world go round. Now pack your shit and hit the road, because in this town, there's one person in charge and we're all lucky that it's not you!"

Steve tried to step in and diffuse the situation. "Mother, maybe you should..."

Mother turned on Steve. She didn't want to yell at him. Steve was one of her good people. Steve was liked by all and never complained. He worked hard and supported those around him. She did not want to yell at Steve, but by god if he didn't step back and shut up, then he'd be next. "This doesn't concern you." It was the kindest warning she could muster, and Steve clamped his lips shut and stepped away.

"You can't just kick me out," Fred blustered, his mind scrambling to form a plan.

"I didn't. I never kicked you out. You chose this, Fred. You chose to question me at every turn. You chose to make everyone around you miserable. You chose to refuse to blend in, to join, to really become a member of the community. You chose to isolate yourself and be a blight on this town. You chose it, Fred. Not me. Not all these other people that got with the program."

"Got with the program? More like kissed your ass!"

The man was in a panic. Mother could see that Fred knew he was toast. He was fully aware that he went too far, and he was scared. Any other day, she might consider that enough. Any other day she might be able to tell herself that he learned his lesson and let him off the hook. But that day was just too powerful. That day put her through the wringer and she just didn't have it in her to be understanding. "Get out."

There would be no talking his way out of it. She was just like his ex-wife. The most he could do was take her down with him. "You're going to kick me out in the cold night, just like that, just because I disagreed with you, is that it?" He turned to the people. "You see? You see what kind of cold hearted bitch you've got at the helm? This is the person you're working for?"

"They're working for themselves, Fred. They're working for everyone else. That's what you've never understood and you never will!"

"Is there a problem here?"

Wolf was there and Mother felt stronger. "No problem. Fred was just leaving."

"You mean getting thrown out!"

Mother turned to Wolf. "He decided that Arlington wasn't a good fit for him. Would you give him a ride out of town?"

Wolf gave a nod and motioned toward the door.

"Now hang on!" Fred yelled. "Just hang on a minute. You can't throw me out. What am I going to eat?"

It was on the tip of Mother's tongue to tell him to eat dirt for all she cared, but she thought better of it. Fred was trying to make her look bad in front of the whole town, and even though she thought she probably deserved some heat, she couldn't let him infect them with his bitterness anymore. She needed to gain the upper hand, needed to redeem herself. "Steve, please go into the house and have Striker get you a case of food."

"Yes, ma'am."

Fred's eyes got even wider. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you a case of food to start your journey."

His mouth flapped like a fish out of water. "But...but...where am I going to sleep?"

"A tent, too," Mother called after Steve.

"A tent?"

"Yep. I have a stack of them in..." she was going to say "the basement", but Wolf had been hammering into her head not to tell where the best supplies were kept. "Striker knows. Tell him to get you a tent and a case of food. Vegetables, any kind." She turned to Fred. "I don't want it to be said I didn't send you off with the proper nutrition." There were a few snickers from the crowd and Mother felt like she won something, some invisible trophy that the town would carry for her.

"You can't do this," Fred protested quietly. "We can talk about this."

"I'm done talking, Fred."

"But..."

"I suggest you do as Mother says," Wolf said very calmly and quietly in Fred's ear.

The tense group waited in rapt silence until Steve returned. He carried a case of food, canned okra by the looks, and a brand new pup tent. "Looks like you're all packed up," Mother said. "Let's go."

Fred considered begging. He considered making a final plea to rally the rest of the crowd. He turned to look at them, but not a damn one would look him in the eye. Not one damn friend. He didn't make a single friend in all the time he was with these people. He was defeated. He defeated himself. He took a deep breath and walked to where he'd sat for dinner. He got his coat from the back of the chair and turned to follow Wolf and Mother out of his new life.

Wolf opened the door of the Jeep he had picked up somewhere over the last month. Fred climbed in and sat, and Mother joined them. "Let's make this quick," she said to Wolf. Wolf stepped on the gas and as the town flew past the windows, Fred sat in silence and wondered just what the hell he was supposed to do now.

They drove for about five minutes when Mother told Wolf she thought it was far enough. They were in the middle of a highway, with no signs of houses to the left or right, and only the dim glow of Arlington's lights behind them. Mother and Wolf got out, then Wolf opened Fred's door.

The man got out and stood on the side of the road. Mother felt that she had to say something. "It didn't have to be like this, Fred." The man said nothing, just looked down at his feet. Mother sighed.

"You show your face in town and you're a dead man, Fred," Wolf said.

Fred still wouldn't look at either of them. Mother held out her hand. "Believe it or not, I really do wish you well."

Fred refused to shake. He refused to admit defeat. Part of him wished they'd leave him a gun so he could just finish the job. He should take her hand, he thought. He should for once act like the big man he pretended to be. And yet, he didn't. He heard her sigh. He saw her hand drop in his peripheral vision and knew the time for him to act like a man had come and gone, and once again he failed. He heard their feet walking away and then heard the jeep start up. He heard them drive away. And then he dropped to the pavement and wept. He blew it. Once again, he blew it.

"You want to drive around for awhile?" Wolf asked when they were about a mile down the road.

Mother took another deep breath, refusing to let herself hyperventilate. "I need to get back to Coraline."

"You did good with Fred."

Mother snorted. "You know what? I don't even feel bad." She shook her head and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. "I should feel bad and I don't. I hate that," she almost whispered.

Mother would never know the image she presented that night. When Wolf returned with Chuck from ditching the soiled trash from the operation, he walked into a barn that was utterly transfixed by their leader. She was beautifully powerful in her rage. Her hair stuck up wildly, matching the crazed and determined look in her eye. She stood toe to toe with Fred, a man who outweighed her by a good hundred pounds and had at least five inches on her. Her fists were clenched at her side and she spat in his face with every word she yelled. No matter how Fred taunted, she didn't back down. And the crowd loved her for it. The blood all over her shirt, that just added to it all. Wolf had been around the very best public relations firms in the country, and not a damn one of them could have come up with a scene that would rally the troops the way Mother had naturally. She was doing it. She was becoming who she had to become.

"You didn't have to waste the food," Wolf pointed out. "No one would have thought less if you didn't give it away."

"And let him be right? No."

"Did you eat?"

Mother snorted.

"I'll bring you something while you sit with Coraline."

She was too tired to argue. They pulled up to the farm house and she jumped out. She walked straight for the little room and asked Eve for an update.

"Nothing's changed."

Mother didn't know if that was good or bad. She suddenly felt tired. So very, very tired. The weight of all she still didn't know pressed on her chest and she sat heavily in the chair.

"Um, do you think..." Eve stopped. She was going to suggest Mother change out of her bloodied clothes, but then she saw the tear roll down Mother's cheek. "I'll get you some coffee," she said quietly as she slipped out the door.

"I didn't like you," Mother confessed when they were alone. She leaned forward and put her head on the bed by Coraline's side. "I didn't like you. You annoyed the piss out of me. But I promise I didn't let you get hurt on purpose. I..." a sob choked back anything else she was going to say. She didn't hurt her on purpose. And she'd do her level best to make sure Coraline lived long enough to understand that.

Chapter 11

"Mother?"

She was dreaming of a hammock on a beach. She'd never swung from a hammock on the beach before but her dream self seemed to be very familiar with it. There was deep blue water and warm white sand and some kind of drink in a coconut.

"Mother," came the voice again, accompanied by a shake of her shoulder.

Her hammock disappeared. The deep blue water evaporated. The yummy drink in the coconut faded to be replaced with a bleary view of cheap wood paneling and Eve's face. Mother blinked once, twice, then bolted up. "Coraline?" She blinked several times, trying to get a grip on her surroundings. She was in her own bed. How did she get there? She threw the covers back and found she was in just a tee shirt, and her frown deepened. "What the hell?"

Eve looked decidedly uncomfortable as she held out a cup of coffee. "I've got some clothes for you over here."

Mother shook her head. It was throbbing. "Eve, start talking."

"I've got this," said Wolf, entering the room.

"It was his idea," Eve blurted out, then ran from the room.

Mother jumped up, then fell back down to the bed on weak legs.

"Drink your coffee," Wolf commanded.

Mother took a sip of the lukewarm brew, trying to figure things out. The last thing she remembered was sitting by Coraline's bed around dinnertime. "What time is it?"

"About nine."

She slept for three hours? She put the coffee down and quickly reached for the pants and clean shirt Eve left on the bedside table. "Shit. Any change?"

"Calm down. Coraline's fine. Take a deep breath and wake up for a minute."

"I have to get up there." She yanked the pants on and lay back on the bed to zip them up.

"Coraline's fine. Nothing is going to change in five minutes."

Mother sat up and ran a hand through her hair, then down her face to wipe the sleep away. God she felt groggy. She took another long sip of her coffee and tried to think. She didn't remember coming downstairs. She didn't remember getting into bed. Was she really so much of a zombie that she didn't remember leaving Coraline's side? "God my head hurts."

Wolf knew he had to fess up. She'd be pissed. He went into her bathroom and got her the bottle of aspirin. He shook out a couple and brought them to her.

"Oh my god thank you," she said in a rush of gratitude, tossing them back.

He had to fess up, and she'd be ripped. Fine. Let her. She'd get over it. He'd do it again if he had to. He got her some clean socks from her dresser and grabbed the boots he'd placed under her bed the night before.

"You're Mr. Helpful tonight," she said as she pulled on the socks. Then the coffee kicked in, her mind cleared and she frowned. Her eyes narrowed as she stared at Wolf. He wouldn't look her in the eye and he was going out of his way to be helpful and pleasant. "What did you do?"

Wolf almost smiled. Smart girl. "You needed sleep."

Mother's eyes went from suspicion to shock as she remembered the coffee he brought her in Coraline's room. For days he had been refusing her the brew, telling her she needed sleep, not more caffeine. And then he brought her manna, and everything was a blur after that. "You...drugged me?"

There was nothing to do but admit it. "Yup."

She jumped up and looked around for something to throw, something to hit him with. "I can't believe you'd do something like that!"

Oh no, she would not turn this around. Mother had sat by that woman's side for four solid days, barely eating, only catching a nap here or there. She was killing herself, and Wolf refused to sit back and let that happen. "And I can't believe I had to!" he bellowed in return.

Mother felt the rage and the desperation and the panic, all rolled into one. She tugged the other sock on, then shoved her feet in her boots. "What if she died, huh?"

"What if?"

His words stopped her. "Wolf!"

"I'm not here for her. My job is to keep you safe. That's what I did and I won't apologize." Even if he did kind of feel like a bastard for it.

Mother opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. What could she say? She trusted him. She thought he knew how important Coraline had become, how desperate she was to be there to do everything she could. "You're a real shit sometimes, you know that?"

"Yup."

Mother scoffed and pushed her way out the door, then stopped when she saw the thin light streaming in from the windows. "Nine _a.m._? I've been asleep all fucking night?" When Wolf shrugged, she raced up the stairs and ran to Coraline's room.

"Mother," said Coraline weakly as soon as the door burst open, and Mother felt her knees buckle, the relief washing over her in a warm wave. She gave a strangled sob and dropped to the seat next to Coraline.

"Holy shit you're awake."

The woman gave a wan smile. "That doesn't instill confidence coming from my doctor."

Coraline was weak. Now that she was awake, Mother could see just how pale her face really was. It was gray, and her eyes had deep, purple canyons under them. The bright red of the lid rims just highlighted how far Coraline had to go to before she was fully recovered, how tenuous her hold on life still was. Mother had to shake herself. Coraline was awake. The rest could be dealt with later. "I am so, so sorry."

Coraline shook her head. "It was an accident."

Mother swallowed hard, feeling the guilt of all the bad things she'd said, all the awful, mean thoughts she had about the woman. "I should have had a better system and made rules to keep you..."

"Stop," Coraline said softly. "It was an accident. I don't blame you." She swallowed and her eyes drooped.

Mother sat forward on her chair. "You need more rest."

"I got what I deserved," Coraline said, almost too quietly for Mother to hear.

"Don't say that," Mother said firmly. "No one deserves this."

But Coraline shocked her by smiling again. "You don't understand. I'm good now. I paid." Her eyes closed and she was quiet so long that Mother felt for a pulse. It was there, and Mother sighed in relief.

She thought about Coraline's words as she changed the wet diaper. It had been two days since there was anything of substance to clean, and Mother knew they had to start getting food and water into Coraline. She changed the bandage. It was ghastly, and some of the places they'd seared with the iron blistered. She spread salve over the stump as carefully as possible and wrapped it back up, placing the soiled bandages in a plastic bag for disposal. She covered the sleeping woman and couldn't help the smile. She had actually woken up. The scream that was never far from the surface calmed within, and after Mother checked Eve's carefully recorded timetable for Coraline's medication, she felt her stomach rumble with actual hunger.

Mother called for Striker, gave him instructions for sitting with Coraline, then went to the kitchen to get something to eat. She was hungry for the first time in...how long? It felt as if Coraline's waking had brought Mother out of some sort of coma as well, and she pulled a pot of leftover stew from the refrigerator. She dished up a bowlful and stood eating it cold, leaning against the counter.

"After you eat we've got some trouble brewing," Wolf said as he walked past her to get more coffee.

Mother put a bite of the cold stew in her mouth, not caring a bit what it tasted like, just needing the nutrients. She chewed slowly and looked at Wolf. He was proud of himself. He was actually proud of his little plan. She took another bite.

"You hear me?" he said, turning around.

"Yup," she replied dryly.

Wolf sighed. "Okay, let me have it. Get it out and you'll feel better and we can move on."

Mother pointed the dirty spoon in his direction. "You don't call the shots here."

Wolf shook his head. "Sure don't."

"You had no right."

On some level, he could concede. On some level, he felt he crossed a line. Wolf hadn't planned on explaining his actions to her, and probably wouldn't have if she'd come at him with both barrels blazing like he expected. However, she wasn't just mad, she was furious. Her eyes weren't angry, they were cold and calculating. "I did what I thought was best."

Mother snorted. "And took me from the town for how long? Jesus, Wolf! What if something had happened? What if they needed me?"

The muscle in Wolf's jaw twitched. "Yeah, because you were really there for them for the past four god damned days, weren't you?" He drained his coffee in one swig to give himself a few seconds to cool down. He was in the wrong, and he knew it. But, she was, too. He wiped his mouth and put the cup in the sink while Mother stared at him. "Look. I get how horrible that was," he said quietly. "I was there."

"And I did the cutting."

Wolf threw his hands in the air. "And it's your town! That's your job."

"I know!" Mother bellowed. "Good god don't you think I know that? And don't you think I know I failed them?" She shook her head and tossed the styrofoam bowl and plastic spoon in the trash bag. "I get it, Wolf. I get it." She pointed toward the hall. "I caused that. And I had to fix it. Don't you understand?"

Wolf couldn't tell her she was wrong, and that's not what Mother needed anyway. Though once again he wished he could be the friend, that wouldn't do any of them any good. "Yes, you did. And you won't do it again."

Mother liked the fact that Wolf was a straight shooter. Eve had been telling her for days it wasn't her fault and the platitudes and excuses grated on her last nerve. Of course it was her fault. It was all her fault. She sat at the top, she made the rules. Ultimately everything but the weather was her fault. Mother knew they were working with dangerous equipment and should have seen the need for more formal safety rules. There was no way Coraline should have been allowed to stand that close to the hole with the rock. Hell, there was no way Mother herself should have been there, for that matter. "No, it won't happen again."

"Good. And you also can't spend all your time with one person while the others flounder."

Mother's jaw clenched. It was true and she couldn't deny it. "It worked," she said for her lone defense.

That it did. Wolf was stunned when Eve called him up earlier to see that Coraline was actually awake. The woman lived through Mother's sheer will. He honestly believed that the only reason Coraline was alive was because Mother poured every ounce of her being into forbidding the patient to die. It would work for Mother. People would look back on the incident with awe. They would start to revere her, and that's exactly what she needed. But, that would be later. He wasn't kidding when he told her there was trouble brewing, trouble only she could deal with and nip in the bud. "There's trouble brewing," he said again.

"I haven't even begun to yell at you."

"I know."

"It's going to be a long time before I can trust you again."

Wolf knew he deserved it, no matter how much the words stung. "I did what you needed. You were a walking zombie who refused to listen to reason and you know it."

Mother scoffed. "You didn't even try, Wolf. You didn't even try to reason with me."

Wolf threw his hands in the air. There was no way to argue with someone when they didn't have a clear memory of the last four days. "Be mad. In your shoes I'd have probably pulled a gun and fired by now. You needed rest, and you were too damn stubborn to admit that, no matter what you're telling yourself right now."

They stood and stared at each other for long minutes. Mother was still furious, but she was also truthful enough to admit to herself that Wolf had a point. She didn't remember eating. She knew she didn't sleep. Eve had told her something about backlash from Fred, and she had ignored anything that did not have to do with Coraline. She didn't remember showering or leaving the room for more than a quick bathroom break.

So Wolf did have a point. But, she had one, too. With one action, he had stripped all of her power. He took away her ability to make the decisions for herself, and he didn't seem to understand just what that meant. She was out for fifteen hours. She was utterly useless for fifteen hours. Worlds could crumble in less time! It would take her a long time to forgive, and she'd never forget.

"If you ever do anything like that again, you're out."

Mother meant it. Wolf could see the deep sincerity in her eyes. She actually meant it. He couldn't help but be proud on some weird, twisted level. "Don't make me have to," he said simply.

"It wasn't my idea," said Eve, coming in with a stack of notebooks. She had waited in the den until she heard their voices become calm and felt the storm had blown over. One look at Mother was all it took for Eve to know that the storm had only reached the eye. There would be a round two for sure. _Good_ , Eve thought. Wolf deserved it. If anyone ever tipped something into her drink, she'd beat the shit out of them. Twice! "I told him you'd be pissed."

"I've got this, Eve," Mother said simply.

Eve clamped her lips shut and sat at the table, arranging notebooks. She'd just leave that one alone. "Okay, then," she said when she was all set up. "I've got Gus coming up. Since you decided to join the land of the living, we've got some issues we need to address."

"I told you there was trouble brewing," said Wolf.

Mother sat and listened as Eve spelled out all the problems in the town that had accumulated in four days. Gus came in at some point with his own list of problems, observations, and assessments. After a good hour, Mother rose to get some more aspirin. Her head was throbbing again. There was a broken pipe in one house. A fist fight broke out the night before at the community meal. Though the fields were mostly tilled, progress had been halted because of another mass of rocks that Gus believed was the old dumping ground, and should they shift that particular field? The people were getting sick of stew and wanted to see if there was good fishing in the lake, and their gas supply was getting dangerously low. The crackers the night before were stale, and two women were claiming they had food poisoning. Her head pounded with all the problems of the day.

"How can so much go wrong in only four days?"

Eve frowned. "It's no more than usual."

Mother opened her mouth to object, then closed it slowly. Eve was right. When she thought about it, the list only felt long because she was dealing with four days' worth at once. She frowned and downed her aspirin, grudgingly seeing more of Wolf's point. He gave her a look, too. Just a small quirk of his eyebrow from his perch on top of the counter. That one little look spoke volumes and she sent a glare his way.

"You do a lot more than you think," Eve continued.

Together they all worked out a plan to handle the issues, and formed the days' work schedule around the problems. Then they tackled the biggest one. People were shaken by Coraline's accident, and the deal with Fred frayed the raw nerves further. With Mother's silence and the worry for Coraline hanging over them for days, they began to question not only Mother, but the town itself.

"Some even talked about setting off for another Walmart," Gus said.

_Oh hell_. Mother had to fix it, and fix it fast. "It's just starting to work," she said to the group as she bit her bottom lip. "Don't they get that?"

"They're shaken up and scared," Gus explained. "Pardon me for sounding cheeky, but they need their mum right now." He raised one white, bushy eyebrow and she got the message loud and clear.

Mother glanced at the clock. "It's almost eleven and we're just getting work orders."

"I set them to cleaning up from winter," Eve said. "We had some branches down and stuff."

Mother tapped her fingers on the table. Everyone knew by then to keep quiet, that she was thinking. After a minute, she nodded to herself. "How far are we from being done the fields?"

Gus shrugged. "Depends on how much field you want cleared. We've got a shit ton done."

"We've got to do as much as possible. We don't want to say shoulda coulda in the middle of February when we're running short on food."

"We'll always say shoulda coulda," Gus pointed out.

It was a fair point. "Do you think we have enough room to plant?"

"I think we have as much as we can handle," he said pragmatically. "Remember, whatever we plow now with machines, we have to keep up with our hands and backs."

Mother decided he was right. "Okay. Then this is what we do. Today we get these jobs done and secure the equipment. Let's clean up from the tilling, get everything under tarps or something. We'll send the group up towards Jackson with the bus full of gas cans, and then another team will scout the lake."

"Can I scout the lake? I love fishing." The hope in Gus's eyes was unmistakable.

"Have you trained anyone else to run the tractor and backhoe?"

Gus nodded. "Steve's pretty good, and Mack turned out to have some construction experience."

"Fine. Have them move the equipment up, I'll go see about the broken pipe and the ladies with food poisoning..."

"They don't have food poisoning," Eve said. "They're hypochondriacs."

"And right now, even the hypochondriacs need placating," Mother pointed out. "I'll see to them, make sure the equipment is secure, and then have dinner with the town. Eve, you rotate with Striker for Coraline duty. I want to be notified if there are any changes."

Eve gave her a wry smile. "That mean you're actually going to carry a walkie today?"

Mother gave her a bland look. "Channel nine," she said. "Use it only in emergencies. I don't want that thing chirping over stupid shit."

"I never chirp over stupid shit," Eve said defensively.

"Really? So last week when Striker took too long in the shower and you called me up to tattle, that wasn't stupid?" Eve's face turned red. Mother made her point. "Then it sounds like we've got a plan," she said to the group. "Meeting adjourned."

They got ready and all headed out to the barn. Mother rang the community bell, then went in to pat Phil while the people straggled up the hill. She was shocked at how much bigger Phil seemed. "You got big in four days, baby," she cooed.

"He's not a baby, he's a full grown bull," Wolf said from behind the safety of the stall wall.

"You think the trouble over Fred is too far gone to fix?" Mother might be pissed at Wolf, but she still had a job to do. He was her sounding board, and that didn't change just because he screwed up.

"Not if you do something big."

Mother nodded. "That's what I was thinking." She kissed Phil's forehead and left the stall to wait for her people. When they were assembled, she could see that Wolf and Gus had been right. Where they looked at her with kindness and hope before, she now saw weary and leery glances, as if they were unsure about their lives once again. It was not good. She'd have to say something. She'd have to do something. What, she didn't know. She'd have to feel it out more as she worked with them through the day and decide where to go from there.

"Good morning." She made a show of looking at her watch. "Er, almost afternoon," she joked. There were a few smiles, but mostly people just stared. She took a deep, bracing breath. Right. "I'd like to start this little meeting by sharing some good news. This morning, Coraline finally woke up!" There were genuine smiles then, and people murmured to each other. Mother held her hands up. "She's not out of the woods yet, but she's awake and talking and that's more than we could have hoped for."

"Did you really cut off her leg?"

Mother didn't see the face of the person who asked. A woman. It almost sounded like Denise. "Yes," she said. "I did. The chain hit her leg with enough force to get stuck in the bone." She didn't want to scare them anymore than they already were, but in her experience, life was far more scary for people if they didn't know the facts. "The plain truth was that the bone was shattered, her leg was hamburger, and even if I was a surgeon, I don't know if I could have put it back together." She explained as calmly as she could, as doctors always had when they delivered hard news. Simple words delivered very deliberately. Don't show fear. Don't show emotion. The facts were nothing more than facts.

"I'm not a doctor," she continued. "We don't have one, and I'm putting Striker on a special assignment to try and find us one. But I did the best I could by Coraline, as I'll do for any one of you. I know I've been consumed by the job, but every single member of this town is important to me. I will fight to the death to keep you alive.

"We also need to design a set of safety procedures for the jobs we do. I'd appreciate any suggestions. Life is hard. Life is dangerous. We can't possibly see every potential pitfall, but we have to try. If anyone sees a place where a rule might save limbs or lives, please don't hesitate to point it out. I'm not a doctor. I'm not a farmer. I'm not a plumber or roofer or hunter. But I have to be. We all have to be. We all have to learn the skills our ancestors used to stay alive, to survive, to thrive. And we will. One by one we will learn it all. Right now, we need to help each other. Please speak up if you see something dangerous. It's not tattling, it's not meddling. It's simply saving lives."

People were turning. They were looking at her with less wariness again. Mother knew she was on the right track. But they still looked tired. Hell, weren't they? They looked like they needed a break, and inspiration hit. "After today's detail, we will have two free days. Tomorrow morning we will plan and raid and have ourselves a celebration!"

There were excited whispers, and she knew she said the right thing. "What are we celebrating?" someone asked.

"Spring. Coraline living. The ground being tilled and us being alive!"

The excitement grew. Wolf silently gave her a mental high five. Now that was how to get the town behind her again!

"Today we work. Tomorrow we plan and party our asses off, and Sunday we'll get ourselves a recovery day. Does that sound like a plan you can get behind?" The town cheered and she dismissed them to work.

"You didn't explain Fred," Eve said, jotting something down in her notebook.

"I won't."

"They're talking."

Mother sighed. "Let them talk. They saw everything that happened."

Eve frowned. "If you're sure."

Mother was. She decided to only discuss Fred if someone brought it up directly. They were all there. They saw for themselves exactly what happened. They'd either side with her, or not. Either way, they knew she had a breaking point, that she could be pushed too far. At the time she knew on some level that drawing the line in the sand in front of the entire town was the best thing Fred could have given any of them. "They don't even miss him. Let them party their faces off tomorrow and they will realize they're having fun without his bitching and moaning. Now. Off to work. And no fighting with Striker."

Eve put her hands up. "If he keeps his distance, I have no problem with the little nerd."

Mother sighed. Striker was proud of his status as head techie. Every day he was a little more confident. Yet Eve still did whatever she could to get under his skin, as if his very existence was an insult. Some day Mother would pin Eve down on why. But today, she had work to do. "Calling a 'geek' a 'nerd' will just make things worse. I mean it. Play nice."

Eve rolled her eyes and turned to walk up the porch, muttering something that made Mother bite her lip to keep from smiling.

"You think a party is a good idea?" Wolf asked when the yard was clear and they stood alone.

"I didn't ask your opinion," she said coolly. "Come on. There's work to be done."

The day passed quickly, and dinner with the people was a great success. The mood was definitely a lot lighter than it had been that morning as people chatted about the upcoming celebration. Already a group of women were planning everything from music to decorations to food. Mother chimed in as she ate, giving her approval for the raid to include a search for viable soft drinks and snacks. "Nothing more than a month out of code," she instructed, not knowing what the dangers of out of date chips would be, or even if there were any. They might just be stale. Harmless and stale. She made a mental note to look that up next time she was in the library. She gave her approval for the party to be in the barn and for people to decorate however they chose. And then the women asked about alcohol, and all other chatter in the barn stopped.

Mother chewed her bite of food and swallowed. In general, she was not a fan of alcohol. She saw firsthand what it did to fathers who didn't know when to stop. If a problem could be avoided, she'd do her level best to steer clear. However, her people were all adults. Hard working adults at that. Hard working adults that needed to vent off some massive steam.

"I tell you what," Mother said after careful consideration. "If we can be adults about it and hold our liquor, then yes, I'll allow alcohol." There were hoots and hollers, and Mother was surprised at the level of excitement. "But I want to make something clear," she said, holding her hands up to the group in general. "This is our first celebration. I hope it will be the first of many. We need good things in this life, too, and not just hard work and sore backs. But if it gets out of control, if fights break out or we discover we've got some mean drunks, I'll have a hard time granting permission again. Are we clear?" They said they were, and Mother truly hoped they meant it. It was a long time since they all actually got to unwind. She just hoped she wasn't making a mistake.

Mother stayed to help the people clean up after dinner, and hummed as she brushed down Phil. He didn't need it, but she wanted the contact. Wolf sat on the stall wall and watched, tense as he always was when she insisted on snuggling that potentially dangerous beast.

Mother stopped humming and turned to him. "I'm going to keep doing this, you know. I don't care how nervous it makes you."

She was challenging Wolf, and he accepted it. "I know."

"And if I get gored by this big old cuddle bear," she said, turning and rubbing her face on the space between Phil's horns like she knew the bull loved, "then you can say 'I told you so'."

"Seems fair."

Mother turned and resumed her brushing. "But until then, it's my call. And if I want to stay up for four days straight to take care of someone, that should be my call, too."

Wolf folded his arms across his chest. "Then where does my job stop?" he asked.

Mother's hand stilled and she tilted her head. She was expecting another heated argument. Instead, she got an annoyingly reasonable question that she really couldn't answer.

"You tell me the line," Wolf continued when Mother remained silent. "I'm supposed to protect you. Well, I was."

Mother snorted. "You picked the shittiest way possible."

"I picked the guaranteed way," Wolf defended. "Put yourself in my shoes." Mother's jaw tensed and Wolf could feel the steam coming off her. "Come on. Do it. Put yourself in my shoes."

"You put yourself in _my_ shoes for once."

To Mother's surprise, Wolf easily conceded. "I have," he said quietly. "And I'm sorry."

_He's sorry? Just like that, he's sorry. No whining, no excuses. He's sorry. He_ never _says he's sorry!_ Mother threw the brush into the bucket of Phil supplies and scoffed in disgust. "And just what in the hell am I supposed to say to that?" she asked, tossing her hands in the air.

Wolf's lips spread into a half-smile. "I think this is the part where you apologize for putting me in a difficult position in the first place. Then we shake hands, and get on with our lives."

He looked so smug that Mother wanted nothing more than to slap his face. The fact was, she had put herself in his shoes. In fact, if Wolf was the one sitting by Coraline for days, she would have done the same thing if someone suggested it. But that was not the point. "This is my town, Wolf. Mine. I have to be there if it succeeds or if it fails. There was so much more to Coraline than one woman living or dying."

Wolf nodded. "I know."

Mother felt like they were going in circles. "Then you know I had to be there!"

"For all of them," he said simply. He hopped off the railing. "And now you are."

Mother turned and snatched up the rake, too flustered, sad, and angry to say anymore. She could completely see Wolf's side, and that frustrated her more than anything else.

"I really am sorry," Wolf said softly, his voice so near making her jump. He was right at her back, and she spun around to look at him.

"But you'd do it again, and that's why we're going in circles," Mother replied.

Wolf cleared his throat. "You're making something good, and it's my goal to make sure you're still around to see what it becomes. I will do whatever it takes to make that happen. You're right. I'll do it again if I have to." Wolf's brain told to step back, to be hard and keep pushing her. Instead, his mouth opened and he spoke before he could stop himself. "Please. Please don't make me have to."

The soft request was so unnerving coming from Wolf that the rest of Mother's anger was swept away. Her heart raced and her cheeks burned, and she spun away from him and raked out the pen, needing to put distance between them so she could think. Wolf stepped back and leaned on the wall to watch her work in silence, wondering what in the hell had possessed him to ask anything of her. He gave commands for her safety, she followed. That was how a job worked. That was how he handled business because any other way could get someone killed. Or would make him care.

Wolf patted his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and caught Mother watching him. He folded his arms over his chest again and looked away. He watched her in his peripheral vision as she finished tending to Phil, then followed her in the house when she was done.

"I'm sitting with Coraline for awhile," she said over her shoulder. "Try not to drug me this time."

Wolf stopped the smirk on his face before she could see it. He turned around and went back outside for a smoke. With one snarky remark, Mother let him know they were back on firm ground, and as he lit a cigarette and looked out into the barnyard, the relief uncoiled the tension inside.

Mother opened Coraline's door quietly. "How's the patient?" she whispered to Striker.

"Okay," he whispered back, then frowned. "I guess. Hell, I don't know. She's been drinking a lot of water."

"Good," said Mother. "I'll take over for awhile."

Striker stood and gathered up the laptop and backpack he always carried with him everywhere. "She didn't want morphine this last time, but Wolf said to give it to her anyway. I gave her a half dose, so if she needs more, it's cool to give her a little. I wrote it down on Eve's chart. Wouldn't want to piss Miss Priss off."

Mother bit back a smile. "You two have to play nice."

"Tell that to her. I didn't do anything."

Mother patted his back. "Go get some dinner."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mother closed the door quietly behind him, then sat and looked over the chart by the glow of the bedside lamp.

"They gave it to me anyway," Coraline said softly.

Mother looked up and put the chart on the table. "Sorry if we woke you."

Coraline flicked her hand weakly. "I've been sleeping plenty."

"Are you in any pain?"

Coraline nodded. "But it's not more than I can handle. I hate that morphine."

Mother poured a glass of water and motioned for Coraline to sit forward. She noticed the wince when Coraline moved, but it was the woman's call whether or not she was drugged. "We can try something not as heavy if you want," she said once Coraline had taken a sip.

"I'd appreciate that."

Mother sat back and just stared at the woman she thought she knew, the guilt made worse by the fact that Coraline hadn't ripped her a new one yet. "I'm so sorry Coraline," she said again.

Coraline took a deep breath. "Don't. Unless it was a dream, I'm pretty sure I already told you I didn't need an apology."

"I should have..."

"No," said Coraline firmly. "You don't understand. I...I'm good now. I'm not angry."

Mother gave a small laugh. "You should be. You should be tearing into me good."

"I didn't mean about the leg," Coraline clarified with a small smile. "Though, I'm not angry about that, either. I mean, I'm not angry anymore. Not just about this, but about...everything." A tear rolled down her cheek, and Mother didn't want to upset the woman. But she sensed Coraline needed to say more, and just waited for her to continue.

"I lost my babies," Coraline almost whispered. "I wasn't strong enough to keep it away from them. They died and I didn't protect them." Her voice choked off.

"Oh, Coraline," Mother said, taking her hand. "It wasn't your fault."

"But it was. It was to me. I grew them inside. I brought them forward. I created them and then I didn't protect them." Coraline looked at Mother with a wise sadness in her eyes. "I was so...angry. Guilty. I let my babies die, and I had the audacity to keep on living." She sniffed and ran the back of her hand over her eyes, and Mother had no idea what to say. "And I carried them around in me. I carried that pain and anger and I just wouldn't die." Her chest heaved in a deep sob, and Mother sat forward.

"Coraline, maybe you shouldn't..."

"No. I have to get this out." She swallowed hard and hiccuped. "I wouldn't die. I just wanted to die. And I couldn't bring myself to put a gun to my own head. I wanted to join them so badly, and I just couldn't do it. You have no idea how I've hated myself. It made me mean, and I'm not mean. Honestly I'm not mean." She was crying heavily then, and Mother's guts twisted for the woman. She sat on the edge of the bed and put her arms around Coraline and simply held her while she wept.

"And now, it's gone," Coraline said quietly a long time later when she could finally speak again. "It's just gone. I paid. I did my penance and now...I feel clean."

Mother was shaken. It didn't make any sense to her. Coraline acted as if she deserved the awful accident, as if some force made it happen to her to make her atone for what really had nothing to do with Coraline in the first place. She didn't kill her children, and it was horrifying for Mother to find out that's how Coraline had been feeling. She wasn't responsible for whatever virus carted them away. Part of her wanted to shake Coraline, to make her listen to reason, to scream some sense into her. You can't protect people from everything, she wanted to shout. Part of her wanted to hold Coraline forever, a woman so beautifully devoted to her children that she'd tear her own self to pieces for them, for merely the memory of them. And part of her wanted to break down and weep for having never loved anyone as much as Coraline loved those babies.

Coraline let out a watery laugh. "And now I've gotten snot all over your shirt."

Mother placed a kiss on Coraline's head. She didn't know why, she just did it. They had been through something monumental together, and she knew she'd never look at Coraline with anything but a deep love and admiration. She moved off the bed and sat back in the chair, wiping her own eyes she hadn't realized were crying and sniffling. "It's okay. Looks like I got my own snot on my shirt, too. Guess we're just big blubbery messes."

Coraline looked tired. She looked utterly wrung out. And yet, she smiled. As Mother mopped up Coraline's tears and held the tissue Coraline was too tired to bring to her own nose, Coraline smiled. "I'm so sorry for being a royal bitch."

The simple admission made Mother want to cry again. She laughed instead, brushing it off. "I'm no peach, either, Coraline."

Coraline took Mother's hand. "Cora. I used to be called Cora and I think I'd like that again." She gave Mother's hand a squeeze and kissed it. "Thank you. Thank you for keeping me here. I don't know what I'm going to do, but you know what? I think it's something. For the first time in months, I think maybe there's a reason I'm still here."

By the time Coraline was finished speaking, she was already falling asleep. Mother tucked her in and sat back in the chair, simply staring at the new woman. That's what she was. Coraline didn't lay in the bed. Angry, mean, bitchy Coraline was gone. Mother sat and stared at the woman on the bed for hours, thinking about everything that had happened between them, everything they'd been through, everything that was said. There was a peace in the room now, some intangible shift in the atmosphere and Mother let herself drift to sleep to the gentle comfort of Cora's soft, easy snore.

Chapter 12

"We got ourselves a regular hootenanny in the making," said Gus the next afternoon as he strung up yet another crepe paper star. "Hand me a tack," he called down the ladder.

Mother had come into the barn to check on the progress and couldn't believe what she saw. The entire place was decorated with rolls of crepe paper and a hodgepodge of colorful crepe paper stars. They'd even decorated the posts and cross slats of Phil's stall, and the bull stood licking the salty dyed paper. Mother didn't think it would hurt him, and he seemed very content with his new snack. She handed Gus one of the tacks from the box on the ladder rung and gave him a smile. "Boy, you guys are really going all out, eh?"

"No half-assin' it for this crew. We are the official decorations committee, don't you know." He said the last bit in a haughty voice that mimicked Marissa, the elderly woman who put herself in charge of overseeing the party planning, and Mother snorted.

"Well, lah dee dah. And here I was thinking I was talking to regular folk."

Gus beamed down at her, a twinkle in his eye, and Mother was once again very pleased with her decision to hold the party. All of the citizens had a bounce in their step and a buzz of excitement almost pulsed with electricity at the morning breakfast.

"You're doing a great job, Gus," she said in sincerity.

"We aim to please, ma'am." He went back to hanging stars, and Mother moved on to the snack table. Several people were unloading boxes of chips and cookies they'd found on the raid, and she took a bag of sour cream and onion chips and looked at the date. She shook her head. "Jesus these things have a long shelf life." The chips didn't go out of code for another month. "They were made when? Probably last August?"

"Makes you wonder just what the hell the 'preservatives' they list in the ingredients are," said Denise as she unpacked some boxes of cookies. "You really want your mind blown? Here." She tossed a box of cookies to Mother. "Check that out."

"December?"

Denise nodded. "Makes you sick to think about, doesn't it?"

Mother had to grin. "Yeah, but boy do they taste good!"

Denise threw her head back and laughed. "You said it, sister!"

Mother moved on, looking over the beverage table. She didn't bring out the alcohol yet, and wouldn't until the party started. She needed to feel in control of it, and with everyone scattered far and wide while they prepared for the party, she didn't want anyone dipping into the supply early. She and Wolf would bring out the two cases of hard liquor and the four cases of beer she decided to allow for the party after she made her opening speech and the music began.

Cora had eaten breakfast that morning, and kept it down. As she ate, Mother told her about the party plans and asked if she felt up to making an appearance. "Steve found you a wheel chair." Cora had declined, but Mother promised to open the window if it was a warm enough evening so she could hear the music. Cora had eaten and fallen asleep without morphine, and Mother truly felt the woman would make it. One less leg, but more complete in the ways that mattered.

The raiding mission for party supplies and snacks had been a resounding success. There were party hats and blowers, poppers and small fireworks. Striker had rigged up a stereo and big speakers, and was downloading music from the internet for the night's festivities as the unofficial DJ. Wolf and Mack were setting up a port-a-potty outside. When they had first pulled up dragging it on a trailer behind the jeep, Mother thought it was ridiculous.

"I don't want a bunch of drunks in the house," Wolf said when Mother pulled him aside.

"They're not drunks, their our friends."

"No, they're your citizens." When Mother opened her mouth to protest further, Wolf shut her up with one astute observation. "Think of Cora. You think she wants to hear a parade of drunk assholes thumping through the halls all night?"

That did it, and Mother gave her permission as Wolf knew she would. Mack knew how to set it up. He'd been in charge of that particular task on job sites when he was in construction, and had it in place and level in no time. "We might want another," he told Wolf. Wolf turned to Mother.

"I think one's enough. It's only for the women, anyway. The guys will piss on the side of the barn." Gross, but true. She'd been to enough parties to know that.

As day turned to late afternoon, Marissa approached Mother. "Those of us on the committee took a poll," she said, sounding very business-like. Mother had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling. Gus's imitation had been spot on. "And if you don't mind, most of the town would like a little while to get changed."

"Changed?"

Marissa looked shocked. "Yes, changed. We can't very well attend a function in these dirty clothes!"

Mother laughed then, but quickly patted Marissa's arm. "Of course. It just never occurred to me. You think of everything!" Marissa beamed under the compliment. "By all means." Mother clapped her hands to get the attention of the group. Most of them were done their preparations and stood milling around the barnyard under the late March sun. "I think we should all break for a couple hours and get cleaned up. Dinner will be part of the party buffet, so there will be no standard meal. Let's meet back here at six. And don't forget your dancing shoes," she called as the group broke up and headed down the hill.

Mother went inside and helped Eve open cans of meat. They combined some canned beef and chicken with crumbled up, stale crackers. Eve dumped in a bunch of bread crumbs, and lamented the lack of eggs. Mother added to her constant mental list: find chickens. They managed to get the meat to stick together enough to form meatballs, and though they didn't taste exactly right, and the texture was a bit weird, it was the closest thing any of them had to a meatball in months, and Mother knew they'd be a hit.

Eve took jars of grated cheese and dumped them into another bowl. They were found at a grocery store during the raid, and hadn't yet been entered into the town supply. None of the food they were using had. Mother had justified using so much food for the party by saying that, and Eve went along with it because damn if it wouldn't feel good to stuff themselves just once. She added more crumbled crackers to the cheese, then some spices and water. She flattened the mix into little patties, and after some experimentation with heat and amounts of oil, she was able to fry up little crunchy, cheesy patties.

Mother bit one, breathing in cool air quickly. "Hot."

"They just came out of boiling oil. What did you expect?" Eve said with a wry smile.

"Good. Hot but good." Mother licked the oil off her fingers. "Where did you learn to cook?" She instantly felt bad for the question. She did not want anyone to pry into her life, and tried very hard never to ask anything personal about anyone else's life before. "Sorry."

"You know I don't care," said Eve. She always had to tell Mother the same thing. She was an open book. She honestly didn't care what Mother asked her. "My dad owned a catering business that he turned into a country club. I used to help before it got big and moved out of our kitchen."

Mother leaned back against the counter and drank some water to cool her burnt tongue. "You couldn't have been very old." Shit. She was prying again.

"I wasn't. Dad moved the operation into the country club building when I was ten. I guess some things you learn when you're young just stick." Eve scooped out a batch from one pan, turned the patties in another, and dropped fresh patties in a third. "We need a bigger stove," she muttered, jostling the pans around the small stove top, trying to get even heat.

Mother stroked her chin. They did. She added that to the list inside, and then added a note to talk to Mack about construction. Which lead her to remember that she wanted to add a whole room to the house for Cora, which lead her to remember the handicapped ramp she wanted to build...

"Stop thinking. Tonight's for fun," Eve said, pointing her greasy spatula in Mother's direction. "Go get all gussied up."

Mother smiled. "What about you?"

Eve waved the spatula towards herself. "And what could I possibly improve on?"

Mother threw her head back and laughed. Eve was a little spitfire, and as she grew stronger, she was certainly a force unto herself. "Fine, Miss Perfect. I'll just take my sad sack self down to the dungeon and see if the witch has some magic brew to take away my ogrishness."

Eve frowned. "Oh, stop. I didn't mean..."

"Ogrishness isn't a word," said Wolf, coming in the room to trade his walkie talkie for a freshly charged one from the bank of charging stations Striker installed on the counter.

Mother turned and hunched her back, dragging her leg behind her and snarfling like some monster from the deep. "Igor get pretty, master," she said in a voice that cracked Eve up.

Wolf stared after her and shook his head. "She's so weird."

"And you love it," Eve said pointedly, before turning back to the cooking.

Mother took her shower, but didn't plan on putting anything fancy on for clothes. The party was for her citizens, and while she intended to be there and have a good time, she decided to only participate so for. She needed to keep her eyes open and alert and watch for trouble. And she needed to be able to be the authority figure if the unwanted actually happened. She selected clean clothes and a warm surplus jacket to wear in the cool evening, then headed up to spell Eve at the stove and let her have a chance to really dress up. "Go," Mother insisted. "You're too young to be cooped up in here all the time. Go be young tonight."

An hour later, the townspeople had gathered and Wolf was on high alert. He made sure Mother had a knife, a walkie, and a gun strapped on her belt in plain view. She had protested, but it was useless. "The gun's not even loaded for god's sake."

"They won't know that." He tightened the holster until the gun sat in view between the panels of the open jacket. "You'd be surprised at how far just seeing a gun will go to keep people in line."

Mother smiled wryly. "Aren't you always saying not to pack anything I won't use?"

Wolf was surprised. So often she seemed like she didn't listen when he talked or attempted to train her. He was pleased at least some of it sank in. "If it comes down to that, you won't have time to pull it anyway." He handed over the walkie. "I'll be right there, too."

Mother clipped the walkie on her belt. "I feel ridiculous. This is a party, not an invasion." It was futile to say words she knew would fall on deaf ears, and she made her way out to the party acutely aware of the unfamiliar heaviness of her belt. She felt like she waddled as they walked through the crowd.

When the gathered townspeople parted to let her through to the makeshift dance floor they set up under strings of Christmas lights, Mother whistled in true admiration for all the hard work. "All I can say is wow." She motioned toward Marissa. "Let's give the decorations committee a round of applause. I honestly can't believe this is the same barn!" The group cheered and clapped and Marissa beamed. Mother took the opportunity to look at her people. As Marissa said, they all took advantage of finally having an occasion and were all cleaned and polished. The men had their hair combed, and several had shaved off the months of beard growth. There were a couple suit coats, and several women wore dresses. And everyone looked fresh and excited, the first time Mother had ever seen this side of her people. She felt a welling emotion clog her throat and had to clear it before she could speak.

"I can't believe this barn, but more importantly, I can't believe us. Look at us. Just a few months ago we were dragged out zombies. Now look. We've got a home. We've got houses. We've got fields that we plowed and we're actually about to plant food. We've come so very far." She saw the smiles, heard the sniffles that matched her own. "Wow. That's all I can say. Did any of you ever think you could do this? Did any of you ever think you could be so strong? So amazing? Because I didn't think I could. I didn't think I could step up and be a farmer. I didn't think I could be a doctor. I didn't think I could keep pushing ahead and build something new.

"That's what we're doing, isn't it? We're building. We're actually fucking doing it." There were laughs and titters at the language, and Mother rode the high of shared good feelings and ran with it. "We're doing it. We lived through, and now we're actually living on. We took this empty town and we're making it our own!"

The crowd was loudly applauding and cheering. It was the biggest show of support Mother had known yet, and her heart swelled with pride. Her people were backing her. Her people were behind her. And as she said the words that just spilled out, she truly meant them. "We took something old and broken and we're turning it into something new. We've got challenges every single day, and we're facing them. Are we running? No! Are we hiding? No! Are we cowering like scared little children?"

"No!" the crowd answered for her.

"We're taking this life and we're making it our own! Arlington is gone. It was their life. It was their hopes and their dreams. We're taking what they left and making it ours." A thought struck and she went with it. "I am officially declaring Arlington is done." She chopped her hand through the air for emphasis. "Arlington is over, and while it was great while it lasted, it's gone. We're here, not them. From this day on, I'm declaring this our new life, our new town. From this day forward, we are all residents of Newton!"

Wolf watched Mother from across the makeshift stage and wondered again how it was that such a young, untrained girl could do what professionals could not. She was magic. She had "it", that spark that made people listen, that desire that made them follow, and that intangible essence that defined a truly good leader. Newton. It was brilliant. He wondered if she had been mulling it over or if it just came to her on the fly. If he was a betting man, he'd put his money on it being a spontaneous thought. They were behind her. The people were almost in a frenzy of good cheer. Wolf's frown deepened. It was working, and while it was a milestone for her, it was just the start of hard work for him.

"Starting tomorrow, I want every sign in town that says 'Arlington' to be removed!"

"Don't we get a hangover day?" called someone from the crowd, and everyone, including Mother, laughed.

"Okay, okay," she said, holding up her hands. "Then Monday we take all the old signs down." It was time to bow out. Nothing she could possibly say now would go over any better, and she wanted to leave them on a high. "Now, Mr. Wolf, if you'd help me with the booze, we'll get this party started!" She cued Striker to start the music and trotted to the house with Wolf.

"Who writes your speeches?" he asked when they were lifting the first of the boxes from the basement.

"Too much?" she asked, still grinning from her high.

"I'd say just about damn perfect."

It was perhaps the only true compliment Wolf had given her, and she almost bounced up the stairs in spite of the heavy case she carried. Newton. It wasn't her intention to rename the town, but it just hit her while she was up there. New lives, new town. And boy, did the people rally behind the idea. Newton. They were Newton.

Damn perfect, indeed.

Chapter 13

Mother suspended the clean out of new buildings during the planting. She made everyone put their efforts into the production of food, not the destruction of waste. Once their grains were in, they spent the last part of April and the better part of May tilling and prepping as many vegetable plots as they could reasonably care for, and by the end of May, had tomatoes, onions, cucumbers, pumpkins, zucchini, and herbs starting to grow in the front yards of the townspeople. Everyone would be responsible for their crops, but if they needed help, neighbors would pitch in. It was the only way they could think of to care for so much with so few hands. Nearly fifty people sounded like a big work force, but when it actually came down to it, the sheer amount of work they had to do threatened to overwhelm everyone.

Yet they pushed forward. During planting, days were long and they worked until there simply wasn't enough light. After planting, when grains and vegetables were in and the town was suffering under an unexpectedly warm early heat wave, Mother gave them all a week off while she regrouped. She spent her time planning, using Striker's skills to gather up as much information as she could, trying to see every aspect of the future of Newton. It wasn't until late June when she caught the whiff of rot carried on a strong wind after a brutal thunderstorm that she knew the clean out had to resume.

Chuck was eager to get back to work. He threw himself into the job with a gusto that Mother had to appreciate. It was creepy, but she still appreciated it. More and more, though, he and the handful of helpers were secluded from the rest. After long meals of careful observation, it became clear that the clean out crew themselves were just as much to blame, and she determined to let it run its course. If they needed space, they'd get space. She'd just keep an eye out for trouble against them.

The first burn in months took place the last week in June, and Mother stood in front of the pile wishing to be anywhere but that hot, sticky mountain top in front of a blazing fire. She had long since stopped wearing the rebreather mask, having gotten used to the smell, and was very glad she didn't have to wear yet another layer of gear that would just make her sweat more.

"Jesus. Think it's going to be this hot every year?" she called over her shoulder to Wolf.

Wolf pretended nothing bothered him, but away from the eyes of the townspeople, even he had removed his trench coat and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He sat on a log he long ago rolled to the edge of the clearing and stared down into the valley below, wishing he could dive into the silvery river he could see by the light of the moon. It looked so cool, so refreshing.

"I would have thought those thunderstorms would break the heat," Mother continued. She always liked to talk during the burns, even though Wolf usually just sat and kept to himself. It kept her focus on anything but the task at hand. "You bring any water?"

"Yup. In the truck."

Mother jammed her poking stick into the soft dirt around the burn pile and walked to the truck. She found the bottles of water under the seat and cracked one open. She took a deep swig, then wiped her sweaty face on the towel she kept in the glove compartment. Usually she used it just to wipe off the worst of the ashes. She finished one water, grabbed another for Wolf, and slammed the door. She walked around the blaze and handed Wolf a bottle, which he took with a nod of his head.

"That's five hundred," she said, nodding to the fire.

"Five hundred what?"

"Shells," she said.

"You count them?" For some reason the thought horrified Wolf.

Mother shrugged and walked back to her poker. She pulled it out of the ground and pushed coals around. The fire hadn't been burning long enough to get a really good bed going yet, but even poking around in the coals was better than standing around bitching about the heat. There was a pop and she stepped back automatically, knowing the pile was about to shift, and as she did so, she lifted her gaze and stared through the flames into eyes.

Mother's heart thumped loudly in her chest and her grip tightened on the stick. A man stood across the fire staring directly at her. He was tall and dark, his eyes sharp and clear, and Mother got the distinct impression of danger.

"Wolf," she said calmly.

Wolf rolled his head to get the kinks out of his neck. God he hated the heat.

"Wolf," Mother said again with more urgency in her voice. The man across from her quirked an eyebrow. "We have a guest."

"What?" Wolf glanced over his shoulder, then jumped up and was by her side in the blink of an eye.

"Calm down, agent," the man said, holding up his empty hands. "I'm unarmed."

Wolf stared at the man for a second before his eyes narrowed. "I don't fucking believe this."

Mother looked from Wolf to the stranger. "You know him?"

Before Wolf could answer, the other man's face broke into a wide smile. "How ya doin', old dog"?"

"What are you doing here?" Wolf asked. Mother could feel the tension radiate off him.

"I'm checking out the great Newton, of course."

Mother had enough. "Who the hell are you and what do you want with my town?"

The man turned his smile on her. "And this must be Mother." He waved a finger at her. "If you didn't want people stopping by, you shouldn't have put out the invitation."

"What do you want, Stealth?" Wolf all but growled.

"Stealth?" Mother looked back across the flames.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, taking a small bow. "At your service. I take it you've heard of me?"

Mother shook her head. "No. Should I have?"

Stealth put a hand to his chest. "You mean your puppy dog didn't fill your head with tales of my debauchery and dastardly deeds? You wound me, Wolfie."

Mother was hot. She was tired. She had PMS and was decidedly cranky and in no mood for stupid games. She rubbed her temple and looked at Wolf. "Start talking."

"As I just said, this is Stealth. I don't know about debauchery, but he's a stone cold killer."

"Hey," said Stealth.

"A mercenary," Wolf clarified.

Mother saw anger flash in the firelight that caught in Stealth's gaze. "No more than you, agent."

The vein in Wolf's forehead throbbed. Mother had never seen him so angry. "Whoa, now. Let's all just take it easy..." she said, placing her hand on Wolf's forearm in an effort to calm him down.

"You have no business here," Wolf said, ice in every syllable.

"I don't think that's for you to decide," Stealth said, tipping his head to Mother. "I don't think that's ever been for you to decide."

The bastard was right, and Wolf turned to Mother. "He's a hired gun. A trained killer. He has no business here."

Mother turned to Stealth. "Are you here to kill me, then?"

Stealth let out a loud laugh that echoed in the night. "Oh, sweetheart. If I was going to kill you, you'd be dead. Even your lap dog can tell you that."

Mother looked to Wolf. He was fighting some internal war, but she knew he wouldn't lie.

"It's the truth," Wolf admitted grudgingly, as if the words themselves were made of acid.

Mother sighed. "Well that's good. I'd hate for him to join the pile so soon into all this." She waved a hand around her head and Stealth laughed again.

Stealth had spent a week watching. At one point, he was sure Wolf caught on. But no, the man was slipping, and that did not bode well for the woman they called Mother. He'd heard of Newton at the last base he visited. Apparently, Newton had a techie that was hijacking all kinds of government information, and the army was none too pleased. Not only were there fifty or so people who had organized away from an army base, but they decided to actually search for information as well. He had left that base and started east to check Newton out for himself when he stopped in a tent settlement. Once again, he heard the name Newton, as the people from that tent community were heading to the same place. They told Stealth about the leader, this Mother person who was inviting people to share information and trade knowledge. He double-timed it to town after that, his interest thoroughly piqued.

Stealth spent a week watching the town, watching her. She wasn't what he expected. For one thing, she was far younger, and he wondered why people listened to her at all. But they did. They all did. He watched and got a feel for the daily cadence of the town. He watched the different groups work in the fields or build on to the big farm house at the top of the hill. He watched them lead in three new cows and wondered at the impromptu celebration that night.

But it was the funeral that made Stealth sure he wanted to stay and learn more. The previous morning, in the heavy, rolling fog, the townspeople began to gather in the barnyard. Intrigued, he watched as a woman in a wheel chair was rolled down a ramp by Mother. The woman was loaded into a jeep, then the townspeople walked behind the vehicle as they slowly made their way to a grassy field. Stealth followed, close enough to see but never be seen, and watched as they crossed the field, something placed in the lap of the woman in the wheelchair. A hole had been dug under a tree, and the white sheet-wrapped object was taken off the woman's lap and put into the ground. Mother said some words, and as she spoke, it became clear they were holding a funeral. At first, Stealth thought that maybe the thing in the sheet was the wheelchair lady's baby. Mother sang a sad song, and her voice was surprisingly good. Just when Stealth was sure the woman in the chair would break down, she began to laugh. And Mother laughed. And the town laughed, and then they packed up and left. It was such an amazingly bizarre scene that he had to know the story or he'd die of curiosity.

So he had watched them that evening and followed up the hill. He hung back until the fire blazed and there was a wall of safety, then stepped out. As he stood and watched the play of emotions across Mother's face, the thoughts he swore he could see forming in her eyes, he was glad he stayed.

"I'm not here to kill you," Stealth explained. "I'm here to warn you. And if you'll call off your guard dog, I'll come over and formerly introduce myself."

Mother looked to Wolf. "Your call," he said in a clipped tone that told her exactly what he really thought of it. She hesitated only a second before nodding.

"Fair enough," she said to Stealth.

The man grinned and pulled a scarf up over his mouth, then stepped around the fire and stuck out his gloved hand. "I'm Stealth."

Mother shook his hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

His eyes crinkled with his smile. "The pleasure is all mine." Wolf snorted and Stealth turned his attention on the man. "Oh, yes. Best not leave you out, agent. Nice to see you, too."

Mother felt the tension in Wolf, and knew it was about to snap. "You must be roasting with that scarf on," she said, trying to get Stealth's attention off Wolf.

Stealth stopped trying to stare Wolf down. He had never been able to crack the agent, and never would. Still, it was fun to try. He turned his eyes to Mother. "Roasting or not, I said I wasn't here to hurt you, and I meant it. I've been around some tenties you haven't."

"Tenties?"

He nodded. "Yes. Roaming bands of people living in tents. Tenties."

Mother nodded slowly. Made sense. "Still, it's got to be uncomfortable."

Stealth shook his head. "I don't mind. Keeps you safe, keeps me from picking up anything here."

It was something she hadn't considered. Different germ pools, new problems. "Shit. We've got that group coming up from Ohio," she said to Wolf.

"Do a quarantine," Stealth said, settling himself on the log Wolf had abandoned. "Six week standard should do."

Wolf ground his teeth together. Town stuff, as he put it, wasn't his business, but it grated that Stealth thought of things he did not. He watched Stealth take a bottle of water from his backpack and take a quick drink before putting the scarf back in place.

"Wolfie here knows the protocols."

Mother quirked an eyebrow, and Wolf determined to fill her in later. "What is it you want, killer?"

Stealth shrugged. "What everyone wants, old buddy. A home. A wife. A family. I have hopes and dreams too, you know."

_What an odd man_ , Mother thought. She had no doubt Wolf was right. Stealth exuded a dangerous aura and when Wolf called him "killer", Stealth couldn't hide the effects of the truthful words. And yet, he laughed. And yet he joked. He clearly knew Wolf well, and kept calling him agent. Did they work against each other in the past? She sat down and decided she definitely wanted to know more. "IRA and fancy home?"

Stealth's smile spread. "You know it, baby."

"Cut the shit," Wolf said harshly. "What do you want here?"

"I find myself at ends, big dog." He turned his look to Mother. "I'm a compatriot without country."

Wolf scoffed. "Oh please. You're loyal to one person and one person only."

"Careful, agent. You overstep your bounds."

The tone of Stealth's words sent a chill up Mother and she tugged on Wolf's pant leg to get him to sit. "Let's all stop talking in circles. You two clearly know some insider info I don't, and frankly this pissing contest is already old."

Stealth laughed. "Oh, Wolfie, you found a good horse to back this time!"

Wolf sat. He didn't want to. He wanted to get rid of an old problem once and for all. But that was clearly not what Mother wanted, and he sat down, stiff and tense and ready. That Stealth could be in town and he hadn't even known scared the shit out of Wolf. "State your business and move on," Wolf commanded.

Stealth knew when he was about to push someone too far. It was his job to know. And right now, he was a hare's breath away from crossing the line with Wolf. He'd come close in the past, he looked forward to stepping right up to the edge in the future. But he wasn't stupid. He knew if push came to shove, it was a coin toss who would come out of a scuffle between them alive. "I heard about Newton and thought I'd come and see if my services could be used."

Mother's eyes went comically wide and it was all Stealth could do to not laugh. "I don't need anyone killed," she said in horror.

Stealth looked to Wolf and they shared a look of understanding. All differences aside, they both understood what she did not. She didn't need anyone killed _yet_. But she would. If she kept pushing forward, if she kept inviting people to her town, if she kept growing and gaining, the day would come where she most definitely would. The look of understanding passed between the two men, and Stealth took Wolf's unspoken warning. He'd tread lightly. "I assure you my talents vastly exceed killing. I'm a multitasker, really." He smiled to put her at ease. Wolf was annoying, but his lead had never failed Stealth yet and he'd follow.

Mother snorted. "Let me guess. You can kill _and_ maim. Thanks, pass."

Stealth slapped his knee and hooted. "Oh, I like this one!" He shook his head and his eyes twinkled. "I happen to be a highly trained operative," he explained.

"Like a spy?"

There was a child-like excitement in her eyes that scared Stealth. Jesus, what was he getting into? Could she honestly be that young? A respect for Wolf and what he'd no doubt been through so far grew. "Like a spy," he said, with little humor.

"I don't need one of those either."

Wolf hated Stealth. He was a loose cannon with an utter lack of morals. He had no loyalty, he worked for the highest bidder. Stealth represented everything Wolf determined he'd never let himself become. But damned if the man wasn't right. He hated Stealth, but if the man could be trusted, he'd be an asset. "Why don't you let me catch up with my old friend?" Wolf said with no trace of a smile.

Mother leaned toward Wolf. "This is definitely town crap," she said quietly.

"This is definitely security crap," Wolf countered. Mother gave him a bland look and he shrugged. "Fine, it's both. So let me see what he's really up to and then you can decide from there."

Stealth didn't have to hear the conversation to know what was being said. He took another sip of his water and watched the interaction between the two. Everything about Mother's stance said she trusted Wolf completely, and everything about Wolf's said he was in deep. Interesting. He'd never seen Wolf take an actual interest in the person before, just the job. He'd beg if he had to, but Stealth was determined to stay through the winter, if only for the entertainment of watching Wolf squirm. The little discussion ended, and Mother stood and walked to the other side of the fire. Though she kept her eyes on them, she was far enough away so they could speak without being heard. Still, when Wolf walked over, he sat on the log next to Stealth, but faced away from Mother. Interesting indeed.

"Why are you really here?"

"Don't beat around the bush, old buddy."

"I'm not your buddy."

Stealth sighed at the venom in Wolf's voice. "But you could be."

Wolf didn't want to be, and they both knew it. "Either you start talking or..."

"You're slipping, agent," Stealth said in all seriousness. "I've been in town a full week."

The hairs on Wolf's neck stood up. He wanted to believe Stealth was just blowing smoke up his ass, but he couldn't. Hell, he knew he was slipping. He was all by himself in a job that should have had at least four others. He couldn't defend himself and didn't even try.

"The real question is," continued Stealth when Wolf remained silent. "What the hell are you doing here? What's she playing at?"

"Making a town."

Stealth snorted. "And then?"

Wolf shook his head. "No then. That's the plan. Make a town."

"What she's making is enemies."

Wolf knew she would eventually, but he was surprised it was happening so soon. "Who?"

"Who do you think? Come on. I know you've been holed up in this little corner of the woods for awhile now, but you know the players. The government, and right now, that's army."

Wolf frowned into the night. "What does the army care? Let her have her town."

Stealth laughed and caught Mother's gaze from the other side of the fire. She was standing so close to the flames that even from his vantage point, he could see the sheen of sweat on her brow. "Why does she do this herself?" Stealth asked, distracted by the sight.

Wolf frowned and glanced over his shoulder. "The burns?" When Stealth nodded, Wolf turned back towards the dark night. "She doesn't want anyone else to have the nightmares."

Stealth felt a weight settle on his shoulders as he stared at the mysterious woman across the fire. "You're not fucking with me, are you? She really is what she seems."

Wolf turned to look the man in the eye. "Yes." Stealth swore. Wolf had to agree.

"Jesus, Wolf. They're going to eat her alive, you know."

"Don't you think I fucking know that?" Wolf hissed.

The heated panic in the cool agent's voice told Stealth everything else he needed to know. "I'll stay and help."

Wolf wanted to reject the offer. In fact, if it had been about the town, or himself, he would have. He would have told Stealth to slink off and crawl back under his rock. But facts were facts, and if the army had already taken notice of Newton, Mother needed more than just Wolf at her back. He hadn't let pride get in the way of a job since he was young and green, and he wouldn't now. Wolf wasn't stupid, though, and he certainly wasn't going to blindly agree without knowing the stakes. He wouldn't protect her from one enemy by serving her up on a platter to another. "What's your price?"

It was a fair question. Still, Stealth winced. He'd tried to prove himself to Wolf in the past, and the man always jumped to the wrong conclusions. While Stealth wanted most people to do just that, while he took care to groom that very image in the eyes of most, he really didn't like the fact that he sold that picture so well to Wolf. He wanted to tell Wolf the truth, that he'd stay with no strings attached and do what he could. Wolf wouldn't believe that. Stealth had been so good at his job that anyone who knew him before wouldn't believe he could do anything for free.

"I need somewhere to plant my ass for the winter."

"Winter's months away."

"It'll be on us in a blink, and you know it. Figure my quarantine in, and it's what? Half through August before I can actually be part of the town. That's not a lot of time to find a lady and start shacking up before the snow flies."

Find a lady. The words rolled in Wolf's stomach. "Don't be getting any ideas in that direction," he warned carefully, nodding his head in Mother's direction.

A smile spread under the scarf and Stealth's eyes twinkled with glee. "Aw big dog, don't tell me you've laid claim to..."

"No," Wolf said firmly. "And neither will you."

Interesting indeed. "Well, now," Stealth said, stretching his legs out and crossing his arms over his chest. "The winter's long and lonely. Never know what the future holds."

"And I'm never five steps from her, so don't even think about it."

Stealth knew a legitimate threat when he heard it. There were very few people that could issue one against him and still live. He'd poked the Wolf long enough. He wouldn't make any promises one way or the other, and it if came down to a battle between the two of them, so be it. For now, he needed to calm the beast. "I get a place to live and meals."

Wolf's eyes narrowed. Stealth changed the subject entirely too quickly for his liking. He knew right then it would be an issue that would come back up. Wolf silently cursed life for making Stealth's presence necessary. But not liking something didn't make it untrue and he took a deep breath to try and accept facts. "What else? You never work so cheap."

Smart man. The glint in Stealth's eye twinkled brighter. "No questions asked."

"Can't do it."

"You have before," Stealth reminded Wolf quietly.

Wolf swore and looked out across the valley. He had used Stealth's unique set of skills, and he hadn't asked. He didn't want to know, and frankly, if that's what it took to keep the job safe, he had no personal qualms about Stealth's methods. He didn't. But Mother would. "She'll ask."

Stealth shrugged. "Let her ask."

Wolf snorted. "Let her ask? She finds out how you get things done and you'll be out."

"Look, Wolf. You and I both know that if she keeps doing what she's doing, the target on her back will grow. She's stealing state secrets. She's erasing government documents. Shit, she even wiped a whole FBI database!"

Wolf closed his eyes and dropped his head forward. "Oh fuck." So that's what she was doing with Striker late at night.

Stealth laughed. "You didn't know? Jesus, old man. You're slipping."

Wolf ran a hand down his face. "Okay, so what. So what if she's mucking around in all that shit? No one's left who should care."

Stealth snorted. "She's getting to stuff before they do. Of course they care. She's stripping their upper hand. You know what it like on the bases these days? Most of the people left were on Red Detail."

Wolf nodded gravely. He had personally been in the room with the handful of politicians that were left to issue the horrible, last ditch order to try and stop the spread of Pandora. Thousands of soldiers were dispatched to the towns the government considered to be on the front lines of the pandemic with one goal: stop the spread. Man, woman, child, elderly, infirm...it didn't matter. Every citizen was killed. Some units chose to shoot, going door to door in a sweeping fury. Some chose to gas the area, thinking it a more humane method. A few towns were bombed sky high. The hope was to create a biological barrier, giving the virus nothing new to infect and stopping it in its tracks. But Pandora was already wild. There was no stopping it, and the only thing Red Detail did was to create thousands of men who would spend the rest of their lives with innocent blood on their hands, thousands of men who had to live with the memories of shooting their friends, neighbors, children. It never seemed right to Wolf that those men got the benefits of gas masks and biological warfare protocol. In his opinion, the world would have been much better off if they died with the rest.

Stealth's words got more heated as he spoke, raw and honest with none of the usual bravado, and that spoke volumes. "It hasn't even been a year yet and society's shit. Absolute shit. Their minds got twisted, Wolf. You look in their eyes and they can't get past killing their brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers. They're stuck. You've seen it. PTSD, only now, those are the people in _charge_. And not only are they in charge, they're strong-arming people to join them. They're lying. They're tricking the poor shits who didn't have the good sense to die with the rest into joining and being perpetual victims.

"So you've got the bases, where life is absolute hell. And then you've got the wanderers, the tenties. No more than scavengers trying to scrape by day to day. You think life's a picnic there? Huh? In the cities the mob families are already taking over. New York's a war zone that even I won't dare to enter!" He pointed across the fire. "And then you've got her, and about a handful like her across the whole country. Maybe five, six, scraping out a living, not for themselves, but for the others. You know, doing what people _should_ fucking do. It's staggering how few are doing it. And she's totally clueless. She's got no idea what she started and what she's in for. Of course she's a target. She's doing what they all can't."

It was perhaps the longest Stealth had allowed himself to shoot straight with someone since he was an adult. He preferred to defer, evade, joke and jest and keep people guessing, and the speech left him drained. "I'm offering you help, Wolf, plain and simple. I'm not asking for anything but the basics of survival. Maybe I'm getting soft, but I want this to win. I want people like her to win, okay? I can't..." Stealth shook his head and swore, trying to get the rare bubble of emotion inside to settle. "I've seen some shit, right? And I can't get the image of the last base I was at out of my mind. You think they don't know they're going to lose in the end?"

Wolf knew it was probably the only truly honest thing he'd ever heard come out of Stealth's mouth. He knew the man was telling the truth. Wolf knew for himself that there was something special about Mother the first time he saw her, and he knew it would make her a target. He didn't know she was playing with the files she shouldn't even know existed, and he made a mental note to chew not only her out for it, but have a man-to-man with Striker as well. But what was done was done, and the enemy already knew. It put a new sense of urgency in his plan for Newton and Mother's safety. "Fine," Wolf said eventually. "I'll allow it. But it's not my call. And if you stick around, you're working for me."

Stealth laughed and slapped the man on the back. "Good one," he said, rising to cross to the fire. "I got the nod from your lap dog," he said to Mother, keeping the fire between them. "Part one of the interview is over. Now I'm told it's your turn." He took off his scarf and breathed in, then choked on the smoke.

"Why are you taking the scarf off?" Mother asked, used to the smoke and sickly sweet smell by then.

Stealth motioned to the fire. "You think my germs can get to you through that?" He watched Mother tip her head and consider as she poked at the coals. "Besides, it's hot as fuck." He took his coat off and tossed it behind him. "Don't get close, puppy," he said to Wolf.

Wolf sighed heavily. This would be fun. Yeah. Big, big fun. He rubbed his eyes and took out a pack of cigarettes and sat listening as Mother began to grill Stealth.

"Where are you from?"

"Most recently? Out west."

"Are there still outbreaks?"

"Yes."

Mother swore. "How many lived?"

How the hell should he know? "Not many."

"What's quarantine protocol?"

Stealth grinned at her from across the flames. "You like to hop subjects, don't you?"

Mother leaned on the poker and assessed the question. "Do I?" she asked Wolf.

"Yup," Wolf called over his shoulder.

"Huh." She never thought of it. She just asked what she thought of. "Well what else is there to know? People are still getting sick, lots of people died, not many people are left. What more is there to ask?"

Stealth's smile flashed again. "I guess not much."

Mother nodded. "Exactly. Now, what's quarantine protocol?"

"It's kind of a standard when populations mix. Not in modern times, but in times of plagues. And it's always been sort of a contingency plan, worst case scenario," Stealth explained.

Mother snorted. "I guess this qualifies."

That was an understatement. "Yes ma'am, I guess it does."

Mother thought about it for a second. "I don't see how keeping people apart will do anything to temper the germ pool."

She was a smart one, that was for sure. "It won't. But six weeks is about the longest it takes most viruses to show signs and symptoms. It's more of an observation period. Either someone will get sick, and you'll know to keep them away until the symptoms are gone, or they'll be fit as a fiddle and ready to mingle."

"Unless they are immune carriers." Mother noted the look of surprise on the man's face. "Don't look so shocked. I've been the town doctor for months. I've never considered a quarantine period for people coming, but I do understand the basics of spreading germs. You really think a full six weeks is necessary?"

Stealth shrugged. "Just telling you standard protocol. Your town, your call."

"Hm." Mother would have to give it thought. It made sense, and was yet another thing she hadn't considered. Every day it seemed that particular list grew. If she let herself think of all her inadequacies, she'd get a complex. She made a note to discuss quarantines with the group at the next meeting, placed it in a box in her mind, and shut the lid. "So tell me what brings a spy to my town."

She jumped subjects again and it tickled Stealth. "I heard Newton was a happening place and decided to come check it out."

"Happening, eh?"

"Very."

"And what, exactly, are you planning to do in my 'happening' town?"

"Oh, little of this, little of that. Help your dog herd sheep."

"I do not herd sheep," said Wolf, flicking his cigarette into the dark and quickly lighting another.

"I do the herding," Mother clarified. "He does the glaring."

Stealth liked her. He'd already half made up his mind to after observing her all week, but now he was sure. "What did you bury?" he asked out of the blue.

Mother frowned. "What?"

"Yesterday, at the funeral. I see you burn bodies. Good call, by the way. Most places still bury."

Mother's frown deepened. "You were watching?"

Stealth didn't even have the good grace to look embarrassed. "Sure was. So what was it?"

Mother didn't like the fact that she was spied on. She didn't like the fact that someone had sneaked in and silently watched. It chilled her to know that they were so vulnerable and she shivered in spite of the heat.

Stealth watched her face. She was uncomfortable, and he didn't miss the shiver. Good. At least Wolf had trained her enough to understand what it meant that he could sneak into town. She was visibly shaken, and that was a very good start. He'd needle a little further for now to hammer home his point, then back off. "Yeah, I was here all week. I like to scope a place out before I introduce myself." Her wide eyes caught his in the light and he saw fear and anger. "So what was it?"

Mother considered not telling him. She considered ordering him out of her town. She considered yelling and screaming. She considered all of these things in the span of about two seconds before she accepted not only their futility, but their sheer stupidity. While she didn't know the extent of Wolf's qualifications, she knew enough to understand that if he didn't notice Stealth prowling around, then Stealth was not only good at being a spy, but _really_ good. And she knew if she tossed him out, he'd just prowl around again. It was clearly very easy for him to do, and nothing about the man said he'd give up with just a few angry words from her.

"Oh, come now, Stealth," Mother finally replied. "How good of a spy are you if you don't even know who the funeral was for?"

An excitement swelled in Stealth's chest. He was starting to understand why people listened to Mother. "I thought it would be rude to pry into someone's grief," he sparred back.

Mother's eyes twinkled. "I didn't know spies had such ethics."

Stealth put a hand on his chest, loving the back and forth. This is what he needed, this is what he missed. He needed to have someone to talk to, to play with. "You wound me, Ma. Spies have hearts."

God Stealth was a handsome man. The fire highlighted the sharp angles of his face, his strong jaw, the dark, animated eyes. Mother knew he'd be a distraction in town. The ladies would all fall over themselves for a piece of him. She frowned slightly, considering. Maybe it would be a good thing. Maybe they'd have some babies to look forward to. Blaze was considered the young gun in town, and though he was certainly attractive, his personality left him lonely. This new spy was handsome and proving to be charming.

Stealth wondered what Mother was thinking. He could see the gears turning, but had no idea why. It didn't happen often, but in that moment, he was thoroughly stumped. "So what was it?" he asked again, not liking the feeling of uncertainty about anything.

"A leg," Mother said, his question bringing her back to the moment.

Stealth opened his mouth then closed it again. He frowned and tilted his head, a bemused smile on his face. "Did you just say you held a funeral for a leg?"

Mother looked up and flashed him a wide grin. "Yep, sure did. My friend Cora's leg. Our first casualty. It bravely gave itself in a farming accident and as soon as Cora was well, we decided to give it a hero's send off."

Not many things in life surprised Stealth. It was a refreshing sensation. He threw his head back and laughed. "In a million years, I never would have guessed a leg."

Mother pointed the fire poker at him. "See? I knew you weren't a very good spy. Didn't even notice Cora's stump, did you?"

He had, he just never put it together. A funeral for a leg? It was just so absurd. And yet, the townspeople had been into it. They all attended, they all laughed, they all followed her. He wondered who she was in the life before. He put his hands up to concede. "Fine, I'm a terrible spy. I should give up my spy glasses and all the fun gadgets and just be an accountant."

Mother snorted. "Good. I need someone to track inventory."

"I was joking."

"So was I. I'd never let you around my inventory. Spies have notoriously sticky fingers."

"You're thinking of pirates, not spies."

Mother waved a hand. "Same thing until I trust you." Her smile faded and she turned serious. "If Wolf approves, and since you're still standing here and not dead on the ground I'll take that he does, then he knows you'll have value here. I take his opinion to heart. I'll let you stay. There's an empty neighborhood just cleaned out," she motioned to the burning bodies. "I'll get a crew over there to scrub out a house for you and stock it with supplies."

"I can take care of my own supplies," he assured her.

"You're part of my town, you'll share in the store. That's how we work."

Stealth didn't argue further. It seemed very important to Mother.

"There's phone service still in most the town. If you need something, I'll give you the number to call up to the house. I think your idea of six weeks might be a little excessive, but then again, I only play a doctor on tv. What do I know?" Stealth smiled at the reference. "I'm taking a huge risk here, Mr. Spy. Don't make me regret it."

"I won't," he promised.

She nodded firmly. "Good. Then welcome to Newton!"

They spent the rest of the burn talking, Stealth sharing what information he knew about the state of the nation and Mother asking dozens of questions, some even he couldn't answer. By the time the fire had burned down and the bodies were little more than glowing embers, Mother felt like she had a better idea of Stealth, and he gained a deeper respect for her. Mother promised the house would be ready by mid morning, and reiterated her warning.

"I mean it. Screw me over and I'll let Wolf have at you."

Once again, Stealth promised he'd behave. After she an Wolf left, Stealth sat for long hours until well after dawn, staring in the fire and hoping that was true. For the first time in a really long time, he felt like he had a purpose, a goal, a place. And he'd do his level best to keep it.

Chapter 14

Striker was hiding. Mother warned him that Wolf was on the war path and he ducked out early and stayed away all day. Mother couldn't blame him. Wolf was livid when he discovered the things she'd been having Striker do.

"You erased Social Security records?"

"So what?" she had asked. "It's not like we're going to get pay-outs anymore."

"Birth records? Death certificates and census bureau information..." Wolf had sputtered and raged. "What the hell were you thinking?" He asked it over and over through the day, a constant litany of interrogation.

Mother sat and drank her coffee, trying to ignore Wolf's pacing. It was late at night and Striker still hadn't returned. "Don't blame him," she said again.

"This is exactly why we need to stoop low enough to have Stealth here," he spat at her. "Because you don't fucking think."

That wasn't fair and she tried to reign in her anger. "I _am_ thinking," she said slowly and deliberately. "I am thinking ahead, just like you have told me to over and over for the past six months. I am looking for potential threats and nipping them in the bud."

Wolf scoffed. "Yeah, some geriatric pension plan is really a threat. A sharp-witted accountant could really dig into us good with that knowledge!"

Mother had enough. She had enough of his prying and anger at something that was no one's business but her own. "It's my business, so leave it be."

Wolf sighed and rubbed his temples. He was trying hard not to throttle her. "It's not your business. It stopped being your business as soon as the army caught on. Now it's everyone's business. Now it's everyones' asses on the line."

Mother felt a stab of guilt. She honestly hadn't thought her actions would be noticed. "I know that now," she admitted once again. "And it won't happen again. Now I know it's a problem, I won't do it anymore." She didn't need to, anyway. The old version of herself was gone. And after tomorrow, after she made her way to her old home and took care of a few loose ends, there would be nothing left of that person.

Wolf sat heavily in a chair. "I know you won't do it again," he said. "But you also have to stop taking down information."

"I'm not the one taking it down," she insisted.

"We'll see."

Wolf didn't believe her, and the realization was like a slap in the face. "Yes, I'm having Striker download everything we can think of. But I'm not keeping it. I'm sharing it freely with anyone who asks. We're making an archive, not erasing history. We're giving all that information a safe home before the internet stops for good. God, Wolf. I'm telling everyone I can to learn as much as possible. Why in the hell would I destroy anything that will help, huh?"

Wolf wanted to believe Mother. Hell, he did on one level. He needed to talk to Striker. As far as Mother knew, everything was simply copied. Wolf needed to get his hands on the little weasel and see just how much he was erasing without her knowledge. He opened his mouth to try and repair some of the damage when he heard the back door open and a board on the floor squeak. He gave Mother a pointed look when she went to stand, and she sat back in her chair.

"Don't kill him," Mother said, resigned. "He was just doing what I told him to."

He'd see about that. Wolf got up and moved silently through the den and up the stairs toward Striker's room. He reached the top just in time to hear the click of the door knob, and smiled to himself. This would be fun. He crept to the door and listened. When he heard the bed squeak, he threw the door open and burst in, shouting, "What in the fucking hell were you thinking, you snot nosed little shit?"

Striker jumped out of bed and could feel the blood drain from his face. "I didn't...I was just following orders! Please don't kill me!"

Wolf almost laughed. The image of the gangly kid about to piss his pants with fear almost took away the anger. Almost. He snapped his fingers and pointed to the bed, and Striker dropped like a stone. Wolf closed the door behind him and slowly and deliberately pulled the chair out from behind a desk heaped with electronics. He sat and stared at Striker until he was sure the boy was about to cry, then said simply, "Talk."

"I'm sorry. She told me...she didn't want people knowing who she was, like before. So she asked if I could erase her and, like, yeah. Come on. That's basic."

"And you thought it would be fine to hack into governmental files."

Striker snorted. "What government? The feds are dead, man. Just like the rest. They're gone. What the hell are they gonna know? Oh hell, Wolf. You gotta believe me. I didn't think it would be a problem."

"You didn't think, that's for damn sure! You should have come to me."

"I don't work for you." Striker instantly regretted the words. His eyes went wide and he was sure that would push Wolf over the edge. But facts were facts. Mother specifically went out of her way to assure him he worked for her and only her.

Wolf liked the kid's devotion. Any questions he may have had concerning Striker's loyalty were put to rest right there. The only color on the kid's face was the red from his latest round of acne, and his eyes looked sick with terror. "You do work for her," he conceded. "But I run security. And what you did puts this whole town in jeopardy. Do you understand that?"

Striker nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Because the plain truth is that there are always people watching. Always."

Striker swallowed hard. "I...I get it."

Wolf took a calming breath. "I understand you erased some birth records pertaining to Mother."

Striker nodded. "And a few other things. But only as far as her identification purposes go," he added quickly. "I swear."

Wolf believed that part. "Fine. Now tell me why you are erasing top secret military files." He watched Striker's face carefully. There was a quick play of guilt, before the boy stupidly tried lying.

"I didn't!"

Striker's voice broke. He began to sweat. His face had gone from pale to a blotchy blush. Wolf was positive the kid was lying. "Interesting. Because I've been contacted by a top level securities agent who would be more than happy to take you to the nearest army base and install you..."

"Okay!" Striker yelled, not needing to hear any more. He swallowed the terror and took a deep breath. "Okay, I erased a few things..."

"What." It wasn't a question, it was a demand.

Striker ran a hand over his face. "Just some stuff that'll help us."

"Tell me what you erased," Wolf said deliberately.

"Cache maps." Wolf quirked an eyebrow. "Uh, weapons, emergency supplies, bunkers," Striker stammered in explanation.

Wolf breathed in slowly. Was the kid saying what he thought he was saying? "Military cache maps?"

Striker nodded. "Yeah. See, there are these maps that show where all the emergency stuff is."

"I'm aware," Wolf said dryly. "What I want to know is how you think erasing them from the internet will help Newton in any way."

"I didn't just erase them from the internet," Striker said with condescension in his voice. "What do you think I am, some hack newb? I copied them for us, then infected the main servers to display false information. Yeah, the army has to have physical maps printed somewhere. But I guarantee the bases don't have hard copies, and they'll have to go directly to where they're stored to physically get them. And since I corrupted the right things, and since the internet's already turning into hamburger on its own without my help, I bet most of the people in charge have no idea where those hard copies are stored. They'll go off chasing the X on the digital map and find nothing there. But we've got them. We can go get the supplies they stashed away for themselves."

There was no denying it was brilliant. Wolf hadn't thought it was possible, but with so much of the world stored digitally, it made sense that one kid on one computer in a tiny little area of the country could literally take the rug right out from under the entire army. They'd have to act quickly, but what a boon for Newton. "I can't look past the heat you're bringing down. I can't let that go, and I think you know that."

Striker swallowed and nodded. He knew at the time Wolf wouldn't like what he was doing, but he had Mother's permission. He decided not to mention that part to Wolf and take his lumps like a man. "Fine. What's my sentence?"

Wolf had every intention of kicking the kid out of town if he could, but the main house at the very least. He would have if the kid had just randomly screwed around in top secret files for the hell of it. But he didn't. It was clear Striker put a lot of thought into his actions, even if he couldn't see the glaring danger. Striker's assets would prove valuable if he could be contained. "Starting tomorrow you are to report to me first thing in the morning for some training."

"Training?" Striker squeaked.

"Yes. Clearly you have a mind for strategy. I like that. But you need to have a look at the bigger picture. You need to really understand what's on the line. You'll shadow me for one week, and then you and I will sit down and assemble a more professional lab."

Striker couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You're...I can stay?"

Wolf didn't want the kid for an enemy. He'd stay, but only on Wolf's terms. "This time. You follow, you listen, you keep your mouth shut and you learn. You don't see the dangers? I can teach you to see them. And you will learn and follow, or else you will be gone. I'm not talking about kicking you out with a case of food and a comfy tent, like Fred. I'm talking about you being gone." Wolf dragged a finger across his throat. "I refuse to have you as her enemy. Are we clear?"

Striker swallowed hard. What choice did he have? "Yes, sir."

"I'll start at six."

"In the morning?" At Wolf's nod, Striker groaned. "But it's already midnight!"

"Six," Wolf repeated firmly before walking out without another word. He made his way back to the kitchen.

"I don't see blood on you," Mother said, eying him warily.

"I didn't kill him, but for the record, if I did, I wouldn't be covered in blood. I'm better than that." He sat down and tented his hands on the table in front of him. "Starting tomorrow, the both of you are going to learn more about security."

Mother sighed. "But tomorrow I've got to..."

"No," he said firmly. "You always give me an excuse, and I'm not taking it anymore."

Mother frowned. "It's my town. And I can't help it if there's always something to do."

"It can wait."

Mother scoffed. "You're kidding, right?" Mother ticked off the list of things on her docket for the next day. "We're still not done stringing the fence for the new cows down on Mockingbird, there's a problem with the tomatoes that needs attention, the clean crew needs new hazmat gear so we'll have to go on another raid, the fishing group needs more salt..."

"And they can all take care of it themselves for a few days."

"Not to mention the fact that I've got about a hundred people showing up here by October," she continued, talking over him. "And now I've got to make sure double the amount of houses are clear so that I can quarantine..."

"Priorities," Wolf said simply. "It is time to make this a priority."

Mother sighed. "I carry a gun, don't I?"

"Unloaded and you still don't know how to shoot it."

"You've attacked me easily a dozen times," she pointed out.

"And in all but one I could have killed you, and even that one time you got out of it quickly was shit luck and you know it." Mother opened her mouth, but closed it again when Wolf raised an eyebrow. "I don't know why you're so resistant. You're right. You've got a hundred people coming soon, and odds are good there's at least one whacakdoo in the bunch. The army hates you. And I'll overlook my own embarrassment and point out that we had a ruthless killer right in the thick of the town for a whole week without knowing."

"Ruthless killer, huh? I think that's being harsh."

"No, it's not." His seriousness made Mother squirm. "Fortunately for us he's on our side, and the only reason I'm letting him or the geek stay here is to _keep_ them on our side." Wolf ran a hand through his hair. "I know you don't like the thought that people out there want to hurt you." His words hit home. He could tell by her deep blush. "But that's just fact. You yourself are always saying that just because you don't like something doesn't make it untrue." He tapped the table with his finger for emphasis. "If you keep inviting trouble, that's exactly what you'll get."

Mother rolled her eyes. "So I should just stop? Tell people to go away?"

"No. That's what I'm here for. I promised to protect you and if you want to keep this going, that's exactly what I'll do. But you have to stop making me do it all by myself."

Wolf had a point, though Mother hated to admit it. The thought that anyone wanted to hurt her seemed absurd. She was helping people. Surely anyone could see that. Surely Wolf was blowing things out of proportion. And yet, Stealth got in. He waltzed right in, and while she was positive Wolf was overstating Stealth's potential danger, she knew that he could have been dangerous. Wolf had a point, as uncomfortable as the thought was. "Fine. You can teach me to shoot. I should know how to hunt, anyway."

Shoot? That was only the beginning. She needed to learn how to pull a blade and use it, become good at hand to hand combat, learn how to size up a situation and use anything in the environment as a weapon. She needed to learn how to spot trouble before it announced itself and how to head off danger before it began. Shooting was just the tip of the ice berg. "Good," he said, deciding to keep the rest to himself. "We'll start in the morning."

Mother's body ached days later when she stood in the shower, bruised and broken from Wolf's training. Once she gave him the go-ahead to teach her, he was merciless. He put her and Striker through a brutal regimen of training that only started at shooting, and swelled to include self defense, knife throwing, duck-and-cover exercises, and about a dozen other painful tips and tricks she was sure she'd never need. The worst was the sparring. Over and over he put her in headlocks, swept her legs out from underneath, ran at her so fast she didn't have time to react, and shot at her with paint balls. She went from pissed, to royally outraged, to terrified, and finally earlier that day, resigned.

"Now you're getting it," Wolf had told her that morning when instead of freaking out she simply accepted the fact that he was running at her and stepped to the side, too tired to try anything fancy, too sore for tricky maneuvers. "It's not about flash, it's just about getting out of the way. No fear. No panic. No emotion. I'm coming at you, you move. I put my arm around your neck, you hit the nearest reflex point. I go to pull a gun, your hand moves faster. It's not about anger or emotion, it's simply about action. Now, do it again."

And again and again and again until she literally dropped when Striker landed a blow on her chest with his foot. The boy had been terrified, and the memory of the look of sheer panic on his face made Mother chuckle in spite of the pain. She tipped her head up into the hot water and wondered idly if Wolf would try and launch an attack in her bathroom. She had locked the door, but doubted that would stop him. She sighed. She wouldn't put it past him. One of these days she'd be taking a shower and he'd replay the Psycho scene. _I hope he waits until I rinse out the shampoo at least_ , she thought. She let the water run cool and then stepped out.

After she toweled off and put on fresh clothes that did not have her blood on them, Mother stepped out and almost tripped over Wolf. He was dozing on the floor of the hall outside the bathroom. It was the first time she'd ever caught him off guard, and she seized her advantage. She slowly pulled her knife out of the sheath she never forgot to wear anymore, and dropped down, crouching over him. Wolf's eyes opened as soon as the cold blade touched his throat and he simply stared at her.

She was fresh and clean from her shower and smelled like the sporty soap she was using that month. Wolf could see a bruise on her neck, and he tamped down the instant rise of guilt. He was doing what he had to do. Besides, it wasn't like his body wasn't tired and broken, too. "That's one for you," he said eventually.

Mother grinned and put the knife back in the sheath. "Ha! One for me and five billion for you."

Wolf waited just until he was sure the blade was secured before he moved. In the blink of an eye he had her pinned under him, her wrists in his hands and her legs trapped under his. "Five billion and one," he said.

Mother sighed. "God dammit!" She wriggled, but could not break free. She took a deep breath and glared at him. "Fine. Five billion and one."

Wolf flashed a quick smile and jumped off, standing in one smooth motion and holding out his hand to help her up.

"No way I'm falling for that one again," she said, refusing his hand and standing on her own. She brushed off her pants and shirt. "I still got you," she muttered.

She had. Wolf let himself have a moment of weakness and she seized the opportunity. If she wanted to, she could have slit his throat. He couldn't let her know how proud he was of her. The very last thing he wanted was for Mother to think she passed a test, that she completed anything. There would be no completion until she either gave up the town, or died. He couldn't let her drop her guard. "Oh, yes," he said, affecting the condescending tone he knew pissed her off the most. "You sure did."

"I did!" Mother said, outraged.

"Yeah. And I totally didn't have about a dozen outs, either."

Mother snapped her mouth shut and stomped past him and up the stairs to the meeting. "I got you, whether you want to admit it or not."

They entered the kitchen and all banter stopped in front of the others. Wolf put on his mask of silence and hopped up on the counter to sit and listen and watch. Mother saw that people were already there. "Sorry my shower took so long. I'm walking a little slow today." She shot a glare at Wolf who stared back, impassive. Everyone knew she was in the middle of hard core training and felt bad for her and Striker.

"That's just fine. We can put this off another night if you want," offered Gus.

Mother shook her head. "No. I've put this off long enough." She sat and took the notebook Eve handed her. Striker was sitting in on the meeting, as he had the past couple nights, and Mother noticed her table was filling up fast. Cora, sick of looking at the little makeshift hospital room while she waited for the construction of her new bedroom to be complete, also sat at the table in her wheelchair. "We're going to need a bigger table soon," Mother said, flipping over the notebook.

"I can leave if you want," Cora offered.

Mother shook her head. "Nope. The more the merrier. I need all the input I can get for this one."

"Sounds important," Gus said, sipping his coffee. For him the best part of the nightly meetings was the coffee. The town was offered one cup in the community breakfast, but that was it for rations.

"It is. As we all know, there are nearly a hundred people coming."

"Ninety three," said Eve.

Mother glanced at her. Sometimes Eve was too efficient. "Yes. Thank you," Mother said drolly. Eve had the good grace to look embarrassed. "As I was saying, it occurred to me that these newcomers are, well, just that. New. They haven't been part of this from the beginning. They haven't grown and changed with us. They have no idea what to expect, and no clue how what we expect of them. I think it's time we make some basic laws for the town."

Gus let out a low whistle. "That's a tall order, ma'am."

Mother nodded. "Yes. I know. I know it'll go over like a fart in church, too. That's where you all come in. I've sketched out a rough idea, but I...I don't want to cross the line."

"You don't want to be a tyrant," Cora offered.

Mother gave a wry smile. "Let's not rule that out." Gus and Striker laughed. "All joking aside, yeah. I guess that's what I'm trying to say. I need to make some reasonable laws, but I don't want to take away rights."

"We've got laws," Gus said.

"And who's enforcing them? Have you seen any cops?" Mother shook her head. "I think our group would do well as is. But what about the new people? We don't know what they're coming from. Stealth seems to think that there's a new lawless attitude out there, and maybe he's right. We've got to be prepared. And while common decency and a sense of moral obligation should be enough, history has taught us that's not the case. We need laws, and we need consequences for breaking those laws."

It was true. No one at the table could disagree. "No killing," said Cora.

"That's a no brainer," Eve said.

"Write it down," Mother said. Eve wrote. "No stealing, too. Those are the biggies. What else?"

"No rape," Wolf surprised them all by saying.

"No rape," Eve confirmed with a nod of her head.

"Okay, so those are the easy ones. Now, we get into the hard stuff."

After a long couple hours of debate, basic laws for Newton were established. Aside from the basic common sense laws, there were laws of necessity that governed food, weapons, and general supplies. While everyone agreed official rules were needed, their sense of freedom and longing for a life that didn't need such restrictions made some of the laws a hard sell. Mother saw their point, but she also knew what she thought was the best for the town.

"Look, I'd love to let everyone raid and hoard all they want. But that's not a town. Cora can't raid. She can't hoard."

"What you're talking about is communism," Gus said with slow deliberation.

"I know," Mother admitted. "But right now, there isn't a surplus. If we peck and scratch and ignore the neighbors that need help, then what's the point of a having a town in the first place?" Mother shook her head. She knew it would be tough to get the town to feel comfortable having these concepts turn into basic law, but she hadn't thought her core group would fight it so hard. "I'm not saying this is permanent. In fact, I hope to hell it's not. My job is to make a place where people can heal, learn, and grow and wait for the country to decide it's rebuilding again. I will gladly follow the laws of the land when we have a land once more. I can't wait for that day! But we're not there yet, not even close. In the mean time, I'm just saying that I don't see any other way. Can you?"

Mother looked at each person in turn, giving them the opportunity to speak up with a brilliant plan. When no one spoke, she let their silence speak volumes. "We need to work together. We need to share supplies. We need to keep helping each other through, and we can't do that if there's a free-for-all attitude."

"What if people won't stand for it?"

"Then they will get a case of food, a tent, and I'll wish them well," Mother said firmly.

Gus sighed heavily. "It just doesn't feel right. I fought in the military against this kind of government."

"But it's not a government," Mother insisted. "It's a stop gap. It's a temporary situation that I can't see how to avoid. I just don't have the resources for a full police force. I don't have the resources to make up for the lack if someone decides to keep what they raid. America is on hold, and until it's back, this is how it has to be here." Mother felt defensive tears rise and was instantly pissed at herself for getting emotional. "God dammit, Gus! Don't you think I know how this is going to go over? Don't you think I've been racking my brain for months to think of a different way? If I let people take and keep and hoard and load up on weapons, then I can't protect anyone. I can't help anyone. I'm not a fucking government, I'm just a woman who's opened her home to people who need it. I have to make these laws, Gus. I _have_ to. And if someone doesn't like it, then they can leave."

After a long moment of silence Gus let out a long breath. "Christ. If you've already got it decided, what do you need us here for?"

"To tell me the line so I won't be caught off guard when I cross it."

They made their laws, and sketched out a rough guideline for punishments. Towards the end of the meeting, Gus, who had been mostly silent after her outburst, finally piped up. "I see the need, you know. It's not like I don't. Hell even some of our own people are getting antsy and starting to do stupid shit. But you have to make them feel like you're not taking anything away."

"How?"

"A town council," Cora said.

Eve chewed the end of her pen for a second, then nodded. "That's a good idea."

"I've already got all of you," Mother said.

Cora shook her head. "No, people that get elected. Instead of us. That way people can feel like they have a say."

Mother laughed. "We don't have enough people for an election!"

Cora shrugged. "It only takes a few."

The idea had its merits. "But I value your opinions. Good god, what if they elect Blaze?"

Eve snorted. "Not likely."

"If they do, then they do," Cora said, lifting her shoulder. "So what? No one says you have to follow their suggestions."

Mother looked to Gus. If he was sold on the idea, the rest of the town would follow. "Gus?"

"If you don't listen, then what's the point?"

"The point is that people will still have their say. They'll do what we do," Cora pointed out.

"I think it's a good idea," said Striker.

"You think everything is a good idea," said Eve.

"And you just want to disagree with everyone."

"Not everyone," Eve said. "Only idiots."

"Kids," Mother warned absently, studying Gus and waiting for his response. _Come on, Gus. I've given on so much. Just bend a little._

"Would you actually consider the suggestions a council puts before you?" Gus asked, stroking his Santa beard.

"I always do," Mother said firmly. "I've listened every step of the way and I'll keep listening."

Gus knew she did. He knew she took too much to heart at times, too. He wasn't sure himself which was worse. "Well, then, I think that might work. I'll feel it out, hint around. You'll have some people dead set against."

"Then let them know they are welcome to leave with my warm wishes for a happy future. I'm not forcing anything on anyone, here, guys," she said to the whole group. "I said from the beginning, I won't make people stay who don't want to, and I won't. I never, ever will. Anyone is free to leave at any time, all of you included. If people don't like this," she said, motioning to the list of laws that now sat in the middle of the table, "then I'll understand. I'll get it. And I won't hold a grudge. While you're feeling the town out and hinting at what's to come, take a minute to make that clear, too."

The meeting broke up and Mother fell heavily into bed. One weight was off her shoulders, while another took its place. She had been worried about laws and rules for awhile now. There had been a few minor scuffles, one or two incidents of hoarding supplies. Wolf had been hammering home the need for some sort of weapons policy, especially with hunting season approaching. They didn't know how many deer were left, but already they had seen prints around the ripening berry bushes. It felt good to make the decision and take the plunge and make some laws.

And yet, that weight was quickly replaced by the knowledge that people would be resistant. Communism. Gus wasn't the first to throw out the word, and he wouldn't be the last, especially with the way things were heading. But damned if she could see another way. It was her town, as Wolf drilled in her head time and time again. It was her town, her call. She wasn't after making a new nation. That was for someone else. The army, maybe. Or some place larger, some city that had enough people to spare. She didn't have that luxury. She just wanted to make sure that the people who lived in her town had food, shelter, and the opportunity for life. That's all. Let someone else decide what kind of nation they'd have when they were finally ready. She wouldn't stop them, wouldn't get in their way. But for now, she had to think of the people in her care. If that was communism, she'd just have to accept it.

The next morning before the communal breakfast, Mother sat and drank her coffee, looking over the list. Gus said he'd feel people out and report back to her, and that didn't really sit right. It was her town, her call. She got up and rummaged around until she found some clean blank paper and a marker. She carefully listed off the laws in bold, mostly neat handwriting.

Laws of Newton

1. No killing.

2. No stealing.

3. No rape.

4. Every home will be issued one long gun to share. Any other firearms will be turned over to the Newton Armory immediately.

5. Any newly discovered food supplies will be turned over to the Community Store immediately to be rationed equally among all citizens.

6. Unauthorized consumption of alcohol or medical drugs, or any use of recreational drugs is forbidden. All found alcohol, drugs, or medicines will be turned over to the Community Store.

7. Scavenged clothing, jewelry, furnishings, and other non-essential items may be retained by the finder and traded freely with other citizens.

Anyone suspected of violating these laws will be brought before a jury. If found guilty, the offender will be punished in accordance with recommendations of the Newton Town Council.

Mother stared at the list. Though she agreed to feel things out first, in the light of day she felt this was the right decision. _In for a penny, in for a pound_ , she thought. She'd post it on the barn door after an announcement and it would be done. Time to make up her mind and move on to the next problem, no matter how scary that thought was.

Mother looked up at the clock. It was a little after six, and there was still no sign of Wolf. She smiled at the memory of pinning him the night before. He could say whatever he wanted, but she had him dead to rights. Once, to his hundreds, maybe thousands. What was it? _Oh, yes_ , she thought, sipping her coffee. _Five billion and one times_. A win was a win nonetheless, and it had taken her six months to score on him. Maybe she was learning after all.

Mother sighed at that thought. Of course she was learning. She was learning far more than she ever thought she'd need to know, doubled. And still the list of things she still had left to learn was staggering. Every time she checked one off, someone would approach her with a new problem and five more things would go on the list. She wondered if other people in charge had the same challenges. Did the president torture himself late at night panicking about all he didn't know?

Well, that was a little silly, wasn't it? Presidents had tons of people around them. They didn't have to know everything, just act like they did. It had been a couple hundred years since a president had to know how to plow a field, or stitch up a wound, or settle fights between neighbors. Maybe that last one, she had to concede, only the neighbors were countries and they probably never fought over whose tomatoes were whose when the beds spread out and overgrew their marked plots.

She glanced at the clock again, then to the stairs. Not only was there no Wolf in the kitchen, but no one at all was up in her house yet at all. It looked like she had a whole house full of lazies that morning. She couldn't remember the last time she was able to sit somewhere all by herself and not be taking either a shit or a shower. The clock ticked, the refrigerator hummed, and she sipped her coffee in the early morning sun not really knowing what to do with herself. She got up and checked the fridge, seeing if Eve had prepared anything ahead for breakfast. They were quickly running out of oatmeal, and she had put that or some other hot grain cereal on the list of things for people to look for on raids. Eve had taken to making a hodgepodge of the stuff the night before, then frying the cooled lumps to give people more fat and calories with less oatmeal. Mother saw the trays of cooled oatmeal and took them out. It had been months since she cooked, and the mundane task actually felt good.

Instead of just scooping it into blobs and frying them, Mother cut the cooled meal in rectangles, then dusted them with some powdered cinnamon. She pressed the squares into cracker crumbs and hummed to herself as she heated oil in four pans on one stove, while laying out draining racks on the other new stove that Mack had installed. She had to admit, it was much easier to make a meal for almost fifty people with the extra space. While the first batches bubbled in the hot oil, Mother got out the large cans of fruit cocktail they had found in a school cafeteria a few weeks back and began to open them.

By the time Wolf finally made his way upstairs, his back killing him from the training, the kitchen smelled great, Mother was humming and tapping her spatula to the beat that played through her head, and it was nearly seven o'clock. Wolf stopped in the doorway and watched Mother, caught by her playfulness at such a simple task. She actually made cooking look fun. He shook his head and sighed. "Hey," he said.

Mother finished her ditty with a flourish, holding the note and whirling her spatula in the air, not caring that it splattered little droplets of oil around the kitchen. "Coffee's hot. We're out of powdered creamer."

Wolf nodded and poured a cup. He winced at the awful brew. Mother might be able to cook, but he had yet to taste a decent cup of coffee when she was making it. "Where's Eve?" he asked, his grumpy mood returning with the bitter taste in his mouth.

Mother smiled at him. "It's awful, I know. There's still brown sugar if you want to take the edge off."

Wolf sat at the table and sipped his terrible coffee. He'd be damned if he couldn't make it through a simple cup of coffee like a man. "You're in a good mood."

Mother stopped and tilted her head, like she was actually considering it. "I guess I am." She turned back to cooking and kept the humming down. Wolf did not seem to be in a mood for humming, no matter how terrific she was at the chorus.

Wolf looked at the sheet of paper on the table. He grabbed it and read over the laws. "You're doing it today?"

"Yep."

"You don't want to wait and get opinions?"

"Nope."

Wolf liked her sure tone of voice and hoped it wasn't just bravado. "What about this council idea?"

Mother scooped out some golden brown oatmeal cakes, then added fresh ones to the pan. "I want Gus. Eve is not on the council, but she is my...assistant? Shit. That sounds lame, doesn't it? Secretary?"

"Resident know-it-all?" Wolf suggested.

"Har har," she said, rolling her eyes at him. "Whatever she is, she's outside the council and I won't hold meetings without her. And maybe Gus could be my appointed council leader. I was thinking for a town this size, maybe three council members the others elect."

"Maybe?"

Mother pressed her lips together. "No, definitely. Three outside of Gus. That seems more than fair, and should still be enough when the others move in. Of course, I suppose they'll want some of their people."

Wolf noticed that Mother wasn't asking him, she was telling, and he smiled into his cup. Atta girl. He wondered if she even realized she was doing it. She probably couldn't see the changes in herself. She was overcoming her insecurities and truly beginning to rise to the challenge. He hoped some of it was because of him. It didn't matter, not really. But still, something in him really wanted to believe he helped her get there.

Eve came running in, twisting her static snarled hair into a bun. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to sleep so late."

"It's no biggie," Mother assured her.

"I'll start...breakfast." Her words trailed off as she looked at the bowls of fruit cocktail that lined the counter waiting to be picked up by the townspeople who helped serve the meals, and the trays of yummy smelling fried squares. "Well. I guess breakfast is taken care of."

"You could make a fresh pot of coffee," Wolf said hopefully.

Eve glanced at the coffee pot. "It's almost full."

Wolf glared into his cup and stewed.

Mother pointed her spatula towards the oatmeal cakes. "Go ahead and try one." When Eve eyed the fried cakes suspiciously, Mother sighed. "Oh, for heaven's sake. I have been known to cook, you know. Just because I don't doesn't mean I can't."

Eve took one and tried it. "Wow. It's not bad."

Mother made a little bow and offered one to Wolf. In a perfect world, Wolf wouldn't ever have to eat anything to do with oatmeal again. Since this world was far from perfect, and he'd be on the go all day, he took a cake and chewed it quickly, then washed it down with the horrid coffee. He ate the whole thing, and Mother knew that was as close to a compliment as she was going to get from him.

"It's seven thirty. Go on out and ring the bell and I'll bring Cora a plate." Mother fixed some cakes and fruit cocktail on a plate, grabbed a spoon, and headed to Cora's room. Mack had assured her that Cora's permanent room would be ready within the week, and she looked forward to the woman having a real place of her own. "Knock knock," she said, easing her foot into the cracked open door and swinging it slowly in case Cora was out of bed.

"Good morning," Cora said, sitting on her bed and rubbing her stump. "It's going to rain later. I'm sure of it."

The stump had healed to the point where it no longer needed bandaging, and Cora often let it stick out from her skirts to air. Mother had a hard time looking without being transported back to that horrendous night, but she did her best to simply try to avoid seeing it. She would never tell Cora it had to be covered. "Breakfast."

"I thought I smelled cinnamon. Eve's getting fancy."

"Eve's getting lazy," Mother corrected. "I made this." She nodded her head towards Cora's stump. "You need meds?"

Cora had long ago learned that it was foolish to try and will away the pain with sheer stubbornness. Still, she hated the heavy medications that took away the pain. A weather front was moving in, she was sure of it, and her wound had throbbed all night in warning. "If I do, I won't be stubborn."

It was the best Mother was going to get, and she let it drop. Cora was an adult, it was her call. "Well enjoy your breakfast in bed, madam," Mother said with a deep bow. Cora giggled, as Mother wanted her to. "I am off to bring some justice and order to this lawless town."

Cora quirked an eyebrow. "You're announcing the laws? Don't you want to get..."

"Nope," Mother said, cutting her off. "You won't talk me out of this. Rip off the band aid all at once, right? Right."

"Just watch yourself," Cora called, when Mother turned and left.

Mother waved a hand over her shoulder and then waited in the kitchen while the trays and bowls were brought out to the barn. She clipped a walkie on her belt, telling Wolf to shut up when he shot her a self satisfied, smug smile, then grabbed the paper off the table. She rummaged in a drawer of junk until she found a box of thumbtacks, stuck it in her coat pocket, and stood at the door, waiting for Wolf to be ready. She took a bracing breath and headed out.

"May I have your attention, please?" Mother called from the center of the barn. People stopped eating and looked her way. When everyone was quiet, she began the speech she only half planned. "As you all know, in just a few months our numbers will triple. We'll become an ever larger community, and that will open us up to potential trouble. We are accepting these strangers, just as I accepted all of you, and I have every faith that you will all open your arms and welcome them with respect, patience, and understanding." The crowd generally agreed.

"However, it would be short-sighted of us to continue the way we've been running and just expect people to know how we operate, how we function as a cohesive community, and what we need from them. And not just this first batch. Hopefully we'll grow, and as we do, we need to protect ourselves, our neighbors, and our future." She tried to gauge the mood of the crowd. People seemed curious, but so far with her. She took a deep breath.

"With all of this in mind, I have come up with a two stage plan. The first is to implement a set of standard laws for the town of Newton." People began to murmur. "And the second is to hold an election for Newton's first official Town Council." The murmurs turned to outright talking and Mother caught bits of speculation and worry in the conversations. She held her hand up and waited for the people to settle down. "Every town has laws, they just do. And I guarantee that there's nothing in the rule books that's any different from how we're living now."

"Then why do we need it?"

Mother had no idea who shouted out and didn't care. She was prepared. "Because of all the other people coming in. Because if we want to be a legitimate town, if we want to be taken seriously by the emerging world, then we have to keep law and order."

Mack stood up. "'Scuse me, but I didn't vote on no laws."

Mother shook her head. "No. And you won't. Not here."

Wolf moved his hand to his belt, knowing there could be real trouble. His eyes scanned the crowd and he saw several unhappy citizens turning angry.

"I live in the United States of America..."

"No," Mother said firmly, cutting him off. "You don't. What you knew as America is gone. I'm sorry," she said to the rest of the group when they murmured. "I'm just as sorry as the rest of you. I was a good citizen, a hard working citizen, a law abiding, tax paying citizen just like the rest of you and it royally sucks to have to admit it's gone. But look around. We have no politicians. There isn't a president to guide us. I said it before, and I'll keep saying it until everyone understands our situation. We are it. Until the country can pull together and start again, we are it. We have to hold the reins. We have to take control for ourselves. And we have to have law and order or we've got no future."

Mother spun around and looked at the people. They were now utterly silent, and while she didn't know if that was good or bad, she just had to press ahead and hope. She read the laws off one by one, in a clear voice that brokered no argument. When she was done, she walked over to the barn door and tacked the paper in place for all to read when she was finished, then returned to the center of the barn. "I invited you all here to help me build something great. And if anyone would like to step away from all we've accomplished, I will not stop you. I'll give you a case of food and a tent, and I will honestly wish you well." She pointed to the list of laws, the white paper almost glowing in the morning sun against the red barn door. "But this is my town, and those are my laws, and if they are not obeyed, there will be consequences."

Before anyone could react, Mother changed tactics. "Now that all that heavy stuff is out of the way, I'd like to talk about the second part of my plan." She made her voice bright and light and hoped it would work to calm tempers and soothe fears. "I can't lead by myself, and I'm honestly not trying to. I have always taken your suggestions to heart, and I value the knowledge that each of you can bring to the table. In order to go forward, I need the continued input you all provide. And I believe the best way to make sure your concerns are voiced and heard is through the Town Council I mentioned earlier. One week from today, we will hold an election for three community members to join the Town Council. Gus will be the representative I select, since he has been key in many of the successful aspects of Newton, and you will choose the other three. Those who wish to run may campaign, but I will not put up with any strong-arm tactics." She turned and gave Blaze a comically exaggerated stare, and there were some laughs from the group.

"I want Newton to set the example for the rest. I want us to be successful on every level. And it's time we start to take this town and make it something everyone wants. That starts with law, that starts with order, and most importantly, that starts with your voices and concerns." She held a finger up, knowing it was time to bow out and let the bees buzz over the news. "One week from today, and we'll take the next critical step to making Newton be that place!" She turned and swiftly walked out, ignoring the people calling questions.

Mother was shaking inside and needed to get some space, some time to think. She was planning on returning to the house, but turned at the last second and hopped into the passenger's seat of the jeep. Wolf followed her lead, glad she was giving the town a little cool down. "Where to?"

Mother shrugged. "Tahiti."

Wolf started the jeep and revved the engine. "Yes, ma'am!"

Mother sighed. "The lake I guess. Anywhere. Just go before they start yammering." Before she was done talking, the jeep lurched forward and kicked up a spray of gravel as Wolf peeled out down the hill. Mother took a deep breath, loving the feel of the warm air rushing through her hair. Space. She just needed a little space. She took a deep breath, then another.

They pulled up to the lake. Gus would have his fishing crew down casting out their lines later, but for the moment, nothing moved but a duck, paddling in the shallows looking for a morning snack. Mother climbed up on the big rock by the edge of the water and leaned back, letting the warm sun bleach out her fears. "I think it went well," she said eventually.

Wolf hopped up on the rock next to her and lit a cigarette. "Not everyone thinks that."

"I know," Mother admitted. "But at least they didn't boo. And I really think they liked the part about the council."

She handled that shift well. Wolf had seen many polished politicians fail to get a crowd back under control once they started to get upset. "That look you shot at Blaze was good."

Mother smiled, her eyes still closed in the bright sunshine. "I feel bad singling him out, but I thought I better do something they could laugh at." She suddenly frowned. "You think we'll be paying out any cases and tents?"

Wolf had no idea if any of them would leave. He personally hoped they would. "It'd make my job easier."

"I hope they don't." Mother sat up and looked across the lake. The duck had paddled out to deeper waters and sent ripples across the otherwise placid surface. It stopped still for a second before flipping it's rear end in the air and kicking its feet. When it righted itself again, it had a small fish in its bill for a split second before it tipped its head back and swallowed its prey. Satisfied, it shook the water droplets off its head feathers, ruffled its wings, and then took off. Mother watched the ripple line it left in its wake spread and thin until everything was still. A puff of smoke from Wolf's cigarette wafted across her view and she frowned.

"Must you blow that in my direction?"

Wolf didn't answer. He knew she wasn't expecting him to, anyway. They'd had the same conversation before, and he'd simply tell her now what he told her then. He had two vices in a very hard life: he drank coffee and he smoked cigarettes, neither of which he did in front of the general population. If it was asking too much to enjoy them in their rare moments alone, well, then... And always, she would just roll her eyes and wave a hand and concede. By now, he figured it was just a game she played.

"I wonder how Stealth's holding up in quarantine," Mother said eventually.

Wolf exhaled slowly on a sigh. It was another attempt by her to find out details that neither he nor Stealth would want her to know about their pasts. She wouldn't ask directly, of course. But she'd hint and hope he'd share a little too much. In the days since Stealth appeared, she'd tried to start several conversations along those lines, and each time, Wolf was able to head them off. There were things he never wanted her to know. Hell, he wished he could forget them himself. "I'm sure he's fine."

"Why do you hate him?"

Wolf's eyebrow shot up. Okay, so maybe she _would_ ask directly. "Been eating at you, has it?"

Mother gave him a bland look. "It's a valid question."

"I thought you didn't pry."

Mother waved a hand in dismissal. "I don't. With them. But come on, you know it's different with us."

Wolf's hand froze on the way to his mouth, the cigarette smoke curling up into his eyes. He was annoyed to find his heart start to beat faster, and forced himself to act like they weren't about to enter dangerous territory. "Yeah. I get to see just what a pain in the ass you really are," he said, wishing he had managed to make his voice sound light.

"Har har," Mother said drolly. "And that goes both ways, you know."

Wolf shrugged, his mind searching for a way to steer the conversation in another direction. He would not talk about what kind of relationship they had. If he was pressed, he would have to hurt her. He would have to tell her she was just a job, and though he'd never had any problem doing that in the past, his tight chest told him that this time, he would.

"I'm talking about us." She waved a hand toward the town behind them. "All of us in the house."

The relief rolled through Wolf. All of them in the house. It wasn't a personal statement, not one on one anyway. She meant they all shared a closeness. While that thought had its own discomforts, at least he could handle it.

"As much as I like to say every person in Newton is as important to me as the next, you know you can't live with people, share the same space and not form different attachments." Wolf gave a noncommittal shrug. "I know more about Eve and Cora and even Striker than I know about any of the others. And I know more about you than probably all of them combined."

"That a fact?" Wolf was amused. He never spoke about anything from his before life. Ever. He was curious to know what she thought she knew about him. "Please, tell me all about myself then."

Mother looked at Wolf. He was laughing at her. Though he didn't so much as smile, his eyes showed how amused he was by her statement. "Let's see. I know you hate oatmeal and only humored me this morning by eating it."

"Hard-hitting stuff," he said blandly.

"You like to wear that trench coat because it looks all bad ass."

"Intimidation."

"You like to torture poor women and geeks for your own sadistic pleasures."

Wolf flashed a rare grin. "You know it."

"You like to act big, but you're not tough enough to take drinking my coffee like a man."

Wolf scoffed. "What you make is not coffee. It's brown paint thinner."

"I know you used to be some sort of agent. I know you used to protect people, powerful people." Wolf's good humor evaporated, but Mother continued. "I know you take your job seriously, too seriously sometimes, and I know you honestly just push me to keep me safe. I know you sit outside my bathroom door when I take my showers in case I need you, and I know it's you who comes in and sits in my room when I'm having bad dreams."

Wolf felt the unfamiliar sensation of embarrassment creep up his neck and burn his cheeks. She never made any sign she knew he was there. He'd have to stop. He'd have to send Eve in or something. He had to put distance between them. And most importantly, he had to get her to shut up before he was completely undone. He cleared his throat. "You're...observant."

Mother noticed the blush and was surprised. She was making him uncomfortable and the idea was intriguing. She considered pressing the issue, but the way he was puffing on that cigarette was too much. She didn't want him to get cancer all in one day. She decided to let him off the hook, for now. "And I know that you hate Stealth. And yet, you agreed to let him into town, so even though you hate him, we need him. You can't blame me for being curious as to why."

Solid ground. There was solid ground under Wolf's feet again. He ran a hand through his hair and rolled his neck, feeling the crack of tension release. Security. Comfort. Safe. "I can't do this alone. Not with you spreading out and pissing people off." Mother opened her mouth, but he wouldn't let her argue. "No, I do not want excuses, and after the past few days of training, I'm surprised you're even bothering pretending you don't understand anymore."

Mother frowned. "For your information I was actually going to concede. But now I _should_ fight just to keep you from getting an even bigger ego!"

Wolf flashed a quick grin. "Won't work. You already admitted it. You can't take it back."

Mother looked back across the lake. "You really do think we'll have more trouble?"

"Yup."
"Trouble enough to have the help of your worst enemy?"

Wolf rubbed his chin for a second, gathering his thoughts. "Two things. First, yes, that level of trouble. I'm fucking great at what I do."

"And so modest, too."

"It's true. I'm great at what I do, but what I do is keeping you safe. I can't focus on you and the town, and I'm pretty sure you'll be upset if someone hurts your loyal subjects."

Mother winced. "I hate it when you call them that."

Wolf shrugged. "You'd be pissed if any of them got hurt. Or raped. Or robbed. I can protect you, but I can't and, frankly, won't protect all of them. It would divide my focus."

Mother was surprised he was admitting a weakness. "I can't believe the big, bad Wolf is asking for help."

Wolf took no offense. "The number one most important thing in life is knowing your own limits. If you don't know your own line, you put lives at risk. Sometimes a team really is necessary. I can't be in a dozen places at once."

Mother knew that feeling first hand. The idea of the Town Council took such a weight off her shoulders the more she thought about it. Let them settle the petty shit. It would free up her time to take on the five dozen other tasks she'd been stretched too thin to accomplish. "Okay, I can see that."

"Good. And secondly, Stealth is not my worst enemy."

Mother laughed. "If lightning bolts could shoot out of your eyes, they would have."

"He's not my worst enemy. I would never, ever let my worst enemy anywhere near you."

The fierceness in Wolf's voice stopped Mother's laughter. "I didn't mean..."

"He will not hurt you. I'm certain of that. We have different goals," he said carefully. "We always will. And we have different methods of operation. I don't like his, he doesn't like mine. But I've never seen him take a job and double deal. As much as he personally grates on my last nerve, he won't stab you in the back, and he'll put all of his effort into accomplishing whatever task you give him."

Mother felt there was more. "But?"

"But," Wolf said, lighting another cigarette. After a long moment of thought, he continued. "You have to be very clear on what you want. If there is a job you need doing and you care about the way it's done, you have to spell it out."

Mother gave a small laugh. "You make him sound like a moron."

"No," Wolf said quickly and firmly. "Don't mistake what I'm saying. He's the exact opposite. He's brilliant, and if you ever tell him I said that, you and I are going to have a problem." It killed a part of him to admit out loud that Stealth was intelligent, that there were redeeming qualities about the man. "I'm not saying he's stupid. I'm saying that if you want things done on the up-and-up, you need to directly instruct him."

"Is he really a killer, then?"

He refused to sugar coat it. "Yes, in the right situation."

"You keep telling me that in the right situation, everyone is a killer."

"Yup, and I mean that. But his line...it's different than yours. It's different than mine." Wolf pointed across the lake with his cigarette. "Stealth will take the most direct route to solve a problem, and if someone gets in his way, the quickest and easiest thing is to get rid of that person."

Mother's eyes widened and she turned to look across the lake again, trying to absorb it all, trying to decide how she felt about it. "And yet you let him in here," she said eventually.

"Yes. We need him."

"We don't need a killer."

"We need a problem solver. You won't find anyone more capable of working out a defense system for this town. Well, other than me, that is, and I'm already employed."

Mother knew the last bit was said to try and lighten the heavy moment, but she ignored his humor. "One weight off, and other ten in its place," she said quietly.

"I've been trying to tell you for months what you're opening yourself up to," Wolf said.

Mother sighed heavily. "Yeah, I know. I'm listening."

Wolf watched her and really hoped it was true. He knew that honest, deep understanding would only come with experience, and that thought terrified him. It drove him. It's what made him push Mother until she was bruised and broken and exhausted. There was always the chance that the experience would come when he wasn't there, and if he didn't pound the lessons into her head, almost literally, then she wouldn't be ready. As scary as Stealth was on one level, Wolf was mentally ticking down the hours until Stealth was free from quarantine and could help, too. They had until October to design a defensive structure for the town. Between farming, then harvesting, preparing for winter and hunting, there wouldn't be much time to make that happen. He needed all the help he could get, even if that help would no doubt drive him nuts.

Mother took an enormous step that day. He'd watched the crowd. While some people bristled, he doubted there would be any real trouble. These people had been living under the same laws for months, even if they were unspoken. The rest of the world, that's where the trouble lay in wait, and she was inviting it in. He knew she'd worry about Stealth and what was under the polished, charismatic surface. Good, let her worry. He wanted her to know she had to tread lightly. Stealth wouldn't hurt her, but there would come the day when he scared her, and if she saw it coming she could handle it.

They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Mother knew they had to get back to town. They had to see if there would be any fallout, complaints, or deserters who didn't want the structure she demanded out of the blue. Mother still couldn't believe she did that on one level. _I really drew a line in the sand_ , she thought to herself. Just a few months ago, she would have done what Gus and Cora had suggested and waited for the result of the poll to move forward. Maybe she was finally growing the balls Wolf seemed to think she needed.

"I guess we better get back," she said when the sun had risen high enough to threaten to burn. "Our Tahitian vacation is over."

Wolf flicked his cigarette and hopped off the rock. "Doesn't have to end," he pointed out, making the offer to take her and split yet again.

"You're right," Mother said, tilting her head. "Why do the good times have to end? Let's say we're still on vacation all day." Wolf quirked an eyebrow in her direction, wondering what she was getting at. "Yes, a terrific idea, Mr. Wolf!" She thumped him on the back. "That settles it, no training today."

Wolf bit back the smile. He had to hand it to her, she was clever. "Nice try."

Chapter 15

Stealth sat like a good boy in his quarantine house, waiting for Mother to come officially release him. Though he had popped in an out to have a good look around the area, Mother believe that he had been good and spent six solid weeks in lock up. It seemed very important to Mother that she make the release day some kind of event. In truth, he had only spent the nights in the house. He'd been very careful to avoid people, but he couldn't be cooped up like a caged animal. He spent his days exploring, learning the area, and planning.

Stealth had joined them at their burns twice, the two nights of company breaking up the six weeks of monotonous seclusion. Not that he minded being outside of it all. In fact, he lived for it. He thrived on the thrill of being in the shadows, unseen but ever present. He loved keeping those skills sharp. They served him well in the past and they'd continue to do so the rest of his life. But six weeks of planning had him ready for action.

Wolf hadn't been kidding when he said that Mother would need better security for Newton. Better? Could there really be "better" when he was starting with nothing at all? There was no fence, no gate, just open roads and fields. He had to concede that they probably hadn't had enough time yet. The town wasn't even a year old, and he cut them that slack. But, they also had no guards, no one looking out for the community, no eyes on the hills scanning for trouble. A night watch was unheard of, and even if they had one, there was absolutely nothing in the way of an emergency plan. They were raw and green, all of them, and he didn't have much time to get them ready for the expansion Mother blindly welcomed.

Mother arrived at the house and Stealth grabbed up his pack. "You're officially sprung," she said, sticking her hand out. It was the first time they touched without the necessary barriers of layers of protective clothing, and Stealth held on a few seconds longer than he should. He didn't miss the threat that instantly flashed in Wolf's eyes.

"Well, I guess I'm now a fine, upstanding citizen," he said with a grin, finally releasing Mother's hand. He nodded toward Wolf. "Mornin', pup."

Wolf nodded back. "Mornin', asshole."

Mother sighed. The few meetings between the three of them had taught her the two men simply could not be nice to each other. They constantly shot barbs back and forth, like Eve and Striker. "Do I have to separate you two already?"

"Aw, now, I know your lap dog's just kidding around."

Wolf rolled his eyes and got back in the jeep. "Unless you're planning to walk back to town..."

"Yeah, yeah," Mother said, cutting him off. "Come on."

They got into the jeep and headed back towards the center of town. "I'll introduce you at breakfast," Mother told Stealth over the sound of the wind whipping into the open jeep. "Then you can spend a few days getting a feel for the town and let me know what you're planning to do."

"I'll meet the town, but I don't need a few days. I've got a plan, and if I can have a few minutes of your time, I'll brief you and tell you what I need."

Mother was impressed. "You're an efficient one, aren't you?"

Stealth flashed a smile. "No other way to be."

At breakfast that morning, Mother watched the rest of the town as the people asked Stealth questions, paying careful attention to the women and how they reacted. They were charmed, as she knew they would be, and Stealth played up to it like a pro. Good, she thought. Maybe they'd have more than one pregnant woman soon. They'd need to start having babies if they were actually going to move ahead. A few events with booze so far, and only one person was pregnant. Granted, she had a small town. And many of the women were probably at the very end of their reproductive capabilities. But one pregnancy after eleven cases of booze? It wasn't a comfortable ratio.

After breakfast, Stealth was invited inside to meet Eve, who'd been down with a cold and didn't attend the meal, and Cora. Mother was stunned to see Eve clam up completely around Stealth, and made a note to ask her about that later. Or tease. She smiled to herself. Yes, she would definitely tease Eve about it. When those crucial introductions were done, they got down to business. An hour later, Mother was simply overwhelmed with everything Stealth had planned. He wanted a guarded fence, around the perimeter of the whole town. Three of the main roads leading into town were to be destroyed, with manned guard shacks placed at regular intervals on the remaining two roads. He demanded around-the-clock surveillance, with a mini army of trained citizens. And that was only what Stealth called "stage one".

Mother held her hand up when she couldn't take any more. "Stop! This is ridiculous!"

Stealth looked to Wolf, who simply gave him a look that said, "See what I've been dealing with?"

"We can't do this," Mother insisted.

Stealth was very good with people, even if the feelings were fake. He could play the game that Wolf could not. He knew that instead of forcing, he'd just have to explain. He had already learned that much about Mother. "I understand it's a lot to think about all at once, but I can assure you that you will need to take these basic steps to protect your town."

Mother laughed. "You don't get it. I mean, we literally cannot do this. I've got a workforce of about forty-five people. The crops are about to start coming in, and we'll need every hand to reap and preserve. I can't spare any people right now. I'm sorry, but we just don't have enough people to pull off this plan."

"It's all about priorities..."

Mother cut Stealth off with a frustrated swear. "Do you know how much you're sounding like him right now?" She pointed her thumb over her back at Wolf. "For two people that can't stand to breathe the same air, you sure enjoy beating the same drum."

Stealth spread his hands. "A good idea is a good idea, and the truth is the truth, no matter who says it."

The frustration built inside Mother, and she rubbed at her temples. He was blind in exactly the same way Wolf was. "Neither of you is understanding one very important fact. If I can't feed people through the winter, all your plans are useless. If we don't have food, we won't even have anyone to protect!" She felt like throwing something. It was the same argument over and over and she felt like she was beating her head against the wall.

"I understand," said Stealth, seeing the frustration building and knowing she must have had this same conversation with Wolf at least a dozen times to get that worked up so quickly. "And we can work in your timeline. There's got to be a compromise. You need at least some of what I've suggested done before November when you unleash a hundred new people into town. So let's start writing things down, and we'll prioritize."

Wolf crossed his arms over his chest smugly, waiting for her to shoot Stealth down. When Mother finally spoke and consented, he clenched his jaw. She never agreed with _him_. He glared at Stealth, hating the man's ease with people.

Mother called for Eve. When the girl scurried in, Mother asked if she was feeling well enough to take notes. Eve nodded and grabbed a notebook, then sat as close to Mother and as far away from Stealth as possible. Stealth didn't miss the fact that he made the kid nervous, and decided to needle and have a little fun.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," he said smoothly. "I hate to see a beautiful woman ill."

Mother looked at Stealth shrewdly. While she wanted babies in her town, she did not want them from Eve. Eve was too young and her body had already been through so much in her short life. Eve's face was bright red and she refused to look at Stealth. Mother would nip this one in the bud later that day. She didn't want to press the issue in front of everyone. She'd speak to each one of them privately.

"It was just a cold," Mother told Stealth. "Now, let's get started. We're wasting the day and I've got two appointments in the clinic before I can get down to the neighborhood to check the vegetable crops."

They hatched a rough plan, though none of the parties walked away from the agreement satisfied. Stealth would get four people to train, but only on days they were not harvesting the large crops of corn, barley, and wheat. Mother would lose their help when the vegetables were being picked, canned, and dried, and Stealth wouldn't even dream of releasing them to take a trip up to the apple orchard she stumbled on during a raid. After the crops were harvested, and not a minute before, he was free to take Gus and look for the large equipment they would need to tear up the roads he wanted to destroy. Since this was the first year of harvesting, canning, and preserving food, no one had any idea how long it would take, and Stealth agreed to wait until it was finished to even think about taking people off regular work detail to start planning the fence. It was the best Stealth was going to get, and the most Mother was willing to give, and they parted being able to live with the plan.

"I'd like Wolf's help today, if you can spare him," Stealth said before he left.

Wolf quirked an eyebrow, but looked to Mother instead of answering, letting her know it was her call.

"I'm safe," she assured Wolf. "And I remembered bullets for my gun this morning."

Wolf knew that there was no threat to her, and probably wouldn't be until new people arrived. Since she had allowed the Town Council to be formed under free election, people absorbed the new laws as a necessary evil. At least they had a say. Only one man, Mack, threatened to leave, and he only did that because he was hoping to leverage a few votes towards council membership with the show of misplaced backbone. It hadn't worked, and he gave up gracefully and kept working on the construction in the house without any signs of being affected one way or the other. Wolf knew the type. All talk and no do.

"Let me know when you're heading to the neighborhood," Wolf said, pointing to the walkie.

Mother sighed and knew fighting it was useless. "Sure thing, dad. Anything else?"

"Ha," he said sarcastically, as he put on his trench and walked out behind Stealth.

Mother turned on Eve as soon as the door was closed. "I have never seen you clam up in front of anyone before."

Eve rolled her eyes. "Holy hell. You didn't tell me he was a fucking god. Did you see those eyes? Like, I melted. God, totally pathetic, huh?"

It tickled Mother that Eve wasn't embarrassed to discuss such personal things. She'd always heard of girl friends like that, ones that would just say what was on their minds and let the chips fall where they may. She'd never had one before, and while she doubted she'd ever be able to be as candid as Eve, she loved being around her in those moments. "Well, you better get used to him. He's sticking around for awhile."

Eve smiled wide. "Oh, I'll get used to him alright." She waggled her eyebrows.

Mother frowned. "Oh, no. Nope. You, young lady, will keep your...goodies to yourself on that front!"

Eve stared at Mother for a minute before bursting out in laughter. "My goodies? Oh, god! You should see your face!"

Mother felt her cheeks burn, but she needed to make sure Eve understood the point. "I mean it. You're far too young..."

Eve held her hands up. "Okay, okay. I get it," she said between giggles. "Hands off. Don't worry. I'm not looking to have another kid stuck in me for awhile."

Eve said the words while she smiled, but something in Mother ached for her. Stuck in her? What a way to put it. Her heart ached for her young friend. "Yes," she said, looking away. "Well, I'm just saying, I don't want any hanky-panky in the house."

Eve burst into another round of laughter, then started coughing. She took a tissue out of her pocket and blew her nose, then shook her head. "Don't worry. My goodies won't have any hanky-panky for a long time, okay? But boy, you have to admit, the man adds a little something to the place, doesn't he?"

He did. Mother couldn't argue that and gave a little shrug. "Now, who am I seeing in the clinic again?"

"Blaze, then Denise."

Mother groaned. Blaze liked to run his mouth and pretend he was bad ass, but really he was a big old baby. Since Mother started seeing people who needed medical attention, he'd been to see her at least a dozen times with every minor ailment he could think up. Mother knew that he was just insecure, young, and looking for a little maternal attention. His surprising vulnerability was the one redeeming quality Mother found in Blaze so far, and that was the only reason she kept allowing him to waste her time. She'd slap on a band aid, give the boo boo a little kiss, and then he wouldn't cause trouble for the rest of the day. "What's wrong with him this time?"

Eve shrugged. "Dunno. He just said it was important."

Mother downed the rest of her coffee and then stood, heading for the makeshift clinic. "Call him and send him up."

"I can't," Eve said. "The phone line's down going to the neighborhood."

Mother stopped and felt a cold weight settle. She knew it would happen eventually. She knew that one by one the comforts they'd taken for advantage all their lives would stop because there was no one left to keep them going. And with each loss, they'd have to find a way to move on without. Mother knew it was coming. Still, hearing that it was starting to happen sent an icy chill down her spine. "No service?" Mother asked.

"No, the whole line came down."

Mother swallowed. "Get Striker on it."

"He is."

Mother nodded, hoping he could fix it. She wasn't ready to start ticking off that particular list yet. She swallowed back the scream of panic and took a deep breath. "Okay, then. I guess I'll just have to...uh...go get Blaze?" Eve shrugged. She had no clue what to do, either, and that made Mother even more uncomfortable. Without thinking, she unclipped her walkie and called for Wolf.

"I just left," he said through the machine she hated. "Over."

"The phone line's down."

"What? Over."

"To the neighborhoods. It's down. Striker's on it, but..." she trailed off, not knowing what else she could say, and knowing she didn't need to explain. He'd understand.

There was a long pause before Wolf's voice came back through the walkie. "If it can be fixed, he'll do it. If he can't, it's not the end of the world. Over"

Mother felt better just for hearing the reassurance in his calm voice. "Right." She felt the scream fading inside once again. She had this. They had this. It wasn't a shock, they knew it was coming. They could cope. "Thanks," she said, feeling better. "Uh, could you swing by and let Blaze and Denise know I'm at the clinic?"

"On it. Anything else? Over."

"Nope."

"Then over and out," he said.

Mother refused to answer in kind. There was no need for ridiculous lingo on the walkie talkies, no matter what Wolf said. She clipped it back on her belt, smiling at the look she knew would be on his face. She took a deep breath and felt worlds better. She went into the clinic to wait for Blaze.

Blaze had diarrhea. He moaned and whined and tried to convince her he was dying. She gave him some bismuth tablets and sent him on his way with instructions to rest for the afternoon. She wondered if he actually was having stomach problems, or just needed some personal attention. Either way, the bismuth tablets wouldn't hurt and she put the other boxes of medicines she'd had to dig through to find them back in their containers. She was just sitting back down when Denise came in.

Mother smiled at Denise's growing belly. As best as they could figure, Denise was about five months pregnant. Mother had initially been disappointed to learn that Steve was the father. For some reason, she thought Steve had an interest in Cora, and though she was happy for Denise, she was sorry that Cora didn't have someone to lean on through her trial.

"How are we doing today?" Mother asked, motioning towards a chair.

"I'd be doing better if I didn't suddenly have to pee all the time." Denise was thirty two, and this was her first pregnancy. She'd had morning sickness fairly bad in the beginning, but since it cleared up after the third month, there had been no other issues. At least they all had to take it for granted that there weren't. Really, though, would Mother know if there were any? No, she would not, and those thoughts drove her mad if she let herself dwell on them. She had no idea how to tell if things were progressing as normal. Of course there were women in the town that had babies, but their losses were still so fresh and raw that Mother thought it would just be cruel to ask their advice. A couple had volunteered a few tidbits of information, and Cora had Striker go to the library and find a book about what expecting mothers should expect. They would all just have to learn together and hope for the best.

"I see you've popped."

Denise smiled. "Just in the last couple days. I swear to god I was just a little round one minute, then boom!" She motioned with her hands like her stomach was exploding.

Mother's smile widened. "So. What brings you up here?"

"I told Steve I'd come and talk to you about maybe lessening a bit of my work load. I don't want to be a whine ass or anything, and I want to pull my own weight..."

"Say no more," Mother said, feeling bad that she hadn't thought about that. Of course Denise needed more rest. Mother couldn't keep Denise on the same schedule she worked before, and she felt like a royal heel for making the poor woman work so much. "You have more than pulled your weight around here. What do you feel like you could handle?"

Denise shook her head. "More than Steve thinks!"

Mother nodded. "Ah. So an over protective papa."

Denise gave a wry smile and rubbed her growing belly. "Yep, pretty much. Though I will admit, it's getting a bit hard on the back to be weeding."

Denise took great pride in her cucumber patch and rows of herbs. Her home garden looked better than any of the others, and that was because she could be found working up to her elbows in dirt whenever she wasn't on an assigned job. She put endless hours into her garden, and Mother had already decided to turn over a more important vegetable to her capable hands the next year. Denise could probably figure out how to tame the damn tomatoes.

"I didn't know you were having discomfort," Mother said with a frown.

Denise shook her head quickly. "Only just this week, and because I'm carting around this watermelon," she said, patting her stomach. "I don't want to slow down, but I'm afraid I'll have to. Maybe desk work. Or canning. I can research the canning and organize that detail."

Denise was on the Town Council. She knew as well as anyone the sheer volume of work they were about to deal with to preserve all the vegetables, and it pleased Mother that she'd already thought of another way to be useful. Denise was one of her best people, and Mother knew how lucky she was to have her. "That sounds like an excellent idea," agreed Mother. "Think that'll satisfy Daddy?"

Denise grinned. "It better. I won't sit around eating bonbons and watching soaps, and he's just going to have to deal with it!" Mother threw her head back and laughed as Denise hoisted her growing body up and out of the chair. "I gotta be honest, though. I really could use a bonbon about now. God, wouldn't that be heaven?"

Mother smiled back at the woman, remembering the ice cream treats. "Maybe once these cows start producing milk we'll just have to see if we can't figure out how to make a little ice cream."

"Mmm," Denise groaned, closing her eyes. "Ice cream." She sighed heavily. "Or pizza. A hot, bubbling pizza."

Mother's mouth watered. Denise hit on her fantasy food. "We are going to a bad place with this conversation," she said with a wry smile.

Denise grinned. "Ah, but isn't it nice to remember?"

The women said goodbye, and Mother called Eve. "Make a note. In the future pregnant women will be put on light duty."

Eve quirked an eyebrow. "What, like they'll break or something? She's pregnant, not made out of glass."

"Yes, but she has to be pregnant without bonbons and soap operas." Eve looked confused, but it made sense to Mother. "Just make a note to remind me, okay?"

Eve shrugged. "Okay. Your call."

"I'm heading down to check the vegetables." She called Wolf on the walkie to let him know she was leaving the house, then headed down to the neighborhood where her people lived. They'd be moving and spreading out again before winter. There were plenty of houses clean, and while Mother wished she could keep the people packed tight in a neat and easy to monitor bundle, the Town Council said there had been more complaints about roommate issues than anything else. Folks were getting under each other's feet, and it was time to let them have some space. Until the harvest, though, all of that was put on hold. The main focus at the moment was tending the fields, watching for the signs of peak ripeness, and gathering all they'd need to make the harvest a success.

Mother walked through the home gardens, admitting the idea to have the people individually responsible for the various vegetables was a good one. It would be a temporary arrangement that worked when preparing for a small number of people, but it was working for the time being. Next year when they had more hands, they could clear some vegetable fields, set people to growing the mass quantities that would be needed to feed all those extra hands. This year, the small gardens proved to be the only plan that seemed manageable. And boy did it ever work! The front yards of each of the houses were bursting with ripening tomatoes, cucumbers, green onions, squashes, and herbs. Several items had been picked and canned or dried during the summer, but the bulk was just about to come in.

All but the beans. Mother stopped at the two yards that had tall poles of bean plants growing up and around them. She hadn't planned on growing beans. No one had. They simply planted the seeds that they'd gotten from the feed store and been happy about that until Cora had wheeled out in a panic, a book devoted to subsistence farming open on her lap, and said they had royally screwed up by not planting beans.

"We could eat them fresh or dry them or use them for feed," she had said, her voice on the edge of hysteria. "I can't believe I forgot about the damn beans! We need them. If we do it now, we can get a crop in before frost."

Mother had taken Cora's words to heart and had scrambled to till more land and get beans planted. As Mother stood looking at them in the August afternoon, she wasn't sure they would get a crop in before the frost. The blossoms had just fallen off and the bean pods were tiny on the thick vines. Sighing, she gently released the little bean she was looking at and moved on. There was nothing to be done for it. Either they'd have beans or they wouldn't. Not for the first time, she wished she could control the weather. Or at least be able to predict it.

"But, you can't," Mother said to herself as she walked down the rows of herbs. She liked the smell of that section of the neighborhood the best. It always smelled fresh and crisp, no matter what the rest of the town smelled like, and she'd miss it in the winter. She fought the childish urge to sit down in the warm, sun-softened dirt and just spend the afternoon watching the lady bugs crawl up the stalks. She had too much to do to while away the day, no matter how great her desire was for a little whiling.

A golf cart rolled past her and she turned to watch. Striker had rigged up a few golf carts with some solar panels he'd found on a raid and was very proud to tool around town in his creation. Mother had to give him credit. As much of a loose cannon as he could be, he'd taken Wolf's words and punishment to heart and spent his days looking for problems and figuring out solutions instead of playing his own internet games. Oh, Striker still did special jobs for her, of course, ones Wolf was never to find out about. But, he had become much more community-minded, and she appreciated that.

When Striker noticed Mother in the herb garden, he stopped and hit reverse until he was next to her. "I'm going to rig up a new system to that downed line. Wanna come?"

Mother hopped in. "So what happened to it?"

"I thought it was the company at first, but the rest of the town is working. The numbers we know, anyway. So I figured it had to be the lines and came out to check and yep, chopped right down by Mack's place by a tree limb."

"Shit. Can we repair?"

Striker shrugged. "I mean, I could climb up and figure out how to reconnect the phone line to the boxes on top of the poles, but the service is probably cut automatically from the other end."

Mother frowned. "What do you mean?"

Striker had learned early that while she needed new concepts explained, she was not stupid. "Line goes down, send feedback to the system, central command shuts down service to that section to save transmission costs."

Mother snorted. As if there was anyone left to pay a bill! "Costs to who?"

Striker smiled. "I know, and you know, but they don't. Robots don't care, they just do what they're told. So anyway, even if I could get up on top of that super tall and scary-as-hell pole and get the line reconnected, I'm not sure it would work."

"Okay, then. What's the plan?"

He nodded his head toward the small compartment in the back. Mother craned around and saw a coil of cable. "I'm just going to hook our own lines up right to the house. That way, we've got sole control over it, like an internal system they'd use in an office or school or something."

"That sounds like it'll take awhile."

He shrugged. "I'll work at it until you tell me to do something else. Shouldn't take all that long."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing here?"

A smile spread. "Well, I don't like to brag or anything, but my friends all enjoyed free phone, internet, and cable." He stopped the golf cart at the apex of the cul de sac. "You want to help?"

Mother looked at his eager face and shrugged. Why not? She had planned to help Eve list out the medical supplies, but Eve could handle that on her own and Mother knew she usually just got in the way. She climbed out and helped followed Striker. "So, what do we do?"

Across town, Wolf stood on a hill looking over the roads with Stealth. From the top of the small, grassy rise they got a good look at the town and the surrounding area. Stealth was pointing out what he'd seen as weaknesses, as well as the few areas of strategic strength Newton offered. They were discussing the need to close off most of the roads in and out of Newton, and overall, Wolf agreed with Stealth's plans.

"If we close that road, we lose use of the bridge," Wolf pointed out. "We'll have to go twenty miles out of our way if we want to cross into Vermont."

Stealth shrugged. "Yeah, but we've got the interstate to the south." It was a good point, and Wolf had to admit that Stealth had clearly spent his confinement wisely. Then again, he never doubted the man's abilities. "Besides," Stealth continued. "We've got a clear run to Boston still."

"Boston still going?"

Stealth shrugged. "As much as any. Families are moving in, but unlike New York, Boston's looking to deal."

Wolf nodded. "Good." They'd need any supplies they could get in the future and they would do well to start making contacts and ties now before they had much competition. If Boston was open to start dealing, it would be a great connection to have. "We all set here?"

"With planning? Yeah."

Wolf knew that tone of voice. "But?"

Stealth sighed. "I need a favor."

"Nope," Wolf said, turning and starting for the jeep.

Stealth laughed. "Seriously? After all I'm doing here?"

Wolf put his hands up. "Not my business. Take that up with the boss."

Stealth shook his head and followed Wolf to the jeep. "Don't you even want to know what it is?"

"Nope."

"Come on, dog."

"I don't do favors, especially for you. You need something, ask Mother." Wolf started the jeep and peeled out, making Stealth scramble to hold on.

"Jesus you're hell on wheels. I'm driving next time." Stealth held on for dear life as they whipped around a corner. He needed Wolf to do something for him and he needed to figure out which buttons he had to push to make that happen. The fact was, he couldn't ask Mother for help, not with this. He'd been studying her for seven long weeks, and by then, he knew more about her than just about anyone. It wasn't conceit, it was simply his job to learn quickly and assess accurately. In the past, not only his life, but the lives of untold thousands depended on his honed skills. Stealth couldn't ask Mother because she wouldn't allow his request and he damn well knew it.

"I can't ask her," Stealth said when they were on straight, solid road and he didn't have to spend so much effort just to stay in his seat. "She'd say no."

Wolf let out a bark of laughter that contained no real humor. "Officially part of the town one day and already undermining her authority?"

Stealth rolled his neck until it cracked. "I'm asking out of courtesy. You know damn well I could get whatever I wanted. I'm trying to follow the rules."

Wolf slammed the brakes on the jeep and skidded to a stop. He threw the gear in park and turned to look Stealth in the eye. "Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?"

"It's nothing more than the truth, agent."

Wolf had several options. He could drive Stealth far away and kick him out of the jeep and out of the town. He could shoot him. He was rusty, but he was mostly sure he could end up the victor. He could use his knife and probably be more accurate. He let the thoughts tick off his mental list until the anger cleared and cooled. He wouldn't do any of those things, and the problem was, they both knew it. "Your threats are going to get you in trouble one of these days. I won't hesitate if I feel I have to take you down to keep her safe."

Stealth knew it and respected Wolf for his loyalty. Wolf would fight to the bitter end to protect whoever he worked for, and something in his eyes said this particular job was more important to him than any in the past. Stealth never wanted to face off with Wolf, not like that. "I need three things. I can get them and you and she would never know. As it is, I don't think she'll want to know, no matter how I go about it. I'm asking you out of respect for the system you've created here."

"She's created," Wolf said firmly.

Stealth lifted a shoulder in concession. "Fine. Now, I need to ask one of the men in Newton a few questions."

Wolf quirked an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Goes by the name of Harold."

Wolf searched his memory. "Middle aged guy, bald on top, kind of slow?" Stealth nodded and Wolf frowned. Harold was pretty much background in Newton. He never caused trouble, but he never made himself stand out, either. He was average, part of the drone work force that just did as they were told during the day and kept to themselves at night. There was nothing about the man that Wolf could pinpoint as being of an interest to Stealth. "What are you going to do with him?"

"That's the second favor. Don't ask."

Wolf swore and shook his head. "I knew letting you come here would be a mistake. I just didn't think you'd make me regret it quite so fast!"

Stealth just sat and let the man rant until Wolf grew silent. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Wolf knew that. He may have butt heads with Stealth at almost every turn, but he knew that no matter what was said about him, whatever the grapevine claimed, Stealth worked for the job and the job only. He'd never seen any instance of personal revenge, anger, or pettiness before, and he knew that wasn't the case now. Still, to give Stealth a pass so early was asking a lot. "Why," he demanded. "Tell me why."

"That's the third favor."

Wolf started shaking his head before Stealth's words were out. "Nope. Sorry, that's asking one too far."

Stealth flashed a smile. "So you'd be okay with the first two?"

Wolf gripped the steering wheel tightly. "I didn't say that..."

"Oh yes you did, Wolfie." Wolf's eyes flashed with anger and Stealth pulled it back just a notch. He was close to having the agent on his side, and he didn't want to blow it. "If I tell you why, will you let me interrogate the man?"

"I thought you said 'ask a few questions'?"

Stealth waved a hand. "You say potato, I say pot _ah_ to." Wolf gave him a bland look. "I have my ways, and you have yours. They aren't the same and rehashing that old argument will get us nowhere."

It was true. "In this town, that's not how we do things," Wolf explained.

"Are you getting soft, agent? You know damn well that sometimes in _any_ town that's how you have to do things."

Wolf rubbed his temple. The simple fact was that Stealth was right. Sometimes you had to break the rules and step outside the ordinary confines of law for the greater good. "I can't just say go balls out on some poor schmuck without knowing why." He felt the acid in his stomach roil and was dangerously close to admitting he felt a guilt about doing what he knew Mother wouldn't like, no matter the reason. Hell, maybe he was getting soft.

Stealth thought it over for a second. He wasn't a big one for compromise, and already that day he'd had to settle. But, he always got the job done. If he gave a little now, he could do what he had to do. "The man who goes by Harold used to be Stanley Olsen. He was a supervisor in a local county child protective office in Jackson."

"Not your usual target," Wolf said.

Stealth shrugged. "This world we're in makes strange bedfellows and stranger enemies."

Wolf tried, but couldn't think of any possible reason Stealth would be interested in a washed up social worker. "What kind of threat could a social worker possibly present?"

Stealth considered how much he should say. He needed to say enough to get Wolf to understand, to get Wolf on his side, but not enough that Wolf couldn't personally look the other way and simply let Stealth handle it. "About twelve years ago he oversaw a family court case. The particular family had two little girls who were, shall we say...abused."

Wolf's heart started to thump and the grip on the steering wheel tightened until his knuckles turned white. He had the sinking feeling inside that he knew where Stealth was heading. "It was her, wasn't it?" Wolf turned to look at Stealth with cold steel in his eyes.

Stealth nodded. "And I figure if Mother spent so much effort mucking around in the federal databases erasing herself, she wouldn't want anyone around that might remember." There was an odd look on Wolf's face and it took the span of three heartbeats for Stealth to figure it out. "Holy shit. You don't know who she is, do you?"

Wolf's mind suddenly raced with all the questions he'd never asked Mother. It was clear Stealth knew. It was clear that the man knew who she was, her name, her age. He knew details about her, enough to hunt up anyone that might remember, anyone who might know and use it to their personal advantage. The bastard knew everything Wolf didn't and for some reason Wolf wanted to kick the shit out of Stealth simply for knowing, for having that intimate information she'd never shared.

It was that thought that calmed Wolf. She never shared. She never said. She went out of her way to avoid all but the most basic hints as to who she was before. She never said, and Wolf never asked, and he let her keep it to herself because it was something she seemed to need. She needed to lock that old version of herself away, and he could respect that. He always had, and he always would.

"I know who she is," Wolf insisted. "You just know who she was."

Stealth sat back and looked at his old adversary. Wolf honestly had no idea who he was working for, who she was, where she came from...the very basics of intel any decent agent gathered before accepting a job. It was a massive breach of standard protocol, and it did not make sense. _He should ask_ , Stealth thought. _He should beg and threaten to get this information. Even if he never wanted it before, he should demand it now._ "You don't want me to tell you?"

"Nope."

Stealth sat, stunned by the unusual sensation of confusion. Then again, Wolf had always been sort of an enigma. Still...

"If you think what the man knows could be damaging, I'll let you handle it," Wolf said quietly. "But if she finds out, my name is kept out of it. Deal?"

"You really aren't going to ask? Do you even know how old she is?"

Wolf started the jeep. "Are you going to take the deal or not?"

Stealth nodded and waved a hand. "Yeah. I was going to do it anyway." The jeep lurched forward and Stealth grabbed the roll bar to keep his seat. "Don't you even want to know her name?"

"I know her name," Wolf said with a finality to his voice that would end the conversation. If he ever learned who she was before, it would be from her mouth, her confession. As much as he'd love the information, love to get a better picture of the life that made her, he wouldn't pry. He was damned tempted, but he wouldn't. To sneak around and find it from someone else would be a betrayal he just couldn't carry out. If he found out, it would be from her, and no one else. He knew her, knew who she really was. "Her name is Mother."

And that was all that mattered.

Chapter 16

The great harvest was turning into a huge disappointment and there was no other way to put it. What should have taken a week had already taken two so far, and every step seemed to drag. Mother tried to keep the people pepped up, keep their spirits high by pointing out the first year was the hardest, but morale was low.

The vegetables they'd so carefully grown were canned or dried or pickled and put into storage to be rationed out through the winter. The process was long, every step from the tilling to the canning taking a lot of personal effort from each and every citizen, and the sad amount they ended up with in the end made the whole thing seem worthless. They got a lot of food, but anyone with eyes could look and see it wasn't the boon they were expecting. The tomato plants had spread so far, seemed like so much. It was almost soul-crushing for the people who worked so hard to learn that most of the growth was inedible vines as they stared at the small pile of actual fruit.

Mother did her best to keep pushing her people, to point out that they still had grains and apples, to remind them of the huge hunt that was planned for later in the month. They followed, spirits subdued but still overall up, until the grains harvesting. The corn reaping went fairly smoothly, but as soon as the worker realized they'd have to not only reap but thresh the wheat and barley as well, it was all downhill. The work was hard and demanding, and the required working hours were long to take advantage of a window of dry, temperate weather. Mother had no idea when the cold would roll in, or a storm, or even a decent wind that could strip the ripened, fragile kernels off the stalks before her people could get to them. When the days dragged out and progress wasn't as fast as Mother would like, she had to fight her own panic back and push them harder. She had Striker rig up lights to work into the night. By the time she allowed a day off, seeing the broken, defeated looks in the hollow eyes around her, she knew there was a simmering resentment that could lead to trouble.

"I don't know what the fuck they expected," Mother raged as she paced around Cora's room.

Cora sat patiently at her desk, flipping through a medical book. She'd just sit quietly and let Mother vent until she had cooled enough to ask for advice. It had become almost a ritual.

"It's almost October. At any moment we could get a big storm. It's already frosted. Frost! We have to get it all in now. What's that expression? Make hay while the sun shines?" Mother took off the hat she was wearing and threw it to the floor in frustration. "That expression is literally about what we're trying to do!"

Cora flipped another page, glancing at a diagram on breech births. She noted the page number in her little notebook and planned to study it even closer when she could concentrate. She heard Mother sigh, then heard her flop back on the bed. Smiling to herself, Cora put a sticky note on the page to mark her place, then shut the book and turned her wheelchair around. "Feel better?"

Mother stared at Cora's pink ceiling. When they had finished building the room, Mother let Cora decide what she wanted for decor. Pink and flowers ended up being Cora's choice, and though it wasn't Mother's particular taste, she had to admit the room oozed Cora's personality. Her new personality, that was. The soft, gentle, understanding woman that emerged from the horror of the accident. "No," Mother said in a whine.

Cora rolled her chair over to her bed and patted Mother's leg. "You have to do this, and you know it. You're completely right that the weather could change and I guarantee as soon as a storm hits, they'll all look back and thank their lucky stars that they listened to you."

Mother closed her eyes against the headache she'd had for weeks. "You almost sound like you know what you're talking about."

"Gee, thanks," Cora said with a half smile.

"I hate when they hate me," Mother admitted quietly.

Cora felt bad for Mother. Being a member of the farmhouse let her see the vulnerable side of Mother that the others never did. She knew the pain Mother felt, how torn she was over difficult decisions. Cora wished she could take a snapshot of that very moment to show people, to help them see the vulnerability, the hurt, the pain of being in charge. But she couldn't. She knew it would undermine Mother on a level that could be very destructive. The most Cora could do was listen and help Mother deal with her demons.

"I know," Cora said, struck with inspiration. "A festival. That's what we need. Let them start planning a harvest festival!"

Mother snorted. "Another drunk bash, eh?"

Cora shrugged. "It's worked in the past. Maybe make it more defined, though. A specific occasion."

Mother pushed up on her elbow and tilted her head. "Like a holiday?"

Cora clapped. "That's it! Newton's first official holiday!"

Mother had to admit the idea had merit. "Hm. You think that'll be enough?"

"Good food and loud music go a long way."

"And the booze doesn't hurt, either."

Cora grinned. "No, I can't say that it does."

Mother sighed and got out of Cora's bed. She picked her hat up off the floor and placed it back on her head. "Thanks, Cora," she said, dropping a kiss on the woman's head.

"Anytime," Cora said, squeezing Mother's hand that rested on her shoulder.

"You want to sketch up some specifics on this holiday?"

Cora loved planning. She loved holidays. In fact, she found that she loved almost everything again. She reveled in her newfound peace, and finally slept well at night, with no nightmares and no crying babies haunting the long, dark hours. Instead of loneliness, she felt that she was part of everything once more, a feeling she was sure was lost with everything else. For the first time in her life, the words of her guru were more than an impossible ideal. They had truth, they had meaning, they had a firm place inside and she embraced them. "I'd be happy to! How formal do you want to go?"

Mother shrugged. "You know our group. I'd say stop short of tuxedos and evening gowns, but fancier than overalls and daisy dukes."

Cora laughed. "So ice sculptures and a red carpet would probably be going too far?"

Mother grinned, feeling worlds better for having vented. "Keep the red carpet. We have to make the paparazzi happy."

Mother gave Cora another kiss on the head and walked out into the den. Striker was hovering. He always hovered when he had something to tell Mother that she wasn't going to be happy to hear. Hell, he had probably stood there waiting for her the whole time, hoping her mood would clear up a bit. She took a deep breath. "What is it now?" she asked.

"I know you had a long day and all..."

"Spit it out."

"We lost a power grid."

"Where?"

"Neighborhood three."

Mother rubbed her head, feeling the tension return. She counted to herself silently until she tamped back the throbbing. Neighborhood three would be needed in just a week. It was crucial to her expansion before the new members arrived. She needed to have her original people set up, spread out, and happy. It was critical that the newcomers find a happy population when they got there. It would set the tone and mood and help them settle in. "What happened?"

Striker shook his head. "Nothing in our town. I think probably something up the highway toward Jackson went down."

"Can we repair it?"

Striker's eyes went wide. "Mother, there's a lot these hands can do, and there's a lot I can figure out as I go, but fucking around with high powered electrical lines isn't something you want to just take a wild stab at."

Mother walked toward the kitchen. She needed coffee. She knew Striker would follow and got herself a cup, then motioned to the pot to offer some to him before sitting at the table and trying to think. She didn't want Striker fried. They needed him. More and more they relied on not only his talents with the technology, but his mind for strategy. "How much of the town is affected? Just that neighborhood?"

Striker shook his head. "No, can't be just that one. But I haven't had time to assess the full extent."

Mother drank her coffee and thought. "Okay. Our immediate need is neighborhood three. What are our power options?"

Striker sat and flipped open the notebook he had. He never came to any kind of meeting with her unprepared anymore. He learned that lesson early on. "We've got generator, alternate electrical hook up, and solar for short term options."

"Generators need fuel, right?"

"Yes."

Mother shook her head. "Then scratch that. We're running low. Next?"

"Alternate electrical hook up." At her quizzical look, he explained. "Connect each powerless house to one with power."

Mother frowned. "I thought the point was not to zap you?"

"It is. It would be external. No harder than hooking up a series of extension cords."

Mother tilted her head, thinking it over. "I don't know if I like the idea of cords running everywhere."

Striker nodded. "I agree. Plus it'll put a strain on the other section of the grid. Double the draw." He shrugged. "That's a crap shoot. Might be fine, might not, and the only way to find out would be to do it. I've crunched some numbers and honestly it could go either way. Could it work? Maybe. Should we try it? My gut says no."

Mother leaned back in her chair and rubbed her chin. "I don't think we should risk the other grids, either. If we have to, absolutely have to, we can just move into two neighborhoods for now. It's not ideal, especially when the others get here."

"We've got one more option. Solar power," Striker said, tapping his notebook. "I've worked it out, and I think two industrial panels on each roof would provide plenty of juice for the average house."

"You have that many?"

Striker grinned. "I found some."

"Enough for the whole town?"

To Mother's surprise, Striker nodded. "Should be. It would take at least one whole day and a fair bit of gas to get there and back, but if we could take two semis down, maybe six people, we could fill the trucks and be in good shape. It would be enough to rig up every house we've got cleaned so far, and a couple dozen more for the future."

Mother was impressed. "You know how to do this?"

Striker shrugged. "Mostly. I've read instructions and it's not really any different than making a solar powered golf cart or robot. The wires are bigger, that's about it."

Mother mulled it over. "How long would it take?"

"Now that I don't know. I can handle the wiring on my own, but they're huge panels. I'd need help, a couple people at least to muscle them into place. I'd need some way to get to the top of the roof and some kind of harness to make sure I didn't fall off. And then there's the time to secure them and wire them in." He shrugged. "I won't know until I do it, but I'm fairly sure that if I can get down and get the panels soon, I can have the thirteen houses in neighborhood three done before the end of the month. Then I could rig up this house, just to make sure we've got juice this winter, and go from there."

It was a solid plan. "I can't spare anyone at the moment," she said. "We should be done harvest in a couple days. After that I'll send Gus and Mack on up to Jackson to tap the DOT's diesel tanks. We haven't hit those yet. Pick your trucks and make sure your math is right on the gas you need. I don't want you breaking down halfway there because you ran out."

Striker drained his coffee and jumped up. He loved it when she liked his ideas. It made life so much easier if she listened and nodded. "Yes ma'am. On it."

"And Striker?" Mother said before he left.

"Yeah?" he asked, turning around.

"That was an excellent presentation."

Striker beamed and felt his face turn red. He gave a little salute, then turned and had to skirt around Eve on his way out the door.

"Watch where you're going!" Eve snapped.

"You're in a fine mood," Mother said.

Eve gave her a bland look before plopping into a chair. Stealth and Wolf came in through the porch door, and a gust of wind blew in behind them.

"Hey, Princess," Stealth said to Mother, taking his coat off and running a hand through his windblown hair. He nodded at Eve. "Brat."

"Don't call me that," Eve snapped.

Stealth put his hands in the air. "Ooh, looks like rough times in Camelot tonight. What's got your panties in a twist this time?"

Eve glared at him, wondering why she ever thought he was handsome or charming. "For your information, I'm on the rag." She turned to Mother. "And we're just about out, by the way, so put them on the list."

Wolf turned away and walked right out of the room without a word.

"We've got to have more in store," Mother said.

Eve shook her head. "I already went out and checked." They'd been using the loft of the barn to hold their paper goods, soaps, and other personal hygiene products.

Mother frowned. "We just got those cases of pads last week."

"Should I let you ladies talk in private?" Stealth asked.

"Why?" said Eve. "It's just something fifty percent of humanity has to deal with every fucking month. If I have to bloat and cramp and bleed, you can hear the word 'pad'. I bet you could even hear the word 'tampon' and live. Or vagina."

Mother couldn't help it and threw her head back and laughed. "Holy shit you're on a tear this time!"

Stealth laughed, too. It seemed to piss Eve off, which was just an added bonus. "Yikes. Way to perpetuate a stereotype, brat!"

Eve glared harder and crossed her arms over her chest. "And why shouldn't I say what's on my mind? Having your period sucks. Having it now, when we're almost out of rags or corks sucks even worse."

"Corks?" Stealth squeaked, on a fresh burst of laughter. "Corks!"

"It's not funny!"

Mother felt tears forming in her eyes as she laughed harder, too. Though she was a woman and certainly shared Eve's frustrations with the issues that grew more and more problematic every month, the way Eve said things was just too much sometimes. "Oh god," she said, wiping her eyes and catching her breath. "Thank you, Eve. I needed that."

Eve fought her own smile. It was rare to see Mother laugh like that, and even though it was at her expense, it was very nice to hear. "I'm glad it amuses you. You only find it funny because you don't start until next week. We need feminine products and we need them now."

Wolf had been coming back into the room, deeming the laughter an indication of a shift in conversation. He walked in right as Eve mentioned feminine products, looked at Mother's face, then turned and left the room again. That was enough for Mother, and she lost it once more. When she could finally truly get herself under control she had Eve make a note in the raiding list.

"How's the toilet paper situation?" she asked.

"We always need more," Eve said.

Mother sighed. While it was fun to joke, the lack of basic supplies was becoming more and more serious. They were having to travel farther each time they needed items, and it was easy to overlook certain things as being essential in the beginning. Pads, tampons, they never crossed her mind until she needed them and they were gone. A town of over forty used a lot of toilet paper. They got through last time they ran out using paper towels, but had some clogged plumbing to deal with afterwards. Now every time she sent people out on raids, she ordered them to fill up any available space with toilet paper. What they really needed was a big warehouse raid. They just needed to find enough gas to pull it off and a secure location to store the precious goods.

Mother snorted at that thought. Whoever would have thought toilet paper and maxi pads would become precious goods?

It wasn't just those items. There were dozens of small products that people just took for granted before. Salt, that was a biggie. They went through salt fast, not just in cooking, but for preserving the fish Gus and his team caught. All seasonings in general were used much quicker than Mother expected. Medicines, too. Not the powerful ones. Those drugs were locked in her basement and used sparingly. But aspirin, acetaminophen, ibuprofen and other over the counter mild pain killers were consumed to fight the aches and pains of their new lives in great amounts. One pill to every person in town was all it took to finish off a whole bottle in only a couple days.

Every day there was some new lack. Every day, the evidence of their situation hammered home just a little deeper. One day, there would be no more maxi pads to find in raids. One day, there would be no more toilet paper. The factories that made them had no one to push the buttons, to mix the chemicals, to make more. One day, they would be out of all of those products and they had less time than Mother thought to figure out how to live without them. If she let herself dwell, the scream would rise fresh.

"We're going to finish harvesting," Mother told the group. "Then we'll raid Jackson for gas and diesel and plan for a huge scavenge before winter. Eve, make a list of all the essentials we'll need, even if you think we might have enough for now. We've got to grab while we can."

"Got it." Eve scribbled in the notebook. "Can we send someone out tomorrow for rags? I wasn't kidding, and I'm not the only one who needs them this week."

"Hey Wolf," Stealth called into the other room. He waited until Wolf was in the doorway. "Go on down to the store and get brat here some tampons."

Wolf stared at the man for a second before crossing the kitchen and walking right out the door. Stealth threw his head back and laughed again when the porch door slammed. "He makes it way too easy."

Mother rolled her eyes. "Is the Council coming tonight?" she asked Eve, changing the subject.

"No. Tomorrow."

Mother nodded. "Good. Then everyone get some sleep. Day off tomorrow, and a final push. I think we can be done by the end of the week."

"It would go faster if everyone helped," Eve said, giving a pointed look towards Stealth.

Stealth gave her his most charming look, noting the spark of interest still in the girl's eyes in spite of her attitude towards him. "Do these look like hands that are meant for hard labor?" He held his hands up and leaned forward. "These hands are the hands of a lover, strong and soft and gentle, designed to caress and bring a woman to the peak of..."

"Stealth," Mother said firmly.

Stealth stared into Eve's eyes and saw the heat of her embarrassment creep up her cheeks. He heard her take a ragged breath, then he finished her off by winking. Eve's eyes turned cold and angry and she pushed back from the table and stormed off in a huff.

"Why do you do that?" Mother asked with a sigh.

"To scare her," Stealth admitted. "She's almost done mooning after me. Piss her off enough and she'll be over it." As cute as Eve was, he had no plans on letting her have a crush. He'd never do anything in that direction. She was too young and had been hurt already. And even though part of him could easily overlook those facts for the fun tumble he knew it would be, it would hurt his Princess, and that was something he vowed to try his best to avoid.

"You shouldn't screw around with her emotions," Mother warned him. "I've been living with her since January, and I can tell you it's a dangerous game you play this time of month."

Stealth leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. "I live for danger."

Wolf came in and looked at Mother. "Are you done with you lady talk?" His stance and tone of voice clearly showed his annoyance.

"Yes, you big baby." Mother waved to the coffee pot. "It's fresh."

"Who made it?"

"Cora," she answered drolly.

Wolf crossed to the pot and poured himself a coffee like it was a lifeline. He chugged the first cup, then looked to Mother for permission for the second. He knew the coffee supply was getting critical, and always asked before he took a second serving. Mother nodded her approval, and he poured another before sitting down.

"People are pissed," Wolf said, getting right to the point. It's why Stealth had come to him after the community dinner well past dark, and why they decided to approach Mother together. If it was for her, they could put their differences aside.

"I know," she admitted.

"It's inevitable, Princess," Stealth said to try and soften the blow.

"Stop calling her that," Wolf said. Stealth had an annoying habit of making up nicknames for people. Mostly, Wolf didn't care. Eve was a brat, so it fit. Striker was a geek, Cora was a fair maiden, Mack was a bubba. Mostly the names were fine. But every time he called Mother "Princess", Wolf wanted to beat the shit out of Stealth.

"Boys," Mother said to them in her best warning tone. She was sick of that particular back and forth. "I know people are pissed," she said, getting the conversation back on track. "I've given them tomorrow off, and Cora's going to announce a holiday. A big one with booze and music."

"And groping in dark corners?" Stealth asked hopefully. Wolf scoffed, Mother laughed.

"If we're lucky."

Stealth waggled his eyebrows. "Meet me in a dark corner, Princess?"

If Mother thought Stealth's flirting was serious, she would have put a stop to it. But he joked with everyone. It was just who Stealth was, his way of disarming people who needed disarming and charming those who needed to be charmed. She did get a little thrill out of the fact that it irritated Wolf so badly, though. "Wait in a dark corner and see what happens," she said lightly.

"Can we get serious here?" Wolf demanded. "They're really pissed. I don't know if a little party will be enough this time."

Stealth got serious and nodded in agreement. "Gus said it's brewing good with a couple of them."

"Real threats this time or just talk?" Mother asked.

"Real threats."

Mother sighed and pulled out the roll of antacids from her pocket that she found herself chewing on more and more. She crunched a couple as she thought, then washed them down with coffee.

"You know coffee is full of acid, right?" Stealth pointed out.

Mother shrugged. "Then one just cancels out the other and I'm no worse than when I started with the added bonus of having the delicious taste of chalk in my mouth and turbo juice running through my veins. Now," she said, tapping the table with her finger for emphasis. "What's the threat?"

"Withdrawal," Wolf said. "Three or four are actually making a plan to request their cases and tents."

Mother swore and sat back, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning while she thought it over. "We've already lost enough," she said, almost to herself. "I started with forty eight less than a year ago, and already lost Fred and Harold."

If Stealth or Wolf felt any guilt over the "loss" of Harold, they didn't show it. They schooled their features to stay firm, hold fast to their secret. Harold had remembered, and he was biding his time. Stealth simply refused to let him have that chance, and Wolf helped him add the body to the bottom of a burn pile. When Mother had noticed Harold was missing from the work detail a few days after, Stealth told her he thought the man just couldn't take it anymore and packed up and left. While Wolf had a suspicion that Mother didn't buy the story, she also hadn't pressed the issue any further.

"Those aren't great numbers," she said.

"Shit happens, Princess. You can't keep everyone safe. They're people. If they want to go, let them."

Wolf knew differently. It wasn't a matter of Newton losing people so much as it was a potential danger in the future. Defectors would have more incentive than anyone else to join up with an enemy or provide damaging information about Newton and its weaknesses. On a personal level, it would also break Mother's heart to see them leave. She would torture herself, wondering what she could have or should have done differently to get her sheep to stay in the flock. Stealth would track them and get rid of them before they presented a problem if he thought it was necessary. Wolf would keep his mouth shut and make excuses if the time came when she noticed Stealth was missing for a few days. That was Stealth's job, his concern. Wolf's job was Mother, and if he could head off watching her put herself through a hell of guilt, he would.

"I know supplies are low, but what if you bribed them?" Wolf suggested.

Mother quirked an eyebrow. "Getting involved with town crap, Wolf?"

He shrugged. "Trying to nip a problem in the bud."

"Bribes are good," Stealth agreed. "People like bribes."

Mother rubbed her chin. "What did you have in mind?"

"Maybe a ration of coffee and a coffee pot for each house. Right now that's only fifteen cans, fifteen pots. We could go out tonight and find that up in Jackson."

It was a damn good idea and Mother grinned at Wolf. "You're turning into a damn fine people person."

Wolf gave her a bland stare in response.

Mother jumped up and put on her coat. "Bribery it is, then! Field trip!" She was excited to go out on a raid, especially one that would be a complete surprise to her town. It wasn't much, in the grand scheme of things. A can of coffee and a coffee pot were very small tokens. But Wolf was right, and it would, hopefully, head off trouble for the time being. It would buy her the couple more days of hard work she needed out of the folks, and then they'd get a huge reward. A festival, a harvest feast. A huge booze-filled blow out and probably some steamy romance in the shadows, as Stealth said. And then they would move into their new houses, and then they would get the ego boost of being role models to the new members. It would work. It had to. She simply did not have any better ideas.

They drove up to Jackson in the moonlight. Mother and Stealth chatted as they held on for dear life. Wolf's driving got more and more daring as he shed the inhibitions of outdated driving laws and old restrictions one by one. He didn't have to follow the speed limits. He didn't have to yield at lights. He didn't have to signal before turning and he certainly didn't have to drive defensively. With no one to pull him over, his only limits were those of the automobile and his own driving skills. And boy, did it feel good to step on the gas.

They reached Jackson in no time and rolled around some long dead traffic towards the far side of town where they hadn't spent much time raiding. Wolf had seen a small grocery store almost outside of town when he'd come through all those months ago, and through it took awhile to find, he was glad to see that his memory was correct as they pulled into the lot. There were two cars parked to the side, covered in all that nature deposited over the year. Wolf nodded to Stealth, and the two hopped out to scope the area. Mother knew by then that any argument was useless, and sat to wait in the car and watch them prowl under the thin, purplish glow from the store's streetlights.

When they deemed the area safe, they motioned for Mother to join them. Wolf had his hand pulled into the sleeve of his leather trench coat and was just about to break open the door when Mother stopped him.

"Oh let me, please? It's been forever since I had a good round of smash therapy."

Wolf stepped back, and Stealth grinned. "Smash therapy, huh? I like it."

Mother gave him a smile and a nod, then pulled her hand into her own sleeve to protect it from broken glass. She pulled back her elbow and closed her eyes before slamming it through the pane. Though it hurt on one level, it felt so damn good on another and she felt something inside relax. "The best therapy there is," she said, grinning at Stealth.

Stealth bowed and pointed to the open store. "An excellent therapy session, my lady. After you."

"Why thank you, gallant sir." Mother bowed her head regally and ignored Wolf's impatient sigh. Inside, she flicked on the light switch. The lights didn't work. "Methinks we shall have to raideth in candle light, my knights."

Wolf rolled his eyes and took out a flashlight. "You two are idiots," he said, pushing past them.

"You wound me," Mother said, pulling her own flashlight out and starting down the aisle. "Here I was trying to add a little class to our excursion..." she stopped speaking as her light fell on a decomposed body. "Oh," she said quietly.

Stealth came up behind her. "Yuck."

Mother frowned and crouched closer, ignoring Stealth's warning. It was odd. There was no mess, no gore. The body looked dry. The hair was fuzzy and long, the nails on the hand looked like claws, and the skin on the face was pulled tight, revealing a toothy grimace.

"We got a stiff," Stealth called to Wolf.

Wolf was there in no time, pulling on Mother's arm. "Back away."

"Why isn't it all rotten?" Mother asked. She pushed at an arm with the toe of her shoe and it was hard. "It's almost like a mummy." It was fascinating. Terrifyingly fascinating and she couldn't look away.

"It's been awhile," Stealth said, pulling the scarf he always wore when they went to new places up over his mouth. "He passed the gory stage and dried up."

"That doesn't mean it's safe to be close," Wolf pointed out. Her curiosity would be the death of them both one of these days, and he tugged again. "Step back. You don't know what you're breathing in."

"It doesn't even really smell in here," Mother said. She stood and stepped back, because she knew Wolf's patience only went so far and he'd move her himself if she didn't heed his warning. Still, she kept her light on the body and looked on in wonder as she pulled the collar of her teeshirt up over her mouth and nose to appease Wolf. "Why doesn't it even smell?"

"Time," said Stealth. "Time cleans up every mess."

"I thought we were here for coffee?" Wolf said. He knew that look in Mother's eye, and if he let her stay, she'd probably work herself up into a week of nightmares. "Come on."

Mother knew they were right, and she reluctantly turned and began scanning the aisles for coffee and any other treats. They got some boxes from the back of the store and filled them with whatever coffee they found. Mother filled another box with maxi pads and toilet paper, then wiped out what little chocolate she could find that wasn't past it's expiry date. Coffee and chocolate for the people, pads and toilet paper for Eve, and her life might just be a little easier the next day. They loaded up their supplies in the back of the jeep then headed for an appliance store they'd raided for the second stove and refrigerator for Mother's farmhouse.

Stealth didn't like how quiet Mother was. He tried to get her back in the joking mood, but it was clear her heart wasn't into it. He couldn't tell if she was sad, or merely contemplative. He always had a little trouble reading her moods when she got that way. He found it both frustrating and refreshing. Most people wore their thoughts on their sleeves. He could tell when Mother was pissed. She made no secrets about that, especially when she was pissed at the people closest to her. And he could tell when she was sad and scared enough to lose it. But sometimes, she just got quiet and kept everything to herself.

They pulled up to the appliance store and went through the routine of checking the parking lot, even though both Wolf and Stealth knew the odds of anyone choosing an appliance store of all places to claim as their new kingdom were very slim. Still, they needed to stay sharp, and there was a protocol to follow. After it was clear, they led Mother inside. The lights still worked and they quickly found all sorts of coffee pots. Though it all barely fit in the jeep, they managed to secure their load with appliance straps from the store, and in less than a half hour, they were on the road back to town.

Mother stayed silent as they unloaded the booty into the main house, leaving it stacked in the den for distribution first thing in the morning. Mother absently dismissed Stealth for the night, then headed down into her basement, her mind still on the body. After her shower, she stood and looked in the mirror. Her hair was getting too long again, and she pulled the scissors from the drawer and trimmed off a few inches. When she was done, she went to Wolf's room and stood in the doorway until he looked up.

"I think I'll go visit Chuck tomorrow."

Wolf made a face. "God, why?"

"I want to make sure he's okay with finding people all dried out like that."

Of all the things Wolf thought Mother was mulling over, that didn't even cross his mind. He thought she had been trying to cope with what she saw, not worrying about Chuck. Wolf shut the book he was reading and crossed his arms. "Why wouldn't he be okay?"

Mother shrugged. "You know how special the shells are to him. I want to make sure he's handling the change. He has gotten pretty quiet these days."

"I'll go with you." While he didn't think Chuck was a threat, he also knew the man was warped. If there was one thing Wolf could be absolutely certain of in life, it was that no one could plan for crazy.

Mother nodded and went to bed, satisfied with her decision. Chuck was special. He and his crew did a job no one should ever have to, and they asked nothing in return. She hadn't paid him much attention recently, and checking in with him one-on-one was probably a good idea, for many reasons.

In the morning, Mother called up few people to deliver the coffee, pots, and chocolate. "Let them know these are gifts for their hard work, with my gratitude," she told Steve.

Steve smiled. "So, you're bribing us?"

Mother gave a shrug. "Is it working?"

Steve's grin widened. "Oh hell yeah." He gathered up the bribes and the few people who'd help make the deliveries and set off. Mother took the pot, coffee, and chocolate she had set aside to deliver personally, and she and Wolf left to make their way to Chuck's house.

Chuck lived with two members of his cleaning crew, Cindy and a man named Carl. They called themselves The Three C's, and even wrote it on the backs of their jackets. They were one unit, they functioned as a single entity, and Mother had to admire their determination. She knocked on their door and waited. Chuck answered in long underwear and boots. Mother had long since given up being surprised by what the man wore.

"My fair Mother! What brings you to our hovel so early on this fine morning?"

Mother held out the coffee pot. "I come bearing gifts, a thank you for all the hard work everyone's been doing in the fields."

"Is that a coffee pot?" Cindy asked, coming to the door behind Chuck.

"And coffee and chocolate," Mother said with a smile.

Chuck rubbed his hands together briskly and stepped aside. "A gift! We get a gift!" he called over his shoulder. "Come in, come in!"

Mother entered and tried not to feel uncomfortable. Chuck was odd, there was no question. And anyone who did the clean out work day in and day out would also be odd. The house they shared was, at best, bizarre. The people of Newton were allowed to keep any nonessentials they found in raids, and use them to decorate, enhance their lives, or trade however they saw fit. The living room the The Three C's house was covered in old paintings, portraits of people no one knew that stared down from every angle with cold, painted eyes. Where there weren't portraits, there were taxidermy specimens. Not deer heads or antlers. Those would have been too normal. There was a stuffed squirrel on the mantle wearing a top hat. There was a beaver by the fire place, and someone had glued a monocle to its face. There was a composite animal placed on a wooden perch that looked to be an amalgamation of an owl body, raven wings, and the head of a skunk. It was utterly Chuck, and utterly creepy.

"I'd like to talk to you for a moment, Chuck," Mother said, hoping she didn't seem as antsy on the outside as she felt on the inside.

Chuck pointed to the couch, and old Victorian affair that looked both out of place and perfectly natural in the bizarre world of The Three C's. Mother sat carefully on the edge.

"Wolfie can sit, too," Chuck said, pointing to an empty chair.

Wolf stood at the door, firmly keeping the classic stance of a top agent. Mother knew he made Chuck nervous, but she also knew there was no way in hell she'd convince Wolf to stand down in such a place. "I think Wolf would prefer to stand. Come. Sit. Chat."

Chuck cast a quick look in Wolf's direction. "Okay," he said eventually. "But it's rude to ignore the rules of other peoples' houses."

Mother patted the seat next to her. "It's okay, Chuck. You know Wolf doesn't mean it personally. He's just rude to everyone."

Chuck sat and turned his attention to Mother. "What is it that troubles the fair maiden today?"

He was giving her the creepy look again, but she did her best to ignore it. "I'm not troubled, just concerned. I'm wondering how the cleaning is going?"

"Aren't we fast enough? I can make them work faster," Chuck said quickly, starting to fidget with agitation and worry. The one thing he had in life was the clean outs. The very thought that she might take them away set him on edge.

Mother swallowed and only hesitated a second before she covered his cold hand with hers to calm him. "Yes. You've been working at an excellent pace and I'm very pleased."

Chuck stopped fidgeting and his mouth spread into a wide, yellow-toothed grin. "I am relieved to hear our services meet your approval! Maybe I won't flog my crew after all." He gave her a wink.

Mother wished she could be more certain that Chuck was joking. She took her hand back and folded it on her lap, fighting the urge to wipe it off on her pants. She truly admired Chuck and the other C's on a deep, honest level. They did what she could not. They cleaned so life could begin. Without them there would be no Newton. She owed them a lot, and she cut them a whole lot of slack. They held a top spot in her town and she aimed to see it always remained that way. However, she still couldn't shake the heebie jeebies Chuck gave her.

"I'm just worried more about you," Mother said carefully.

"You worry about me?" Chuck said in a childlike tone.

"All of you. The three of you. I know how much you value those that you're, uh..."

"Ushering into their final stage," Chuck said with deep reverence in his voice.

_There really is a beauty to what they do and how they do it_ , Mother thought. "Yes. And I know that time is...changing them."

Chuck nodded. "Mummification."

Mother nodded and swallowed again. Boy it was hot in the house. "Exactly. And I don't know your personal religious views, or anything like that. I just wanted to make sure everyone's handling it all okay."

Chuck sat back and looked at Mother. She didn't understand. There was a quick stab of disappointment as he accepted that fact. He'd always thought that they were simpatico, kindreds. Yet now, it was clear that she didn't understand. "It's not about what they look like," he said, with something like sympathy in his voice.

"I know I saw one all dried out and it...moved me," she said, trying to be diplomatic.

"Yes, but you have been away from the calling for too long. We've been watching them change." He tapped his head. "We've been keeping up."

Mother nodded. "Good. I just wanted to make sure."

Chuck felt better. No, she didn't understand. But at least she tried. There was still the Mother he knew and loved. Why, she was checking on them personally, even if she clearly didn't have to. He smiled again. "If it's too much, these changes, I'll be glad to do the burns."

Mother shook her head quickly. "We've had this talk before."

"I thought I'd softened you up," he said, leaning forward. Wolf stiffened at the look he saw in Chuck's face, a move that was not lost on Chuck. "Your guard is a little touchy today."

Mother saw trouble brewing if they stayed. She stood and laughed. "Don't you remember from Walmart that he's not a morning person?" She held her hand out. "I'm glad to see you're all doing well, Chuck."

Chuck stood and grabbed her hand, then bent and kissed it. "You are welcome anytime," he said, giving another stomach-turning smile. "And you just let me know if you want me to do the burns."

Mother pulled her hand away and left with as much decorum as she could muster. They climbed in the golf cart they'd taken down and were well clear of the house before Wolf spoke. "Go ahead and shake out the willies."

It was exactly what Mother wanted to do, but his words made her stubbornly refuse. She clamped her hand on her lap and refuse to admit it had been an uncomfortable visit. "I'm glad they're handling it. You just never know with him what's going to be set him off."

"I guess dead is dead."

It wasn't, at least not for Mother. There were differences in the stages of death and decomposition, and the night before, she'd learned that for herself. She had been scared, not of the dried out shell they found, but of how cold and detached she felt when she looked at it. She had been scared of her reaction, or lack thereof. It made her feel inhuman, and it was that thought that had kept her awake all night in fear that she was turning into a monster.

"Two crises averted so far," Wolf said, trying to break Mother's silence and pull her out of her own head. "Not a bad day's work."

Mother snorted. "It's not even breakfast yet," she said.

"Always good to be ahead of schedule," Wolf said, giving her a rare smile and hoping it did the trick.

Mother sighed as he stopped in front of the house and got out. "All it means is that we get to move things up we were going to put off till tomorrow." She felt better for seeing Chuck. She felt better for giving her people the bribes. As she passed the open barn door, she heard people call their thanks and knew it just might be enough to keep them chugging. The sun was out and the wind had died down. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She wasn't a monster. Not yet. A monster wouldn't care about any of those things. She turned and decided to prove it by eating breakfast with the town.

Wolf hesitated for a second before following. There was something simmering below the surface with Mother, and he couldn't figure it out. She should be her bubbly self after averting a crisis, and she wasn't. Something was going on in her head after she saw that body, and it didn't have anything to do with Chuck like she claimed. Wolf would just have to watch and wait. She'd either tell him or get over it on her own, and no amount of pressing on his part would make the process happen faster. Maybe after the harvest, she could relax. Maybe then she'd get back to humming. He followed her into the barn to take up his perpetual spot by the door, always watching, always waiting, always there.

Chapter 17

Eve twirled in the kitchen for everyone's approval. Mother looked up from the list she studied and smiled. Stealth let out a predatory whistle, and even Striker looked impressed. "Where did you find that?" Mother asked.

"It was in the attic of one of the mansions in the hills. Cindy found it and thought it would fit." Eve twisted back and forth so the full, green skirt of the dress would swish and swirl around her legs. "Like it?"

"It looks fantastic," Mother said, pleased that Eve was so excited for the festival dance. The crops were in, the threshing was finally done, and the grains were bagged and stacked in the storage room upstairs. The hard work was finally finished, and Mother let the people have three days completely off. There were no assigned jobs at all. It took two days of pure rest before she saw smiles instead of frowns. The festival day was the last bit of salve they all needed to forget the slave driving weeks they'd just been through.

The Harvest Festival, as it was being called with capital letters for added importance, was more than just one dance. Cora had come up with a true holiday, complete with a sort of sacred feeling to it. The day began with a beautiful speech delivered by Cora. Though no one had yet to show any intention of starting any type of church services in Newton, Cora's speech was very close to prayer, and people really responded. She praised the peoples' hard work, she pointed out that a year had passed since the plague, and she offered words of release for the people everyone in Newton had lost. Then she turned it around, bringing it away from a ceremony of remembrance of death to one of glory for the new life they had worked hard to create. When Cora was done, people were crying. They were both mourning and celebrating, and even Mother was moved.

After the beautiful speech, they had a celebratory communal breakfast consisting of Newton's first batch of scrambled eggs, made from collecting the eggs of the two dozen chickens they'd managed to round up on raids. They collected the eggs for a couple weeks and had a huge bowl of them to share among the citizens. Served with fish and fresh apple slices, it was a fresh food feast the likes of which none of them had eaten in nearly a year.

With the breakfast done and the townspeople already in fine spirits, Mother had declared the day a time to celebrate, relax, and prepare for the evening ahead. The party itself would be be the huge, fun bash the town expected, but Mother planned to open it with her own speech and a champagne toast. She oversaw the preparations, then retired to her farmhouse to take care of a little business and relax before party time.

Eve beamed and turned to go finish getting ready. Stealth leaned back and sipped a cocktail, a present from Mother for all his work. He looked at Striker and didn't miss the fact that the kid's eyes followed Eve long after she'd left the room. He gave a small chuckle. "What's the story with you two?"

Striker turned guilty eyes towards Stealth. "Me and her?" he squeaked, his voice cracking.

Stealth nodded. "Yep. You could cut the sexual tension between the two of you with a knife."

Mother sighed and closed her notebook, rubbing her tired eyes. She was going to have to face facts and find some kind of reading glasses. Every time she looked at the books, she got a pounding headache. She'd have to take a trip down to the pharmacy next time she was heading into town and see if any of the reading glasses worked for her. Striker sputtered and babbled his denials and Mother wondered for a second if Stealth hadn't just hit on something. "Oh, leave the kid alone. Eve hates his guts."

Instead of being offended, the embarrassed Striker pointed to Mother. "See? Like she said, Eve hates my guts."

Stealth was just giving the kid shit, something he loved to do. It was almost as easy to rile Striker as it was to get Wolf going, and Wolf wasn't in the room. The warm alcohol made tense muscles relax, made his mood turn easy and carefree. "Aw, I'm just having fun."

Striker stood and put his plate in the sink. He shot Stealth a glare then left the kitchen, taking the stairs up to his room two at a time to get away from the frustrating man.

Stealth chuckled into his drink. "One of these days, I'm telling you. They both just have to grow up a little."

"They've had to grow up a lot already," Mother said, admitting to herself there might just be something to Stealth's words. "Let them slow down and be kids for awhile, at least on that front."

Stealth shrugged and took another warm sip. "This is smooth."

"I had a little money saved up. I could afford top shelf." Mother stretched and felt the pop in her back. The days of harvesting had taken their toll on her, too. She glanced at the clock on the wall. She could definitely see that clearly, so yes, just reading glasses. Like a little old lady. She sighed at the thought. "If you want to get ready for the party, you better do it soon. I'm doing the toast at six."

"I can't wait to see you all gussied up, Princess." Stealth gave her that smile that made women swoon.

"Gussied up? Yeah, no." She stood. "A shower and a clean shirt is about as good as it gets. Can't strap a knife, gun, walkie, and ammo to a dress." She put the supply notebook in the draw with the pen and shut it with her hip. "You'll just have to keep dreaming, I suppose." She stuck her tongue out at Stealth and intentionally sashayed down the hall to her door, smiling at his chuckle.

Stealth watched her walk down the hall and chuckled, because he knew that's what she expected. As soon as the door was closed behind her, his smile faded and he slowly sipped his drink. She said it in jest, but she didn't know how close she was to the truth. He'd just about kill to see her all dressed up, her hair done, make up, in high heels. He swallowed hard as the mental image of her in high heels made his stomach tighten. Stealth downed the rest of his drink quickly and stood to leave the house before he let his mind continue going where it didn't belong. There were several attractive women in town, a few of them much more beautiful than Princess, in the strictest sense. They had softer hair, more appealing curves, warmer eyes. But there was just something about Princess that wormed its way into his mind and held his attention.

Stealth couldn't shake that thought later as he stood across from Wolf in the doorway of the barn watching Mother give her speech. There was a light in her eyes that the other women didn't have. There was something obnoxiously attractive about her hair, too, and the fact that she didn't care a bit what it looked like sticking up at all angles like she was electric, like her very essence was enough to electrify everything around her. Stealth knew some of his thoughts were nothing more than the booze talking. Some. The booze was certainly what let him think about it, pick it apart instead of shoving it deep inside. He watched her up in front of everyone, the lights they'd strung twinkling in the glass of champagne she held, and he thought she looked like magic.

After the toast, the music began. Mother circulated among the crowd for a bit, then took up a spot by the door between Wolf and Stealth.

"How was that?" Mother asked.

"Great speech," Stealth said, sipping his own glass of champagne. Wolf said nothing, as they were in front of people, but he, too, gave a small nod.

"Good!" Mother said, taking a sip of champagne herself. She could count the number of alcoholic drinks she'd had in her entire life on one hand. She didn't care for it, didn't like the feeling of being drunk, or the memories the smells brought. But she took a sip, swept up in the party, and instantly regretted it as ghosts she'd long since tried to vanquish reared up inside. "Ew. Here." She handed the glass off to Stealth.

"You trying to liquor me up, Princess? Plan on taking advantage of me?" He lifted an eyebrow and she laughed.

"Yeah. I'm the one that would take advantage in this situation." Mother felt Wolf tense next to her. "I'm going to go see if I can get Cora a sweater. It's chillier in here tonight than I thought." She walked over to Cora and Stealth watched the sway of her body as it moved through the crowd.

"You best think back to a certain conversation we had," Wolf warned so quietly that Stealth almost missed it.

He turned and smiled at the man. "Aw, now, Wolfie. Come on. You haven't made a move yet." He thumped Wolf on the chest, knowing the man wouldn't make a scene and ruin Princess's party. "She's a grown up. Let her decide."

Wolf's jaw clenched and Stealth wondered if Wolf was actually cracking his teeth he was wound so tight. "I'm warning you," Wolf said, before someone approached close enough to hear and he cut off his words. He would not ruin her night.

Stealth gave a shrug, chugged the champagne, and headed off into the crowd. _Fuck it_ , the alcohol said. _Let the Wolf bark_. He watched Mother move through the back door of the barn, no doubt to get Cora that sweater, and thought he had a golden opportunity until Eve rushed to join her. Damn. He stood back and waited. He could be patient. He lived a life of patience.

After awhile, Mother sat herself on her porch. The party spread outside the confines of the barn and into the yard, with people dancing in the cooler air outdoors. Mother sat on her porch, rocking in her chair and watching the event. Wolf had left to take a very drunk Mack home before he got rowdy and did something he'd regret, and Mother was by herself, away from it but part of it, separate but connected in her own way. She was humming to the music and didn't stop, even when Stealth got close.

"Good party, Princess," Stealth said, leaning on the railing of the porch.

"You're drunk," Mother said, smiling in spite of the accusation.

He spread his hands. "A little tipsy is all. Not sloppy."

"I bet you never get sloppy," she said.

"Not when I drink, anyway," he said suggestively. He noticed a flash of something in Mother's eyes and something inside him felt a little more hopeful. "You never met me in the shadows," he said.

Mother swallowed and brushed his comment off. He was drunk and silly. Period. "Maybe you just missed me. I'm sure I lurked several times and never once found..."

Before she could finish speaking, she found herself pulled up and out of her chair, wrapped in Stealth's arms with his lips firmly on hers. He kissed her with a passion that made her heart leap, and for a moment she let it sweep her away. _Forget everything_ , a voice said inside. _Let him take you. Go with it and let him show you what you can't afford to have. Screw it all and just give in_.

And then what?

The thought was like ice water. Give in and then what? Give herself to a man she didn't love, who couldn't love her back the way she needed? Have one fun night and then have to deal with the fallout? Have a fling, risk it all for a quick roll in the sack? She liked Stealth. She respected him. In fact, she was quickly growing to care for him, but not like that. She couldn't give that part of herself to anyone. She just didn't have it in her to give anything else, especially to someone she knew full well was not capable of handling that fragile side of her.

Stealth felt her respond. No matter what happened later, he felt her kiss him back, felt her desire. And then, he felt the very second Mother let her mind get in the way. She started to pull back and he wanted to hold her tighter, to make her ignore her own fears and warnings. _No_ , he wanted to shout as she put her hands on his chest and pressed. _It's not fair_ , his mind whirled when she pulled her face away. She was smiling, a soft, gentle smile that told him that she was about to let him down.

"No," Stealth whispered, not wanting to hear what she was about to say. She said the words anyway, words he knew were true. She explained it to him in a way he simply could not deny, and no matter how much he wished it was different, no matter how much he wanted to rail against the truth, part of him had gone into it knowing that's exactly what he'd get.

"Just one night, Princess," he said when she was finished speaking.

Mother reached up and kissed his cheek. "I don't have one night for myself, never mind anyone else." She stepped back and he felt cold and, for the first time in his life, empty in a way that mattered. She pointed to the barn. "Go on. Get back to the party. Go look in the shadows for who you're supposed to find."

Mother sounded sure. Her words were strong and Stealth had no doubt she meant them. How could someone so young be so damn sure? He sighed heavily. Fuck it. She wanted him to go screw around? Hell, maybe that's what he needed. He flashed her a grin he hoped was convincing. "Last chance."

Mother shook her head and drew in a deep breath. "Go," she said quietly.

Stealth swallowed and gave her a little salute. "Then have a good night in the castle, Princess. I am off on a conquest." He turned and strode away, wondering if he'd ever had his pride so thoroughly crushed before. He walked straight to the drink table and grabbed a bottle. Pulling the cap off, he took a large swig, not caring what he was drinking. He just wanted to dull the pain. He never felt pain and he didn't like the sensation one little bit. He turned and looked at the dancing group. Molly. Mary? _No, Molly_ , he told himself was staring at him from across the room. She always stared at him. She had blond hair and big breasts and wide hips. She was probably in her late twenties, and he bet in the previous life she was a slut. She just had that look about her. _Perfect._ He strode across the room and took what her eyes offered.

Mother sat on the porch uncomfortably for awhile after Stealth left. She knew she hurt him, though he tried to pretend otherwise, and she felt terrible for it. But facts were facts. She didn't have time for anyone. Maybe in another time or place. She sighed heavily, then shivered as the chill of the night settled in.

Wolf pulled up in the golf cart awhile later. He saw Mother on the porch and joined her. "Jesus Mack's a messy drunk." He shook his head and pointed at Mother. "You owe me." He held up a boot and she saw the vomit.

"Yikes. He give you any trouble?"

"Oh, no. Not Mack. He loves me," Wolf said, drawing it out in a drunk sounding voice.

Mother laughed. "Aw, that's sweet. Wolf has a friend."

Wolf shook his head and looked around. The night had turned colder, and people had taken the party back into the barn. He lit a cigarette, glad she was outside not in the middle of all the noise and people. "Why you out here by yourself?"

Mother shrugged. "Just wanted to give them some space. I don't think they can unwind all the way when I'm around."

Wolf nodded in agreement. "Did you ever unwind around your mother?" He didn't mean to pry. He was saying more of a general statement, something to highlight the situation.

"No," she said quietly. "No, I did not."

Wolf smoked in silence, wondering at the tone of Mother's voice. She wasn't excited as she had been. Something happened and the seriousness was back, the heaviness. "Anything happen while I was cleaning Mack's dinner out of my golf cart?"

"Nothing but a partying town."

The answer was too pat. Wolf pulled another drag off his cigarette and saw Stealth walking out from behind the barn, pulling a woman along with him. Stealth's shirt was messy, the woman completely disheveled, an it didn't take a genius to put two and two together. Wolf wanted to turn and look at Mother, to see her reaction and judge whether that was the problem. Had she seen them? Was that why she was upset? Did she want to be the woman Stealth dragged behind the barn? Wolf wanted to look so badly, but knew if he did there was a chance he couldn't live with what he saw in her face. He couldn't live if he saw longing, and he would take Stealth down with him. He slowly smoked his cigarette and forced himself to keep staring ahead, made himself hold fast.

Stealth looked up at the porch and gave Mother a salute. It was all Wolf could do not the fly across the barnyard and wipe that smug look off the man's face once and for all. His hand shook with anger and every muscle in his body tensed.

"Looks like he found what he was looking for," Mother said, surprising Wolf. Wolf didn't trust himself to speak and just gave a nod. Mother didn't miss the fact that Wolf was sprung tight enough to snap. Wolf had no idea how much he radiated anger when he felt it, like a physical force pushing off him, warning everyone in the area to steer clear or suffer the consequences. She couldn't see his face, but she didn't have to.

"Good," she said carefully, looking to diffuse Wolf's anger before it reached a critical point. "Maybe now he'll stop sniffing around the house and focus on his work."

Wolf hated the relief he suddenly felt when he heard the sincerity in Mother's voice. It calmed one beast and fueled another, and he much preferred the angry, snarling beast. He was familiar with that animal. He was comfortable with that monster. He was used to dealing with that and he wanted to be angry. He wanted to get angry and stay angry until he could find something to smash to hell and then feel better. He didn't want the other beast fueled. There would be no reprieve for that internal torture.

Mother didn't feel like she made anything better. Stealth was hurt. Wolf was still ready to fly off the handle. While her townspeople partied and puked and screwed, she just felt tired and cold and alone. "I'm going to bed. Can you keep an eye on everyone?" At Wolf's curt nod, she rose. "Make sure everything wraps up before fists fly." She felt like she should say something else, but couldn't think of what. Maybe Wolf would get drunk. That did worlds of good for him last time. She shook her head and went inside, closing the door quietly behind her and wishing the day had ended better.

Wolf sat on the porch and smoked until his lungs burned in the cold autumn air. He watched people meander home, one by one, until it was around two in the morning and only the very drunkest stragglers had to be told it was time to wrap up. He walked into the barn, flicked on the main lights, and, while people blinked their drunk, bleary eyes against the offending brightness, made a signal to Striker to let him know it was time to stop playing music.

Stealth sat in the corner, slugging back another drink. He knew Wolf wouldn't make the public announcement, so he did. "Party's over. You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." He pushed up and tapped a guy slumped over the next table on the shoulder. "Come on, bud. Wrap it up." The man snorted and raised his head. Stealth pulled him up and shoved him towards the door. He flailed his hands, but kept balance, and staggered off into the night.

Striker walked over to Wolf. "Thanks. It was getting a little late."

"Where's Eve?" Wolf demanded. Mother would ask.

Striker shrugged, and Stealth knew he didn't feel as blase as he wanted them to believe. "She left with someone."

The muscle in Wolf's jaw tightened. "Calm down, big dog. She's a big girl," Stealth said, ignoring the wave of hatred he felt coming off the agent's body. "Head on in, Striker. You did good with the music tonight." Striker trotted off and the only people in the barn were Wolf, Stealth, and their small herd of cows with Phil.

"Missed you at the shindig, Wolfie."

Wolf felt the snap inside. He physically felt the spring he kept wound tight push one notch too far. He clenched his fist and turned and swung. If Stealth hadn't had a few too many, he might have been able to duck. As it was, he was distracted and didn't see it coming. For the first time in too many years to count, Stealth actually felt the blinding explosion of a well-placed punch, and he reeled back, his addled mind scrambling to figure out what happened.

Once he began, Wolf could not stop. Something in him screamed to back off. Something warned him that there would be hell to pay. He just didn't care. The fight was a lot of years in the making, and he simply could not stop himself from going at Stealth full force.

After the second blow, the years of training kicked in and even though he was drunk, Stealth's body automatically began to fight back. "Wolf! What the fuck is wrong with you?" he bellowed, as he ducked and then landed his own punch. He pulled his fist back quickly, hopping back into a fighter's stance, waiting for the opportunity to strike again.

Wolf shook off the punch and smiled, glad that the pain provided a focus. "What's wrong with me? That's rich. You're the one flaunting your conquests in her face!" He ducked as Stealth's hand shot in, and Wolf's fist slammed into Stealth's jaw. Stealth pulled his knee up quickly and brought his hands down at the same time, bashing Wolf's head forward and driving the knee right into Wolf's nose. Both men broke apart and reeled from their wounds.

Stealth spat blood and felt the slice his own teeth made in his tongue. "That's what this is about?"

Wolf felt the blood trickle down the back of his throat and the sharp throb spread across the bridge of his nose. It wasn't the first time his nose was broken, and he doubted it would be the last. "She was having a good time and then I left," he said between heaving breaths.

Stealth was not about to tell Wolf what happened. He wouldn't let the agent have yet another piece of dirt to dangle over his head. "So it's my fault?"

Wolf knew it was. He just knew it. He knew there was more to the story because every bit of his opponent looked guilty. "You son of a..." He charged. He met a wall. He slammed up against Stealth and the two beat the shit out of each other, landing blow after blow until they couldn't take it anymore. They broke apart and sat heavily in chairs, panting and spitting blood and feeling generally spent.

Stealth grabbed a bottle of whiskey and took a long swig, wincing from the stinging burn he felt as it slipped over his split tongue. "Son of a bitch," he said, spitting out the thinned blood. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked, sighing heavily and passing over the whiskey. "Come on," he said, wiggling the bottle. "Take a fucking pull. For once stop being the god damn agent and just take a drink."

Wolf took the bottle and downed a long swig of the scorching liquid. The throbbing in his nose shot through him. Tenderly he touched it, and winced when he realized it sat at a crooked angle. He took a deep, bracing breath, pinched just under the break in the bridge, and gave a quick tug and twist. There was a cracking pop, and he slammed his fist on the table against the pain. He gulped a huge mouthful of whiskey and when he could finally breathe, he opened his eyes and let out a shuddery breath. Stealth was just staring at him. Wolf took one more sip, then handed the bottle back.

Stealth shook his head and took the whiskey. "You are one tough bastard, Wolf, I'll give you that." He drank, then dumped some of the alcohol over his bleeding knuckles. "You got it all out of your system?"

"Leave her alone," Wolf said. He no longer wanted to hit anyone. The beast was calm. Instead of heat, he felt a cold layer of steel inside and was glad.

Still smarting from the rejection earlier, Stealth wasn't ready to simply just agree. "Well same to you, buddy."

Wolf snorted and schooled himself from reacting to the pain that shot through his face. "I have never acted in anything but a professional manner..."

"Cut the shit," Stealth said bitterly. "You know what I mean."

Wolf snatched the bottle and took another drink. Yes, he did. But he'd be god damned if he let Stealth have the satisfaction of being right. "I keep my distance," he said eventually. "I always have and I always will."

"You don't want to," Stealth said, realizing for the first time just how right he was.

"But I do." Wolf looked Stealth directly in the eyes and said the words with all the conviction he felt. He did keep his distance, on the one level he didn't want to. He had and he would continue to do so, because in his mind, it kept her safe. "You have worked on the wrong side too much for my liking, but that doesn't mean I doubt your devotion to the job. And you know that she is the job." Wolf pointed toward the house. "And what happens when you take the job too personal?"

Stealth sighed. It was a standard training point, something hammered into their heads over and over until they could recite it in their sleep. "People die."

"Damn straight."

Stealth snorted. "So you just randomly attacked me for no reason tonight because you don't take the job to heart, is that what you want me to believe?"

"I beat the shit out of you because you annoy me," Wolf said, refusing to admit out loud how true Stealth's words were.

Stealth sat back and studied Wolf. The man was hurting. Good. Served him right. Wolf deserved to wallow in the same pit of misery he was in. "I kissed her," he admitted. He watched the flames rise in Wolf's look again. "Calm down," Stealth said quietly. "She wouldn't have it." He watched Wolf's fist slowly lower and wondered idly if Wolf even knew he was about to strike again. Stealth picked up the whiskey and drained the rest of the bottle, then laughed. "Aren't we a pair? Sitting here fighting over a woman who doesn't want us."

"She deserves better anyway," Wolf said, rolling the knowledge over and over in his head. She rejected Stealth. He shouldn't care, he hated that he did. Just knowing it, though, eased something inside. He couldn't have her. But she wouldn't have Stealth, either. If she ever did fall for someone, it wouldn't be Stealth. He could live with that.

"That she does," Stealth agreed, feeling a stab of pain in his chest. He went to drink out of the bottle again and found it empty. "Someone drank all our booze, dog."

Wolf looked around and found another bottle. He cracked it open and sat back down, rubbing his sore jaw. "Jesus you've got a good swing."

Stealth flexed. "Don't mess with the guns."

Wolf snorted in disgust. "Yeah, well, your face doesn't look the best either, pretty boy."

Stealth could feel the blood drying under his eye and knew Wolf was right. "All the ladies like a few scars."

Wolf hiccuped and felt the numbing relief of the whiskey start to take away all the pain. That's what he needed. He needed one night's reprieve from the pain. He closed his eyes and let his body relax and welcomed the haze. He knew that he'd be in a world of hurt in the morning, and he didn't even want to think of what she'd say when she saw them both. They'd have to come up with a story. Later. For now, he just craved the numb. He took another long pull and let his mind and body go blank.

The next morning, Mother stood over her sad, sorry people and wondered if she'd let the celebration go too far. Eve was hungover, perhaps for the first time in her life. She sat with her head down on the kitchen table, still in her green party dress, with make up smeared all over her face. Striker wasn't hungover, but he was pissed. Mother could feel his anger, an unusual emotion to see in the normally easy going boy. Stealth sat with his sun glasses on, his face looking puffy and bruised, and Mother wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep. Wolf sat on his normal seat on top of the counter and definitely had a broken nose. Both eyes were an angry purple and his lip was split. It didn't take a genius to figure out he and Stealth had fought, and she sat and weighed her options. She could chew them out, but would it do any good? They were both hungover, maybe even still drunk if Stealth's slight swaying was any indication. Mother looked at the clock and sighed heavily. Any minute people would be knocking on the door to carry out breakfast, and the sorry group was useless.

"That's it," she said, louder than any of them would have liked. "Eve, bed. Stealth, go home. Wolf, go sleep it off. Striker, you drunk?"

"No," he said in a sullen voice.

"Good. Then lose the bad attitude and go get me four service cans of peaches and two tubs of oats."

"Princesses are supposed to talk quietly," Stealth said.

"Then go find a princess."

Everyone left but Wolf. "I swear to all that's holy if you don't get your drunk ass up and drag your sorry self to bed, I'll show you just how far from a princess I am," Mother threatened him in a cold voice.

"I'm not the one that thinks you're a princess," he pointed out, frowning when his words came out slurred. "That's the douche bag."

"Go."

Wolf sighed and hopped down, catching himself when his legs felt wobbly. "Don't go being stupid and dangerous today," he said.

Mother scoffed. Like he had anything to say about it! She turned and started to get the pans out to make oatmeal. When Striker returned, she gave him instructions in a clipped tone, and the two silently prepared the meal. No one came knocking, and after awhile, Mother and Striker gathered the platters themselves and headed to the barn. No one was there.

"Is _everyone_ hungover?" Mother asked, throwing her hands in the air.

"I'm not," Striker replied.

"Great. That's two of us." She looked around the trashed barn and sighed. "Well, do you want to start cleaning or do you want to muck out stalls?"

Striker chose cleaning, and went to get some large trash bags from the store. Mother set about mucking the stalls. They had three cows and Phil, and one of the cows was clearly pregnant. She cleaned the stalls of the cows and fed them first, wanting to spend a little more time with Phil. She missed him. She never got to just talk to him anymore and was kind of glad her people were horribly irresponsible. She entered his stall and scratched his forehead between his horns. They'd gotten very big. Phil had gotten very big, and the realization was almost sad. "You're not my baby anymore," she said, thumping his neck as he liked. Phil nudged her with his nose, then continued to munch the hay she fed him.

After she mucked, Mother gave Striker a hand. The town had trashed the place. "Well, at least it was a good party." She swiped her arm across a table top, sending the empty and half-empty cups, plates, and crumpled napkins into the trash bag Striker held open. By the time they had gotten the majority of the place cleaned up, people began to straggle in for breakfast.

"Breakfast is over there. Eat on the other side and let us clean up," Mother told them. The others that came in later in groups and clusters followed suit, and by the time Mother and Striker had cleaned and were finishing wrapping the cords from the sound system, it looked like just about everyone was there. They ate in silence, then moved out of the barn like zombies to return to their houses and enjoy a day of recovery. Mother helped Striker pack the sound system safely away in the loft of the barn, then dismissed him.

"When can I have that group to raid for solar panels?" Striker asked.

Mother laughed. "Well I doubt they'd be any use today. How about we regroup tomorrow morning?"

Striker nodded. "Yeah, I've got a program I wanted to tweak today anyway."

Mother watched him go, then hauled the trash bags to the yard. Chuck would grab them after dinner and add them to the dump truck where ever it was. Mother looked down the road toward the silent town, wondering what she was going to do with her day. It felt kind of good to have nowhere to be and nothing to do. She went inside to turn on some music and go through her notebooks to get all caught up on the backlog of work she had to shuffle aside while dealing with the harvest.

After several long hours, and a brutal headache, Mother stood and went to the cupboard to get some aspirin. She popped a few, then made up her mind to stop being stubborn and get some reading glasses. She jotted a quick note for Wolf or whoever would get up first that afternoon and took the golf cart down the hill into town.

Mother took her time at the pharmacy, trying on different pairs of reading glasses until she found the right magnification, then she looked around for a pair she liked. She grabbed a few of them, tucked them in her pockets, and headed back out. She was just passing through the neighborhood when she saw Steve running down the hill.

"I tried calling you," he said, doubling over and panting. He pointed up the hill. "Denise."

With a sinking feeling, Mother ordered him into the golf cart and as they crested the hill, she wondered again just why it was that things could turn so quickly from peaceful calm to utter chaos. She took a deep breath and ran in the house behind Steve, wishing she could roll back the clock and get five more minutes of peace.

Chapter 18

Mother stood shaking, her body and nerves strung out. Denise lay on the cot that was used as a hospital bed, panting and impossibly pale. In stark contrast, the blood she'd been losing for hours soaked through yet another set of sheets and left dark red hand prints on her milk-white legs. She'd gone into labor early, and though Mother was trying to keep her calm, things weren't looking good.

Mother took a swig of water, trying to buy herself some time. Denise was whimpering softly between contractions and Mother knew she had only a second to compose herself. She put the bottle down and crossed back to the bed, then ran the wet cloth over Denise's face.

"I think we need to take the baby," she said to the woman.

Denise's face crumpled. "No."

Mother hushed her and smoothed the cloth over her face again. "You're getting very weak." She didn't mention the blood. So far, Denise was too far gone to notice, and she and Cora had done their best to keep up with clean sheets and block Denise's view. Denise was tired, in pain, and scared, but so far they'd managed to keep her calm. She couldn't lose it. None of them could lose it.

Cora had mentioned they should attempt a cesarean over an hour before, and though Mother hoped for more time, there simply wasn't any. She had followed Cora's instructions and stuck her hand up inside Denise, trying to feel for a head. She felt nothing. There was no progress. Denise's body had opened, but no baby was coming out. The problem was deep inside, and Mother wondered if they'd be able to save either of them.

She swallowed hard. Denise probably wouldn't make it. The blood loss was too great, and the woman was alarmingly cool to the touch. "I'm going to let Steve come in for a minute," Mother said.

Denise whispered, "No."

Mother hushed her and signaled for Wolf to get Steve. "Yes," she said, joining Denise at the bed again. "Let him come in and give you a kiss and a pep talk, then you'll feel like you can do this."

The door opened and a pale Steve entered. He crossed to Denise and picked up her hand. "You can do this, baby."

Mother turned away and tuned it out. Cora sniffed, and Mother leaned over her chair. "Go."

Cora didn't argue. She couldn't. If she stayed, she'd lose it. If she stayed, she'd just be another one that Mother had to take care of, and Mother had her hands full enough.

"Go with Cora, Steve," Mother said with more authority than she felt.

Steve let out a small little sob and followed Cora out of the room.

Wolf shut the door and silently gathered the supplies Mother would need as Mother prepared a sedative for Denise. Denise tensed and screamed, another useless contraction wrenching through her body. Mother's hand shook, but she clenched her jaw and concentrated on the task at hand. She filled the syringe, then returned to Denise's side. "I'm going to give you something for the pain."

"No," said Denise, her voice thin and wispy.

Mother inserted the needle and pressed the plunger. "When you wake up, you'll be able to hold your beautiful baby."

Denise whimpered and squeezed her eyes closed. "Do you promise?"

"Yes," Mother said, feeling the metallic, bitter taste of the lie close up her throat. She pulled the needle out and sat by Denise, holding her hand and waiting for the medication to kick in. "Now, you just trust me. I kept Cora alive, didn't I?"

"Yes," Denise breathed.

"And that was a whole leg! This is just one little baby, that's all." The words were inane to her ears, just random things to try and get Denise to settle and calm.

"I love this baby," Denise said, almost too quiet to be heard, and her eyelids began to droop. "Love her for me."

Mother felt the scream well up inside. Wolf placed his hand on her shoulder to bring her back to earth. She looked up at him.

"You got this," he said, as he always did.

Mother nodded and swallowed the scream, then stood and scrubbed up in the sink Mack installed in their hopelessly inadequate clinic. She dried her hands off, then stuck them in gloves. Wolf handed her a bottle of rubbing alcohol, then stepped back to let her work. She'd let him know when she needed something.

Mother pulled back the covers and dumped the alcohol over Denise's belly. She picked up a scalpel and took a deep breath, struggling to remember the instructions Cora had read to her out of the physician's manual.

"Do you want me to get the book?" Wolf asked.

Mother closed her eyes and shook her head. _Breathe_. She just had to breathe. _Place the scalpel on the skin, just below the navel,_ her mind told her. She opened her eyes and began to mechanically follow the list of instructions in her head. At some point, her mind registered the fact that Denise's chest went still. Denise slipped away, and a new determination to save the baby ripped through, fueled Mother on. Her hands stopped shaking and her movements became swift and sure. _Cut, pull away, cut some more being careful not to cut the baby._ Once through the abdominal wall, she felt a wriggling under her hand.

"It's moving!" Mother shouted, her voice loud and high and close to terror. She cut open the amniotic sac and threw the scalpel onto the tray. She put her hands in the cavity, trying to get a firm hold on the wriggly mass, and then held her breath and pulled.

Wolf rarely knew true terror. He had long since figured out how to keep that part of his psyche shut down. There was no room in life for fear, and whatever was going to happen happened. Accept and move on. But when Mother stood stock still, simply staring at the squirming, malformed mass, the look on her face shot a bolt of fear straight through him. He opened the door quickly, ignoring Steve and Cora and Eve and bellowed for Stealth. He needed back up. _She_ needed back up.

Mother looked at the baby. It wasn't right. It was misshapen to the point of almost being inhuman, with stubs for limbs, a large, bulbous head, and slits instead of eyes. But it wasn't those things that made her freeze. It was the noise. The thing made a high pitched wheezing cry that sent a shiver down her spine. It had to be a thing. It certainly wasn't a baby.

Stealth came running to the door and skidded to a stop as he took in the scene before him. "Holy fuck."

"Help her," Wolf demanded. But Stealth stood frozen, a fist to his mouth and his eyes just as panicked. "Do something!"

"What the hell is that thing?"

Some help he was! Wolf shoved Stealth back out the door, knowing the man was useless. There would be no help, not even from the great and mighty Stealth. "Break the news," Wolf barked, pointing to Steve who paced in the den. If Stealth couldn't help with Mother and the baby, he could at least tell the anxious father and buy them some time. "Tell them it was tragic but there's nothing that could be done."

Stealth stood and stared at Mother holding the horrible thing. Wolf thumped his chest, and he started, turning toward the agent.

"Did you hear me?"

Stealth swallowed and nodded. "I'm on it."

Wolf closed the door, almost slamming it in Stealth's face. He'd deal with the man later. For now, he had a far more important problem to deal with. He took a breath and turned back to Mother.

"We need to decide what to do," he said quietly, taking a careful step forward.

The thing squirmed and wailed in Mother's hands. "No," she whispered. "This isn't right. It's supposed to be a baby. It's not a baby, Wolf." Tears filled her eyes and she blinked them away. She felt the scream right at the top of her chest, right there, pressing, pushing, begging to finally come out. She let out a hard, painful sob and her whole body began to shake. The baby she held stopped wheezing and started to gasp, finding it hard to pull in air.

"We can't. We can't save it." She turned her panicked eyes to Wolf. "We can't save it." Even if they could, even if it lived, then what? What kind of a life would it have? What would it do to the rest of the people if they saw it? How could anyone try for a baby again once they saw what this after world produced?

Mother choked on another sob and brought the thing to her chest. It was rasping very slowly, it's wriggling becoming weaker. She cradled it to her and, with shaky breath, hushed it. "Shh, shh, shh. It's okay," she said, more to herself than the pitiful creature. She pulled it close and held on, rocking back and forth and slowly pressing it more firmly to her breast until finally the wheezing rasp stopped and the baby hung as limp as its mother.

Her whole body shook as she pulled the baby from her and studied its face. _What face? There's not even a face_.

Mother heard Wolf make a noise. "Go find Steve," she instructed in a detached voice. "Tell him that he can come in and say goodbye when we're ready..." her voice cracked and she was sure the scream was about to come out. She closed her eyes tight until she felt it was buried again. "Tell him he can say goodbye and then we'll have the funeral at the pile tonight."

Wolf didn't know if Mother could handle being alone for even a few minutes. He didn't want to leave. He wished Stealth actually had some balls and stuck around. Someone needed to stay. Someone needed to see her through this, but he didn't think it was wise to argue. She was closer to the edge than he'd ever seen and he planned to do whatever she wanted. He slipped out and ran to find the rest.

Mother placed the baby back inside Denise's belly. She looked at her hands and marveled at the odd sensations. It was like she was watching a movie, like it was all happening to someone else. She got the baby back in place and put a few large stitches in the belly to hold it closed. As if in a dream, she moved around the room, cleaning up the bloody sheets and getting a fresh gown to dress Denise. She washed the woman's face lovingly, and made sure Denise looked perfect before tucking a blanket up over her. She washed her own hands and took a deep breath, then opened the door to let Steve come say his good-byes.

Mother stayed in the dream-like state while Steve cried over Denise. She let Eve and Cora provide Steve with comfort while she herself stood in the back of the room with Wolf, numb. After Steve had stopped his wailing, she told him they'd have to say their goodbyes tonight and offered him a funeral beside the burn pit. Steve said he couldn't handle being there for the funeral, and in no time, Eve was ushering him home and assuring him she'd stay until he felt like he'd be okay.

Wolf helped Stealth wrap the body and load it into the jeep. Mother noticed it was full dark and idly wondered just how long they'd been in there, in that room of terror, as they drove up to the burn pit. Stealth helped Wolf lay Denise out. He asked if Mother wanted to say a few words but she just stared at the lump in the middle of the sheet.

I couldn't save it.

Stealth looked to Wolf, who shook his head. There was nothing either of them could do to help Mother, no matter how badly they wished they could. They poured the gas on the body and lit the sheet on fire. Wolf walked to Mother and stood by her side as always, staring into the night and wishing there was something he could do to take away her pain.

Stealth knew he dropped the ball. In clutch time, he ran like a coward. He made a vow to himself that he'd spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her, and silently watched as Denise and the baby left the earth.

When it was time to leave, Mother still felt like she was in a haze. She looked at the pile of smoldering ash and wanted to hurt. She wanted to ache. She wanted to feel anguish or pain or...something. She walked numbly to the jeep and let Wolf start home. They came off the hill and turned onto the road just as the sun broke over the far fields. The light stabbed her tired eyes and she looked down to shield them. It was then that Mother finally noticed that her shirt was covered in blood. It was covered in blood where the baby was, where the baby died.

_Where I killed it_.

The scream would not be stopped. It burst from her as she stared in horror at the evidence of the brutal night. Wolf swore and pulled the jeep to the side of the road.

"What do we do?" Stealth asked over Mother's shouting.

Wolf didn't know. "Mother," he said firmly, taking her arms in his hands. He gave her a little shake. "Come on. Come back to us."

Mother looked up from her shirt and stopped screaming. "What did I do, Wolf?"

Wolf's heart broke for her. It felt like a thousand shards of glass shattered in his chest. "You didn't do anything."

"I...I didn't save it..."

Wolf gave her another small shake. "There was nothing you could do," he insisted. "I was there. There was nothing you could do."

"I killed it," she whispered, the admission ripping from her.

Stealth clenched his jaw and looked away, his chest tight. "Jesus," he whispered.

"No!" Wolf said firmly.

Mother pulled away. She had to go. She had to get out. She had to run and she had to leave and...she struggled with the door handle and flung it open, heedless of Wolf's words. She stumbled out and began walking through the field. She had to go. She had to get away.

Stealth jumped to run after her. "Careful," Wolf warned, knowing she needed some space.

"You're just going to let her go?"

Wolf frowned at him and shook his head. _Idiot._ "Of course not. But let her have a little space." They waited a minute before following. She was still in their sight, and even if she got too far ahead, she left a clear track in the grass through the early morning frost.

Mother pushed through the cold grass, blindly pressing forward until she stumbled and fell. She sobbed, then dragged herself up again and continued. She didn't know where she was going. She just had to go. She entered the stand of trees on the far side of the field and heard a little brook. Looking down at her shaky hands, she knew she had to get the blood off and dropped to her knees. The water was freezing, but she put her hands in and began to scrub with the sand from the bottom. She just needed to get the blood off, then she could think.

Wolf and Stealth neared the brook and slowed. She was sobbing, her body heaving with the pain they couldn't even imagine. "What happened in there?" Stealth whispered.

"She did what she had to do." Wolf left Stealth and slowly walked forward. "You okay?" he said softly.

Mother stopped scrubbing. Her hands were raw and purple from the cold and still she could see and feel the blood there. "It won't come off," she said, trying to explain, before she just couldn't take it anymore and collapsed in a heap on the ground, wishing the cold dirt would just open up and take her.

Without a word, Wolf stepped forward and scooped her up. She was sobbing and her body was shaking, her clothes soaking wet from her self-imposed penance in the icy river. He strode passed Stealth and climbed in the back seat, holding her on his lap and waiting for Stealth to take them home.

When they got back to the house, Wolf left Stealth to explain to Eve and Cora, and brought Mother downstairs. He set her down on the toilet, then turned the shower water on. She no longer cried. Instead, she sat like a zombie, her eyes distant and dead, and Wolf almost wished for the screaming again. He undressed her, and held her under the warm water until her skin no longer had that frightening bluish tint. He dried her carefully, as if she would break, which he thought was a distinct possibility just then, and put her in a clean tee shirt. He placed her in her bed, pulled the covers up, and sat on the floor next to her bed in case she needed him, terrified that she may have been pushed too far.

At some point, his vigil was interrupted by a soft knock on the bedroom door. Wolf jumped up and pulled the door open quickly, not wanting to wake Mother. Stealth stood on the other side. "What?" Wolf hissed.

"She okay?"

Wolf scoffed. "Now you care?"

Stealth felt the embarrassment burn his cheeks. "I'm sorry," he said, the unfamiliar words tasting like lead in his mouth.

"You're dammed right you are."

Stealth looked away and cleared his throat. He knew it would be a very long time before either of them forgot the fact that he choked in crunch time. "Yeah, well. She need anything?"

Wolf's jaw clenched tight as he forced his anger down. "I'll let Eve know if she does," he said pointedly before closing the door in Stealth's face.

"Don't be mad at him," Mother said quietly.

Wolf spun around. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"I wasn't sleeping." Mother swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears back. "I don't think I'll ever get that crying out of my head."

Wolf wasn't really sure what to say or do. He stood awkwardly, putting his hands in his pockets and wishing he was better at giving comfort. He had the fleeting thought to call Stealth back in. He knew the man would be able to offer Mother strong arms and a shoulder to cry on. _No._ Wolf took a deep breath. "No, I don't suppose you will."

"It hurts so bad, Wolf," she whispered. Wolf wished he could pull her up to him and never let go. She turned her head and looked at him. "Was there anything I could do?"

"No," Wolf said firmly. "I was there. That thing was dying."

"It was a baby." She felt a fresh wave of tears build. "That thing was a baby. Our first here. And I failed."

"No."

Wolf could say whatever he wanted. In Mother's mind, she knew the truth. She failed. She failed to keep Denise alive. She failed to keep the baby, such as it was, alive. Hell, she didn't know if she actually killed it or if she just felt like she did because she didn't know what to do for the poor thing. Her failure went beyond that night, though. It was deeper. Their first baby, and she failed to make sure it grew right. Maybe it was a fluke. Maybe it was nature. Maybe it was the result of the plague, what it did to the survivors. But maybe it wasn't. Maybe it was questionable nutrition. Maybe it was the lack of vitamins that Cora mentioned. Maybe it was the work and the long hours and the life. Maybe it just wasn't good enough. Maybe the life she could provide people simply wasn't good enough.

_That crying_.

Mother squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the press of the scream to bubble up inside. It didn't, and that unnerved her further. She opened her eyes and sat up, needing to move, to run away from the ghosts. "What time is it?"

Wolf looked at his watch. "About four."

Mother got up and took some clean clothes out of her dresser. "I need to make a statement at dinner."

Wolf didn't know if she could handle it, but he agreed she had to try. How many times had he seen those he protected have to do the same thing in a crisis? Shit happened, they picked themselves up and faked it in front of the crowd, because if they didn't the fear and confusion would turn to anger and they'd have a mob on their hands. So Wolf understood. He knew she had to try. He would just make sure he was there in case she needed him. He left the room and got her boots. They were still wet and he offered to find Eve to hunt up some dry ones.

Mother took the wet boots and put them on. Her mind was made up and she didn't want to sit and wait, didn't want to give the dark room time to let the ghosts back in or the scream come out again. She laced the boots, grabbed a jacket, and headed upstairs to face her people. They'd have questions, and she'd have to give answers. That was all there was to it. She took one deep breath before entering the kitchen, then another.

Eve and Striker stood at the stoves making some sort of stew whose smell turned Mother's stomach, and Cora sat at the table opening jars of pickled green onions they'd just put up a couple weeks before. Everyone was talking quietly, but friendly. Striker and Eve were not sniping at each other, and Mother said a silent thanks for that. She could not have handled bickering. Not right then. She crossed to the coffee pot and poured herself a cup as the chatter in the room petered out.

Mother sat at the table and sipped her coffee, waiting for someone to break the ice. When everyone looked uncomfortably away, she sighed heavily. "For god's sake, just ask already."

Cora gave her a kind smile, and Mother felt a tug of emotion. She would not cry again. She wouldn't. "We don't need to ask," Cora said gently. "We know what happened."

_No they don't_ , Mother's mind thought bitterly. _They left me alone. None of them know. None but Wolf._ She placed her coffee cup down and reached over to pop open a jar and help Cora arrange the pickled green onions on the platter.

"How is Steve holding up?" she asked, hating the silence in the room.

"He's okay," Eve said.

Mother snorted. _Yeah, right. Sure he is_. "And the rest of the town? How did they take the news?"

"Don't worry about them," Cora rushed to say. "They'll be just fine. It was a shock, of course, but if there's one thing we all know how to deal with, it's death."

The truth of the words hit Mother like a punch to the gut. Of course they dealt with death. That's all their lives had been focused on for a year! But they shouldn't have to. She promised them that they _wouldn't_ have to. Feeling the anger and bitterness bubbling inside, Mother shoved the jar of onions at Cora and had to get out. She wasn't mad at them, and she didn't want to bite their heads off. They were just as frazzled and scared as she was.

On the porch, she leaned against the railing and took a deep breath of the cold, autumn air. It was raining, and she was glad. It matched her mood. She took another deep breath and willed her demons to calm. The feeling of the cold wood of the porch railing pressing firmly into her hip started to ground her, made her feet feel solid. She took another deep breath and let it out slowly. The swirling anger was ebbing and she opened her eyes to watch the raindrops fall on her farm.

"Mother?"

The voice scared the wits out of Mother and she jumped and whirled, her hand automatically going to the knife on her belt. Steve had been sitting on a chair at the other end of the porch. He stood crumpling the hunting cap he was fond of wearing between his hands, but let it go when he saw her reach for her weapon. Mother quickly pulled her hand away, and after a tense second, Steve bent and picked the hat back up.

"Steve," Mother said, her mind trying to figure out what to say. "I..."

"I hope it's okay to come up here before dinner," he said in a rush. The pain and misery were clear on his face and in his eyes as he stepped forward. He swallowed hard. "I was...I was hoping to talk to you for a minute, if that's okay."

Mother felt the lump form in her throat. Of course it was okay. He could ask anything of her right then and she'd do it. She nodded. "Yes. That's fine."

The door opened and Wolf stepped out. He was going to give Mother time to cool off, so he watched her out the kitchen window. And then Steve came into view and Wolf knew he had to be out there. Steve seemed like the level-headed sort, but grief did weird things to people. He stepped out and moved to stand right behind Mother. Steve looked nervous and swallowed hard again.

"I'm so sorry," Mother began.

"She was sick," Steve blurted out at the same time.

Mother blinked, surprised at his words. "What?"

Steve took a deep breath and continued in a ragged voice. "She wasn't having an easy go of it and didn't want anyone to worry. The morning sickness never went away and she had a hard time eating anything. I shoulda told you, but she kept telling me it wasn't my business." His voice trailed off and Mother almost couldn't stand to look at the fresh tears forming in his eyes. "If I just said something..."

Denise was sick. _Was that what happened to the baby? Was that why it grew to be a monster?_ Mother instantly felt guilt slice through her with that thought. "Steve, it wasn't your fault," she said, stepping forward. She felt Wolf tense at her back and knew he wanted her to keep some distance. _Let him stew_. She knew what Steve needed, and it was the same thing she did. "The baby didn't grow right," she said quietly.

Steve's eyes widened and he searched her face. "But...they said it didn't even get born."

Mother took a deep breath. He deserved to know, and she deserved the penance of telling him. "I know. I didn't want to worry people."

Steve frowned. "So you lied?" He shook his head, trying to make sense of it. "Then my kid was born."

Wolf stepped forward, so close to Mother that she could feel the heat of his body. She knew he did it in case Steve went nuts and snapped, but Mother was glad for the strength it gave her. "The baby was malformed, Steve. It had no arms or legs and the head was misshapen so badly that it couldn't have lived."

A tear slipped out of Steve's stunned eyes. His brain struggled to process what he was hearing. "Was it...was it a boy?" he asked on a broken rasp of a voice.

Mother shook her head slowly. "There was no way to tell."

Steve made a little noise, a sad, gulping, desperate little noise before turning and leaning his head against the porch pillar for support. No one said anything for a few minutes, Steve absorbing and mourning, and Mother knowing she had to wait it out, knowing she deserved the torture of watching the man completely break down because of her, because of her failures and shortcomings.

Steve sniffled loudly and ran the back of his hand across his eyes. "Did she see...the baby?"

Mother shook her head. "No. She was already gone."

"Good," he said firmly. "At least she died thinking her baby wasn't..." He swore and sobbed once again, then took a deep breath. "What do you think happened? You think it was her being sick?" He turned his eyes to Mother, looking for answers she wished she could give them both.

"I don't know," she had to admit. "I just don't know."

Steve stared at her for a moment, then startled her by stepping forward and wrapping his arms around her. Mother was stunned, and stood immobile for a moment before her own arms curled around his back. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"It's not your fault, Mother," Steve said. "It's not my fault, it's not your fault. It wasn't her fault or God's fault." He sniffled and squeezed Mother tighter. "It just happened, didn't it?"

Mother felt her own sob rise and kept it in check. "I guess it did," she said, in awe of the strength the man had. He should hate her. He should be furious and blame her. And instead, he pardoned them all. She didn't feel like she deserved it. She didn't feel like she'd ever be able to do enough or say enough or work enough or be enough to deserve his pardon. But she let his words soothe for the moment, let his shared pain bond with hers and help them both.

Steve pulled back and wiped his face on his sleeve. He took a deep, shuddery breath and placed the hat that had fallen at some point in the hug back on his head. He sniffled and withdrew a piece of cloth from his pocket. He wiped his nose, then let out a little laugh. "God I'm a mess."

"It's okay. Everyone will understand."

Steve took another breath of the cold air to compose himself. "Striker was saying something about a long run that might take a day or two. I used to drive trailers. Long hauls." He tucked the cloth back into his coat. "If you don't mind, I'd like to volunteer to drive one of the semis. I think maybe getting out for awhile and clearing my head sounds good right now."

Mother nodded. "Absolutely. I'll let him know."

Steve nodded and looked across the barnyard, not really seeing anything but haze. "I think you were right to tell people it never got born," he said quietly. "I don't want..." He swallowed and took a second to make sure the lump in his throat was gone, not wanting to break down again. "I'd like it if they didn't think it was her fault."

His piece said, the man had to get out of there. Mother watched Steve push off the railing, give a nod in her direction, and all but run down the stairs into the pouring rain. She understood. She wanted to run right alongside him. She took a deep breath, wondering why the bands of pain in her chest were suddenly lessened.

"Come on," she said to Wolf after she could no longer see Steve's form in the rain. "We better get ready for dinner."

Wolf followed her to the barn, feeling his own demons relax. Mother would be okay. He doubted she'd hum for awhile, and it would take several weeks for her to stop crying at night. He knew this because he knew her, knew how she operated, knew what made her tick. No matter what front she put on, no matter what words she said, she would always blame herself for the loss of Denise and the baby. The man in Wolf wanted to take her hand and figure out how in the hell to get them to Tahiti. But that's not what she wanted, and she'd hate him if he actually did it. For all the pain and anguish and work and toil, the life they had was exactly what she wanted. They probably wouldn't get through their first coconut drink on the white sand beach before she demanded he take her back to the hell and misery.

Wolf wondered what new policies she'd make, what new procedures she'd have for pregnant women in the future. There would be a whole new set of rules, he knew. That was simply how Mother worked. She'd take the pain of guilt over some perceived inadequacy she found in herself, and set her jaw in sheer determination to do her level best to make sure it would never happen again. For a moment that morning, when she lay shaken and beaten in the cold creek, he truly wondered if she'd pushed herself too far. He had actually wondered for a split second if she was finally defeated, if he'd ever see that spark of determination again. And then she woke up, put on her wet boots, and trudged ahead.

She would be okay. It would take time, and she would probably be a bear to deal with until then, but she would be okay. She would come out stronger, bigger, and better for it. New people would arrive within the next few weeks. She'd put her energy into settling them into town. Autumn would shift to winter and she'd drive herself hard, trying to outrun the ghosts of the night. He knew he'd have a hell of a time trying to keep up, but he would. No matter how hard it got, or how exhausted his body became, he'd keep watch with her late at night when she forced herself to balance books to keep her mind clear. No matter how badly he craved sleep, he'd follow her from task to task while she struggled to ignore the crying she heard echo inside.

And one day, the crying would stop. One day, her smile would return. One day, she'd feel like Mother again. She'd hold a baby, a real one. Or counsel Eve on her latest boyfriend. Or have the patience to give Blaze a kiss on an imaginary boo boo because she knew he needed it. One day, she would be able to see her good instead of imagining her bad, and her eyes would twinkle and the world would fall at her feet.

"No one mucked out the stalls," Mother snapped, snatching up a pitchfork and heading straight for Phil's stall. "Start setting up tables," she called over her shoulder, entering the bull's pen.

Wolf took a deep breath and started rolling out the tables they kept stacked in the corner. Yes, it would be a difficult couple weeks. But damned if he wasn't looking forward to the smile at the end.

Chapter 19

Mother stood and riffled the edges of the stack of index cards she clutched tightly in her hands. She stood on the road in front of the buildings they had used for the quarantine period, her feet crunching on the swiftly melting early snow. She watched as Gus pulled the large bus to a stop, and waited for Stealth to climb out and begin knocking on doors.

Wolf looked down at her hands, the zipping sound of the flapping index cards driving him nuts. "You're going to rip those if you keep it up."

Mother shot him a frown, then tucked the cards into her pocket. She didn't need to look at them. She'd studied them every night for weeks, and could recite every bit of the information off all eighty-eight. It was an idea she got from a guy running a community in New Mexico that went by the name Danver. She'd been having Striker trade information with the group, and even though she found Danver's tactics a little too heavy-handed, he did have some useful tips on organization. When her new people finally arrived in the last week of October, Mother and Eve carefully interviewed each member, noting names, ages, and skills. When Danver suggested the practice, Mother balked at first, not wanting to pry. However, after a meeting with the Town Council, she was swayed. The information would not only help with job assignments, it would also help with future expansion.

Eighty-eight people arrived, not the ninety four she was expecting. There were two deaths along the way, and a handful of defectors who decided they'd gone far enough. There was only one child, a boy of fifteen who almost didn't qualify as a child anymore, and only two women were pregnant.

The lack of children grew more troubling every day, and the confirmations from other groups like the Danvers clan that they, too, were experiencing the same lack offered little comfort. Striker often wiled the night away chatting with a woman from a group in California that said they'd had four babies, but only one was what she would consider "normal". That group had a population of nearly two hundred. Four babies in a year, only one of which didn't have serious medical or developmental problems. Those were not good statistics, and all of the leaders that communicated through Striker and Mother were worried. More and more it seemed as if the plague had a physical effect on everyone, even if they never actually got sick. Mother tried to keep positive and hold out hope that it was shock, not the biological mutations Striker liked to spout off about, that caused the alarming birth trend. Striker was always jumping to the zombie scenario, and if Mother hadn't banned the word outright in the house one day when she'd simply had enough, she bet he'd have everyone in town all worked up.

It was clear that babies were swiftly becoming the number one concern for humanity. Food first, then babies. Mother was pleased that there were plenty of women still in child-bearing years in her town, and she'd amp up the parties if she had to. Stealth had made the suggestion to pepper the new living areas liberally with porn, but that hadn't gone over too well with the Town Council. Two pregnant women was not a lot. For the time being, though, it was enough for Mother. She was still stinging from the loss of Denise, though she could finally admit that Denise's fate was mostly out of her control. Mother still could hear the screaming late at night, the wheezing whine of the poor little creature that never had a chance. It haunted her, and the idea that sometime very soon Mother would have to try and deliver two more babies was terrifying.

If they got far enough along to be delivered.

And if they were actual babies.

The one balm on the new chasm of panic was a nurse in the group. Her name was Nancy, and while she was only in her late twenties, she carried the attitude of a middle aged diner waitress in some small podunk town. Mother didn't care. Nancy could be as bitchy as she wanted and Mother was still glad to have her. An actual nurse, someone with legitimate medical training made the outlook a whole lot brighter.

The new people began lining up on the sidewalk near the bus. Stealth barked orders and they listened, though he did it with good enough humor that she knew they wouldn't hold a grudge. He'd gone out to guide them in when they were about a week to the south. Mother asked their leader, a tired man named Pete who was more than happy to hand over the reins of leadership, why he didn't just load them all into a bus and drive out.

Pete had looked at her like she had two heads. "What bus? We came through Chicago. People knew about the plague by then and tried to leave. The roads were jammed. We took buses and trucks here and there, but there's a whole lotta empty country between there and here, and sometimes it was just faster to walk instead of searching for gas."

That had surprised her. "There's gas everywhere."

Pete shook his head. "You try finding some the army didn't get to first!"

It was the first time Mother heard a personal account that really gave her pause. She knew the army was gathering supplies. She knew her own people had sniped them on a few of the bigger food caches, and that fact alone would get them through the winter. But she didn't see the army herself, or even signs that they had raided nearby. She didn't hear from them. They were operating in larger population centers and leaving her area alone. After one long night of panic at the thought of the army marching into her town, she refused to let herself dwell on the fact that they wouldn't stay away forever. They couldn't. They'd run out of everything like everyone else and come looking. Once she admitted that it was unavoidable, she decided to delegate the worry to Stealth and Wolf. With eighty-eight new mouths to feed, and eighty eight new bodies to house and clothe, and eighty-eight new personalities to watch and judge for temperament, she had enough on her plate.

Stealth trotted over and flashed a grin. "All the duckies are in a row, Princess."

Mother nodded and took a deep breath. She'd give a speech, something she sketched up the night before, and then join them on the bus. Wolf would follow in the jeep, and she'd ride to the condos Chuck cleaned to house the new group. The weather hadn't cooperated enough for Striker to rig all the homes in neighborhood three with solar panels, and had doubled the problem when it dropped an old oak right on the main lines that supplied a large chunk of the eastern part of the town as well. Chuck and his crew swooped in to save the day, cleaning out a two building condo complex that no doubt cost a fortune to live in before. It had thirty eight apartments and the utilities still worked. It would have to get them through the winter.

Mother thought briefly of breakfast that morning and felt a little sad. It was the last community meal, aside from holidays and events. With a hundred and fifty people, it would simply be too difficult to cram everyone in the barn. Though everyone agreed with the Town Council that household rations were the way to go, Mother couldn't help but notice that the rest of the town lingered as long as she did, knowing they'd all miss starting the day together. They'd all gather at the library in the town center each morning after the big bell on an old church was rung. They'd gather, get their work assignments, and then split up to go about their business. They'd still all see each other, but Mother knew it wouldn't be the same. None of it would be the same.

While that thought was a little sad, it was also thrilling. New faces. New stories. More hands in the fields and more people to help rebuild. Yes, it meant more problems. Yes, it meant more work. Yes, it meant more pain and anguish and fear and doubt. But it also meant life. It also meant laughter. It also meant friends and love and a future. Mother was willing to put up with all the torment and anguish if it meant she could be the one to help that happen, to be in her castle and watch the town bloom below, to know that her hands held the weight off their shoulders to give them the time they needed to begin again. Mother knew it was conceited, and she was finally to a point where she could say she honestly didn't care. She'd take that label and be proud. Newton was her town. There wasn't a soul among them who loved it more, and if that was conceit, so be it.

Mother took a deep breath to calm the nerves. It was silly to be nervous, she told herself. She knew these people. She and Eve had spent hours with them already, behind the safety of masks and gloves. She knew what they told her about themselves, and she'd figured out a lot more just by watching. They were at least familiar strangers by now, and some of them already meant more. The boy, who simply went by Dev, was quiet and pensive, and she instantly decided to find him a place working near the house so she could keep an eye on him. The nurse, Nancy, had a vicious tongue on her, but Mother found her wit hysterical. Mean, but hysterical. There was a man named Clyde who was enormous as an ox, but as soft spoken as could be, and the juxtaposition cracked Mother up. There were problematic people as well, but already Mother was finding friends among the new group. She shouldn't be nervous.

Mother took another deep breath. No, she shouldn't be nervous. The people filed into the bus, then Stealth stood back to let Mother board.

"I'll be right behind. Put your walkie on channel nine," Wolf ordered. He didn't want to sit in a cramped bus with eighty-eight people he already didn't like.

Mother rolled her eyes. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Anything else, sir?" she said, the sarcasm taking away her nerves.

"No, I think that's it for now," Wolf said, his face straight but a twinkle of carefully checked amusement in his eye. "But I'll let you know if that changes." He gave a little salute and hopped into the jeep to follow the bus.

"Your chariot awaits, Princess," said Stealth, bowing low and putting a show on for the people in the bus who watched out the windows.

Mother looked up at the smiling faces. Her population was about to triple. The patter of nerves fluttered her heart once again and she thumbed the cards in her pocket. She took one more deep breath, then stepped on the bus.

"Good morning!" she said to the group. She waited for their greetings to die down. "Boy, I bet that was a long six weeks, wasn't it?" Smiles. Good. She thumbed the cards and felt more confident. "I thank you for your patience during the utterly boring but very necessary quarantine. I wish I could offer you a guarantee that you won't be that bored again in Newton, but frankly, things get a bit dull from time to time."

Stealth grinned to himself as he watched Mother. She was magic. The group had been testy and bitchy. Their moving day had delayed because of the first snowstorm, and they seemed to hold a grudge as he rounded them up that morning. Yet with just a smile and a couple quick sentences, all was forgotten. Stealth knew people. It was his job. He'd dealt with everything from angry mobs to religious zealots, and all the stages in between. He'd seen all types of leaders, from gurus to despots, and he knew what it took to lead a group. Mother had it. She had that spark. Wolf was right all those months ago when he told Stealth she was something special, and sitting there on the bus, watching her change the entire mood of the crowd with an inborn ease, it was undeniable.

"I like ceremonies," Mother continued. "I think special events should be marked by a certain seriousness befitting the occasion. I know all of you, you all know me. But let's take a moment and make this official." She cleared her throat. "From here on out, each and every one of you has been granted the rights and privileges of being a citizen of the town of Newton. You will never again have to be alone. You will never again have to face an uncertain life. You will work side by side with friends and neighbors and together we will rebuild. The time of pain and suffering has passed, and the time of prosperity has begun.

"I'm not promising you perfection. I'm not promising you that life will be easy. However, I am promising that I will work my hardest for each and every one of you. I will care about your lives and families. Your pain will be my pain and we will work together until we can laugh and smile and raise our children knowing that there will be food on the table and there will be better tomorrow. From this moment on, you are not alone. You are mine."

Mother felt the tears well up and had to pause. She meant what she said and the emotion just pushed forward. To her surprise, she saw it mirrored in the faces of the people on the bus in front of her. Her people. They really were her people now. Not because she ordered it, not because they didn't have any other choice. For the first time she looked into their faces and saw that they wanted her as badly as she wanted them, and an overwhelmingly humble feeling of pride and responsibility warmed her inside.

She prepared a longer speech. There were more words she'd scribbled down and memorized. They were grand and important and probably would have made the welcome sound more official. But standing there in that moment, she knew that nothing else she could say would mean any more than those simple words. They were hers, and she was theirs, and really, was there anything else worth saying?

"Welcome to Newton."

Stealth started the clapping. At least, Mother believed it was him. Suddenly the bus erupted in cheers and applause and Mother couldn't stop the grin she felt spreading wide. She turned and patted Gus on the back.

"Bus driver," she said, wiping a tear away. "Let's take these people home."

~~~ *** * *** ~~~

About the Author:

Beth loves the outdoors. She'd much rather be mucking around in mud for no particular reason than doing just about anything else. Sometimes she'll grab her kukri and head into the woods with a bad idea. Usually it works out okay. She's got a scar through her eyebrow from a bad life decision involving flip flops, a steep hill, a game of tag, and the license plate of an old VW Beetle. She also has a large scar on her knee from a daredevil plan that found her standing up on the pedals of her old pink Huffy, careening down a dirt driveway while her sister egged her on...but that one there is a badge of honor.

If you'd like to contact Beth, she loves getting email and is addicted to Facebook. Email her here, or connect through Facebook here!

Other books by Beth Reason:

Looking for more books by Beth? Check out these great reads!

A Journey Deep

The Tenet Series:

Book I: Broken Tenets

Book II: Sacred Tenets

Book III: Tenets of War

Not enough of the Great Mother? Want to know what happens next?

Book II of the Great Mother Series: Base 19

Coming May 2014 to Smashwords! Check Facebook for updates!
