Second Chances (3 page)

“Smart.”

“Saw it in a movie once. Some goofy thing about a group of astronauts marooned on Mars with that guy from
Top Gun
in it,” John admitted.

“Tom Cruise?” The guy asked.

John snorted. “No, the other guy,” he said, finishing up. He looked down but his inquisitive new friend was gone.

He got down when a few people started rounding up into a group at the center of their field. He climbed down, interested in what they had to say. He snagged a rifle though, checked the load, then pocketed some extra ammo just in case.

People were scared; that much was obvious he noted. Some scoffed over the concern other showed. Some of the younger generation partied, jumping and doing cartwheels and laughing in the grass, singing and dancing. John shook his head.

“Hey!” He snarled when a teen went to burn stuff. “What the hell do you think you're doing you stupid fool!”

“No rules man! Chaos!” The kid laughed, igniting the strip of cloth. “We're in charge! No man to tell us what we can or can't do!” He laughed.

“Fuck,
Lord of the Flies
,” John snarled as he went over and kicked dirt over the fire and then stomped it out.

“What the fuck man!” The teen said, shoving him. “What's your problem!”

“You are, you idiot! You think this shit grows on trees?” John snarled, waving his hands. “You see any Walmarts around? Gas stations? Once it's gone, it's gone for good!”

“So?” The teen responded, shoving him again. “Mind your own business man,” he snarled, chesting up.

John looked at him with cold eyes, making the kid suddenly think twice. “So, you're stupid,” he said in a cold raspy voice. “And you're lighting a fire near
my
shit. So if you want to be monumentally stupid, go do it somewhere else. Don't burn my shit. Or I'll put you in the ground permanently,” he snarled. That made the kid gulp. “Yeah, you wanted no rules, guess what?
Think
about that. And don't come whining to me for a handout when you are hungry,” he snarled, body checking the kid hard enough to knock him off his feet.

“That's jacked man,” the kid said, rubbing his shoulder.

John looked at him. “Look kid, we start over; we start with what we've got on hand. You want to eat right? To live? Well, grow up. There is no resupply. We're here for the long term. Make it last and recycle everything,” John said shaking his head.

The kid glared at him then kicked a rock at John. John dodged it. “Fine. Whatever,” the kid muttered.

“Start over, right,” John said, looking around to see the others watching. He waved and backed off, shaking his head. He knew he had a temper, and he knew he needed to get a handle on it. But wasteful shit like that just pissed him the hell off.

John shook his head as he took a moment to survey his new...group? Neighbors? Community? He frowned and then shrugged the idea off. Most of the people seemed to think it will be paradise until they heard the roars of wild animals off in the bush. A flock of weird four-winged, bird-like things rising in the distance made them all pause as well.

Another couple thought it would be a spiritual thing, meeting God. “I don't understand,” the woman moaned. “Is this Eden?” she asked, looking around. She grimaced at the mud and snow in the shade of a nearby fir tree.

“Damnedest angel I ever saw,” a brown haired guy said, shaking his head in disgust. That brought the couple up short. The wife was crushed by how wrong her preconceptions were. Her face fell as she turned into her husband's arms. He hugged her and spoke soothing things to her as they moved away.

John got a general idea of the breakdown in people as he did a head count. There were twenty married couples with thirty children, thirty single adults. The ratio was an even fifty-fifty male/female. No one older than forty-five was in the group. That was probably for the best; anyone older than fifty would be hitting menopause if they were female or be passed their prime if they were male, and therefore not much help in living off the land.

Everyone had been abducted from North America or in the Saito couple's case, Japan. Half of them had believed in the warnings, and when the first abductions had been reported in the media, they'd worked feverishly to get as much survival material as they could. A third were hardy folk used to living in the outback.

John for his trouble had been transported with a massive amount of wood, mining equipment, vehicles, food, survival gear, machinery, storage sheds, and other things he'd accumulated. Alaskans were hoarders and pack rats for good reason; he'd cleaned out his bank accounts to take the survival aspect as far as he could. He was a big hit with group right off once the serious people took stock and centered on him. He had a hardy Alaskan mindset to go along with the material things.

The sounds or lack of sounds suddenly penetrated John's attention. He turned as people murmured and pointed. He looked to where they were pointing and froze. For the first time in a long time he wasn't sure which way to jump; awe and fear tore through him almost at the same time. Awed, he'd always dreamed of seeing dinosaurs. The group...herd, they had to be some sort of green speckled brontosaurus or whatever the scientists called them. The ones around the perimeter of the long necked creatures looked like duck-billed dinosaurs.

They fascinated him as well. They moved like a mirage, marching along towards them. John frowned when a few people murmured and pointed. Another herd was following; these had six legs and definitely didn't come from Earth.

He was indeed awed, but it took him a moment to digest why he had felt fear. Then it came to him; where there were herbivores there were no doubt predators to feed on them. He frowned, shading his eyes to get a better look. He couldn't make anything out, but that didn't mean they weren't there in the tree line or shadowing the herds.

“Mamacita, Madra de dios,” a Hispanic male said, making the sign of a cross in front of him as he backed into a beat-up pickup truck and slammed the door shut. John looked at him, gaping, wide-eyed at the animals and shook his head. Fight or flight, he thought. Running was out; they were probably everywhere. He wasn't going to fight; they were outnumbered, and hell, out massed. That meant defenses, he thought.

“We've got to focus here,” a male voice said, making its way through the crowd. People turned to look at who was speaking. “Come on people; you've all seen the TV shows. Survival, the four essentials: fire, water, food, shelter,” a short guy said. A few nodded. “Get with it people; someone get out on each perimeter and keep an eye out. We don't want a predator coming in here and snatching a kid,” he said. That sparked a chatter as people suddenly looked fearfully to the tree line a hundred yards away.

“Name's Eric,” he said holding out his hand to John. “Eric Cantor. That's my wife Carlene over there, the brunette with the looks. Don't get any ideas; she's taken,” he said. John snorted and nodded. “Thanks for setting that firebug straight,” he said, nodding his chin to the teen.

John looked over to the teen who was with a group of others near his age. He turned back to the blond guy.

“John,” John said, shaking the proffered hand. “I think we can use the vehicles for shelter, but we'd better add defenses to that list.” Eric winced when another roar, this one ending in a screech and then a series of caws capped John's statement. He nodded. John nodded back.

They set up a plan by the fire after John staked out his dogs and fed them. He fed them only enough to get by; he knew if they were a little hungry they'd be a bit more aggressive if anyone unwelcome came to visit in the night. Still, it paid to be careful, so before bedding down in his truck he made certain his rifle was with him.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

In the morning he and Eric and others of like mind set to work. They picked a steep hill nearby. It was reasonably flat on top, about a half mile in diameter. It had rocks jutting up on one edge, forming a wall about twenty feet high. That was perfect for their needs. Not only that, but it was sloped all around, and best of all, only lightly wooded with some rocks and boulders they could use sprinkled about. The plateau top was about a half a square mile of prime space John thought, and he aimed to get it. John noted there were some additional rocks nearby and a creek near the south base, which was also good.

John trundled the dozer over using his precious fuel to get to the spot. Then he used the dozer to clear a stretch of land while Eric and a guy named Earl drove his borrowed loaders to build an earth and rock berm around the site. It took a while to talk the guy with the ancient Peterbilt tractor-trailer truck to tow John's six cargo containers and other gear up the hill. John had to use his dozer to help the truck along on the slow climb; it got stuck a few times.

The containers formed part of the wall near the rock wall. Logs knocked over by the dozer were also used for the outer wall, stacked horizontally until they had the time to figure something better out. A really tall, bald guy and a short, pear-shaped black woman kept an eye out for animals with a pair of rifles. John was grateful in a way but annoyed as well. With all the havoc they were making, no sane animal would be nosing around to investigate.

Still, when they stepped up a couple others did as well. A woman took a hatchet and hacked at the tree limbs with a pair of teens she bullied into the job. They made a pile of limbs, and then one got the idea to make a shelter out of it. John shook his head, but he was too busy to intervene.

A teenager bullied what looked like her dad to come help as well. He drove a black Chevy truck up the hill towing a loaded flatbed, then went back to get a horse trailer and then more stuff. Once the others realized what was going on, that started them talking about what they were going to do.

Crashing and animal sounds in the forest opposite their landing field had people reluctantly move in to their partially-built base camp by lunch time. John looked up in time to see cars moving up the improvised road. Of course they had to park anywhere and everywhere...usually right in the way of him or someone else. He was sorely tempted to use the dozer or loader to move a few vehicles.

Eric took charge doing his best to organize them to pull their gear into the fort in a somewhat orderly manner. Everyone had their own zone, a place they could build their own home on. Some were pretty jealous over their holdings. Of course it was every man for himself; no one helped the others pull their gear in. Trust was fleeting for some; it seemed there were already reports of theft.

A few staked out their home on the plateau leaving one person at their new home while others moved gear. That of course diminished their available manpower. The few with little belongings did their best to attach themselves to those who did. John shook off a few grifters as he parked the vehicles in a neat orderly row. He'd been pissed when one lady had used one of his loaders to move her gear in, burning his fuel. He'd taken charge of it and locked it down when she'd come back to base camp.

John swore as he worked tiredly to bring his own essentials in as night fell. The temperature dropped fast as the sun set, not that it bothered him or the dogs. They and his vehicles were essential to move stuff. But a few flakes of snow in the air did make him realize they were in a climate that had snow. And most likely, it was either late fall or early spring. He hoped it was near spring.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

Getting people to work together was hard over the next two days as they brought the rest of their stuff in. John left a lot of his mining equipment for last. Eric tried to get people to work together, but everyone chafed under him. They had their own wants, their own needs to look after. The teens bucked his authority, and that passed on to others. He eventually threw his hands up in disgust. When things started not getting done, Trisha and Carlene stepped up. That got Eric out of his funk to do stuff too.

“Made a friend, eh?” Eric said, nodding to his brunette wife as she came over with another woman in tow. “Who's this?” he asked, kissing his wife.

“John, Eric, this is Trisha. Trish, this is John and Eric. The blond here is taken,” she said kissing her hubby again and then ruffling his hair.

“I can see that,” Trisha snorted. She looked over to John. He shrugged and looked away, embarrassed by her brown eyes. “Adam's mine, wherever he got off to,” she said, looking about then shrugging.

“So, out of your funk?” Carlene asked, running a hand through her hubby's hair. “Got it out of your system?”

“I think you had a hand in doing that,” Eric admitted. “As usual,” he said as she smirked slightly.

“The problem is, either they want to go off on their own and set up their own camps and cabins, or they just blow off the idea of doing anything except partying or praying,” Eric said in disgust. He waved a hand to the teens fooling around. Theft was rife in the camp; fortunately, the teens were only after liquor and other things at the moment. They were still living it up.

~~~~~~(@)~~~~~~

Guy Roberts had helped a bit with the perimeter, but once they had a primitive wall up, he'd gone off to set up a corral for his daughter’s horses and then pretty much ignored the bigger picture as he worked on his own stead.

The wall looked like something out of an apocalyptic movie, maybe the
Walking Dead
or the
Road Warrior
series. Some sections weren't all that tall, but there was a limit on what they could use for wall material.