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A quote: “Sometimes it is said that man cannot be trusted with the government of himself. Can he, then be trusted with the government of others? Or have we found angels in the form of kings to govern him? Let history answer this question.” ~~ Thomas Jefferson
I’ll start with a story …
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“They don’t give up, do they?”
“Nope.”
“The greys, after all these years, can’t they just leave us alone?”
But like that ancient saying, they just can’t quit us.
Old Tom and I sit near the back of the hall watching the leaders of several liberty towns debate continuing trade with the Grey Cities. Tri-corner Sadie has the floor, telling how her place had been raided by them – crops & livestock stolen when two shots froze us all.
Pause. Three shots.
We all bolt from building, pulling sidearms, running for our horses.
The treaty is broken. God save us all.
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Now, it’s your turn.
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. featured image, cropped, Adobe Stock standard license.
Cameron says: There were a lot of names for them. Outsiders, Stalkers, Brutes. We just called them Demons.
They came calling after services one Sunday. I was the last alive because I was small and could climb trees. I prayed for someone to save me.
The man came racing forward on a horse. His rifle spat out flames and the demons died. A few tried to surround him but he dismounted and they died. When it was done, he looked up at me.
“I can teach you,” he said.
I left with him that instant. And I learned how to hunt them.
Arkansas had been the worst part of the journey. They were right across the Red River from Texas, so you’d think they would be sympathetic — but the two states don’t really have that much in common. And quite honestly, the only reason Texas is so sympathetic to Sharps is all the astronaut clones in Houston.
Which was where I was headed, although my ur-brother wasn’t an astronaut, but an inventor and corporate executive. With the East Coast getting too hot for the likes of us, now that Flannigan’s goons had disappeared New Hampshire Governor Armitage, I’d decided the Lone Star State was my best bet. But somehow I’d attracted the wrong kind of attention in one of those little towns I’d gone through, and now I was running for my life.
All I had to do was get across the Red River and into the Piney Woods, and I’d have a straight shot down US 59 and I-69. Or I thought, until I realized that some of my pursuers had followed me across the bridge.
No matter how hard I pushed, I could never lose them. As soon as I slowed down to let the temperature gauge go back to a better range, they’d close the gap.
And then the needle went straight into the red zone and steam started coming out from under the hood. The engine sputtered and the next thing I knew, I was coasting to a stop, with people who regarded me as the product of Frankenstein science rapidly approaching.
When I saw the guy on horseback come riding up, I thought sure it was game over. But then he reined in his horse. “Looks like you could use a hand there, pardner.”
He raised the rifle and the shots sounded like physical blows to my ears. But it was just enough to send my pursuers scattering.
“It won’t hold ’em off for long, if they’re fanatics.” The cowpoke slid his rifle back into the long holster slung from the saddle, then dismounted. “No offense, but a tenderfoot ain’t gonna be able to hike all the way back to the house. Let me get you up on Belle here and we can get far enough away that Sissy can meet us in the pickup.”
He proved as good as his word. The horse’s ears twitched at my clumsy efforts to mount, but didn’t shy or try to buck me off, probably because she knew better to pull stunts like that with her human right there. Still, I had a very sore behind when his sister showed up.
I’ve been here for about a week, helping out as best I can while they talk to their connections, trying to find someone who can give me a lead on a more suitable job down in the Houston area. I’m not much good at physical stuff like bucking bales, but I can sort out anything electronic. I put their office computer back to rights and sorted out the wiring on a feed grinder that was acting up, stuff like that. If I stay here much longer, I’ll probably have the whole place rewired.
Dupin says: It sucks that we’re back to the Wild West of the nineteenth century. Foxfire books were helpful but still didn’t prepare me for the gross lawlessness.
Airsoft and paintball were fun, but I had no idea those were my training grounds for today. Yet, here we are.
Guzman and his buddies want to take what we’ve rightfully acquired, and they’ll kill us to get our stock, our supplies, and our women.
However, while he may be sighting in on Joshua, Guzman’s in my crosshairs. As I squeeze the trigger, I hope the horse’s head doesn’t rise. We need that horse.
Navig8r says: Note to self. Next movie, try to get selected as a mount for one of the Indian characters. One who only carries a bow and arrows. Earplugs for horses kinda sorta work, but that muzzle blast so close to sensitive ears is pretty hard to take. Same goes for muzzle blast so close to the eyes. They won’t let humans on a firing line without safety goggles. Do you ever see them on a movie horse?
Then again, it is very satisfying to see the bad guys scattering before us as we do the charge scene.
Maybe movie after next . . .
Cameron says: That’s the funniest one I’ve read in a while.
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