Homestead Harem 2, page 6
Hell, I’d have to build a new house.
I met eyes with Ellen then, who smirked a little and picked up her coffee, freeing her seat for the next person. My gaze followed the sultry swing of her curvy hips as she carried her steaming mug into the parlor, always seeking peace and quiet above all else.
“Any news from your walk around the perimeter?” Jordan asked me over the din of everyone’s conversations, devouring some fried potatoes as she spoke.
“Any news on when you’re gonna learn to close your mouth while you chew?” Alexis butted in. “You’d think you were raised in a barn. Oh…wait.”
Sophia giggled a little, and a few of the other girls followed suit. Jordan tossed a bit of wet scrambled egg across the table at Alexis, who stuck her tongue out in response.
“Well—” I started, but was interrupted by the screen door opening.
Benny, the young muskrat-boy, stood still in the entrance. Usually, this wouldn’t give me pause—but for the guilty look on his face. Instantly, I knew something had happened. Something bad.
I stood up too fast, my chair kicking backwards. It would have hit the floor but for Jordan’s quick reflexes catching it behind me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, instinctively looking around and taking stock of Charlotte, Ellen, Jordan, and Alexis. I cared deeply about every member of our community, but instinct couldn’t lie when it came to who I felt the need to protect the most.
Everyone stopped talking to look at Benny, who went red with embarrassment.
“I…” he started, his eyes roving across the crowd. Finally, they met mine again. “I messed up.”
I blinked, striding down the dining room to face him.
“Tell me what happened,” I demanded.
He swallowed, clearly terrified to admit his mistake.
“I was on the night watch…on the Eastern perimeter, and….and I fell asleep.”
My heart pounded, my fists clenching at my sides.
“What happened?” I demanded again.
He looked down at his shoes, ratty and littered with holes.
“They got into the aux barn.”
I took one inhale through my nose, out through my mouth. No one was hurt. It could be worse. It could always be worse.
“Show me.”
Benny and I walked swiftly across the lawn towards the auxiliary barn where our medical clinic and general supplies were kept, Jordan and Ellen trailing behind us. I could only assume Charlotte stayed behind to keep the girls calm. I’d have to thank her for that later.
The barn door hung open, swinging in the breeze. I braced myself for the worst—picturing the antiseptic and the IVs we’d gone great lengths to scavenge scattered, the shelves of tools that belonged to my grandfather taken, the seeds for next season and the feed for the goats and chickens stolen.
So the sight of the barn largely untouched came as a welcome shock. The corner Alexis had redone as a medical bay looked completely unharmed, not even a pill or a roll of gauze missing. The shelves of tools were still intact, the broken equipment scattering the back of the barn completely fine, still just waiting for me to have enough time to repair it.
It took Benny pointing weakly at the corner for me to understand what had been done.
The barrels of Diesel fuel we depended on to run our farm equipment, our generator, our stove—they were tipped over. Poured out. Leaking into the cracks of the floorboards and into the dirt, completely wasted and gone.
I cursed myself for not even considering this as an option—for taking for granted the fuel that Duncan had hoarded so greedily on my farm for years so much that I didn’t even think to worry about losing it. We depended on this fuel to harvest our food, to cook our meals, to heat the house on cold nights. When Charlotte was to give birth, I expected the generator on, her vitals being monitored with equipment we’d gone great lengths to scavenge to ensure she’d be as safe as possible.
And they’d just poured it on the floor.
“How could you let this happen?” I demanded in a growl, turning on Benny so quickly he backed up into the wall. “When you took that watch, your job was to stay alert no matter what. Someone could have been hurt—or killed. What’s the matter with you? How could you let them do this?”
Benny looked on the edge of tears, his small, beady eyes cast down in total shame.
“Do you have any idea how much fuel we lost? How difficult this will be to replace?” I shouted, turning around and throwing my hands into the air.
Anger coursed through me, and I felt myself seething for leaving this damn barn unlocked as if we didn’t have a plethora of enemies, for leaving our most precious resources out for the taking. For leaving my girls—my child—vulnerable to an attack like this.
“I’m sorry, Jonas,” Benny whimpered behind me, so quiet I almost didn’t catch it.
Staring at the overturned barrels, I lost it—slamming my fist into a work table and hearing the wood crack under the blow. Spinning around in a rage to face Benny again, I found Ellen with her arm wrapped around his shoulder protectively, staring at me with murder in her emerald eyes.
Of course—she was right. Seeing him tucked into Ellen’s side like that, I remembered Benny was barely fifteen years old. Just a young boy trying to do his best.
As if I never fell asleep on a job when I was fifteen.
I took a deep breath through my nose, out my mouth, trying to calm my racing heart. It was myself I was mad at—not him.
“I’m sorry, Benny,” I said, my jaw clenched. “It was just a mistake. It’s my fault for not making sure the barn was locked.”
“I really didn’t mean to fall asleep,” he said desperately, finally able to meet my eyes. “I don’t know what happened. One second I was staring at the trees, and then….I’m sorry, Jonas. I really am. I don’t know how to make it up to you. I don’t know—”
“It’s alright,” I repeated, finally unclenching my jaw, meeting his eyes so he could tell I really meant it. I walked over to the scared boy, patting him firmly on the shoulder. He looked sick with guilt, ready to throw himself across a pyre to make it up to me. He’d always been eager—the first one up in the morning to help with the chores, last to go to bed, hanging on to my every word in every story around the campfire. “I don’t blame you, Benny, I really don’t. I’m sorry I lost my temper. Now run along and have some breakfast. We’ll figure this out, you hear?”
The trembling muskrat-boy nodded up at me gratefully, his naked tail tucked between his legs as he scampered off back towards the house.
Ellen gave me a small, approving smile as he left.
It messed me up—how good it felt to do right by the rabbit-girl. She held me to a higher standard than the other girls. It was something I liked, if not begrudgingly, about her.
“So,” Jordan piped up, perched on a tractor seat behind us. “What do we do now?”
I sighed, rubbing my bristly chin as I surveyed the damage. I hadn’t even shaved yet today, for God’s sake. It was turning out to be one of those days…one of those days where you face off against an army of vicious mutant-girls dead-set on destroying you and your loved ones for no damn reason, that is. You know. Typical.
“Not sure yet,” I admitted, weakly kicking a wooden bucket on the ground as I inspected the overturned barrels, trying to determine if any drop of Diesel had been spared. “What really gets me is they didn’t even steal it. All this precious fuel, and they just pour it out, waste it.”
“That’s how Maven works.”
Sophia was standing in the doorway, the bright morning sun silhouetting her small frame, her bushy tail.
“This makes sense to you?” Ellen asked the squirrel-girl, officially ready to trust her insight.
“Sadly, yes,” Sophia replied, walking into the barn between Jordan and Ellen. “I should have warned you, but I didn’t think Maven would advance to phase two until much later. She must have sent that party with very specific instructions.”
“Phase two?” Jordan asked, her voice up an octave.
Sophia nodded. “Yes. Phase one is extensive reconnaissance, in which she has her people find your weaknesses, figure out how to exploit them. Phase two is where she starts to cripple you from the inside. Sends small attacks to destroy what you rely on the most. Phase two is where she breaks your spirit, so that by the time they all come, you already feel as if you’ve lost.”
A silence followed, in which the reality of Maven’s commitment to destruction really set in.
“What I don’t get is why they didn’t steal anything,” Ellen said finally, her blue eyes roving across the barn. “They could have taken bandages, antiseptic for their wounds from the fight. They could have taken seeds for their own farm, they could have brought a barrel of fuel home and used it to power their own house. Why not steal from us when they had the chance?”
Sophia pursed her lips, considering this.
“Most of the girls in the pack…they don’t understand what it means to build a home, to take care of each other. The most medical care they’ve gotten in their lives is washing their wounds with dirty water and wrapping them in cloth. They wouldn’t know what antiseptic is for. They wouldn’t know that a packet of seeds could save them. All they know is taking, consuming, and moving on from the wreckage. All Maven has taught them is destruction.”
Motes of dust floated silently through the shaft of sunlight streaming in from the barn door. I watched them for a while, considering our options, while Jordan jumped down from the tractor and began to pace.
“How likely is it we can change their minds?” I asked Sophia suddenly. “Do you believe it’s possible to convince them Maven is wrong?”
The squirrel-girl thought for a while, her eyebrows furrowing down. Finally, she nodded resolutely.
“Yes, it’s possible,” she declared. “Not all of them can be changed. Those in Maven’s inner circle, like Lara, will follow her to the grave. But the majority are only with her because they have nowhere else to go. I believe if we could show them another way, they would listen.”
I nodded.
I couldn’t help but remember how Sophia had cried for her friend Blossom yesterday—and I could only hope this wasn’t just wishful thinking. The girls I’d met in the forest yesterday had been fanatical to say the least. But part of me wondered if Lara, the wolf-girl leader, hadn’t been present, whether I could have changed the others’ minds.
That horse-girl did seem pretty into the idea of a hot bath and blueberry scones.
“I’m sorry, is anyone going to ask the obvious question here?” Jordan asked suddenly, her voice shrill. She was standing in the center of the barn, staring at our group with her small fangs poking out from below her upper lip, her hands on her hips.
I looked at Ellen and Sophia, who seemed just as confused as me. Then we turned back to the bat-girl, waiting for her to speak.
Jordan stared at us, her thin black eyebrows raised, her pale skin gleaming in the morning light.
“What the hell is phase three?”
Chapter
Eight
Turns out, phase three was waiting.
Waiting just long enough to drive you crazy, keeping you alert and on edge for enough time that by the time Maven and her crew attacked, you’d almost be grateful they’d arrived.
So I threw myself into action.
I’d rather tap dance with the devil than sit around and wait patiently for an attack. Maven didn’t determine my actions—I did. So I started packing for a trip. We needed Diesel, we needed it now, and I had half a hankering as to where we could get it.
“What if she attacks the farm while you’re gone?” Ellen demanded, standing in the center of our bedroom while I shoved clothes into my small leather pack and Charlotte sat against the headboard, filing her nails into points and watching the scene play out.
“She won’t,” I repeated, closing the zipper and facing the rabbit-girl. “Sophia said—”
“Screw what Sophia said!” Ellen shot back. “You’re leaving Charlotte and the rest of the girls vulnerable!”
Charlotte cleared her throat.
“I don’t feel vulnerable,” she said lightly. “In fact, I seem to remember a time when you two trusted me to protect myself.”
“I am not leaving anyone vulnerable,” I stated. “Jordan is staying back to head our security, and we’re going on full lockdown for the two days I’ll be gone. This property may not be the picture of security, but this house could withstand a nuclear bomb. We need fuel, Ellen. Charlotte could give birth any day. Do you want us unable to use any of the medical supplies we went through all that trouble to find? Alexis has been studying childbirth for months, all in relation to these machines. What if the baby needs oxygen? What if it needs incubation? What if Charlotte needs life support? Are you comfortable saying no to all that?”
Ellen’s blue eyes locked on mine, her stubborn gaze saying all that needed to be said. She didn’t have an argument. She just hated any unnecessary risk.
Charlotte stayed quiet now too. Childbirth scared her, which is why we’d taken every possible precaution to make sure it would be as safe as possible.
“The harvest is in a few short weeks, and if we can’t power the combines, we’re screwed for the rest of the year,” I continued. “That’s our food, Ellen. What do you propose we do instead?”
“Don’t leave,” Ellen repeated. This time, it sounded less like arguing and more like begging. “Send someone else out to find the fuel.”
I shook my head.
“You know I can’t do that,” I replied. “It’s too dangerous.”
Ellen’s shoulders slumped, her eyes filling with rare tears.
“I don’t want to lose you,” she whimpered.
Shocked by her sudden display of vulnerability, I pulled her into my chest, her soft skin melting into mine, her ears tickling my chin. Over her head, I met eyes with Charlotte, who looked just as surprised as I was.
“Now you’re just talking nonsense, girl,” I said soothingly. “Ain’t nothing gonna happen to me out there. We’re in a very small window here where Maven thinks she’s got our tails between our legs. We can’t play into her plans, okay? We’ve gotta be brave.”
I moved Ellen lightly back, pushing a lock of her blond hair behind her ear. She blinked back tears.
“You’re one of the bravest creatures I’ve ever met,” I reminded her.
“Don’t worry, El,” Charlotte said, having moved to the edge of the bed. “Jonas is capable. It’s a good plan. You’ve gotta trust he knows what’s best.”
Ellen sniffed weakly, finally wiping the moisture from her face with the back of her hand.
“Fine,” she declared suddenly. “But I’m going with you.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but, in the same moment, I knew it would be no use. Ellen wouldn’t be happy unless she could keep an eye on me, and it couldn’t hurt to have someone else out there to watch my back.
“Me too.”
We all turned to Alexis in the doorway, her bright orange backpack already stuffed full of what I’m sure was useless supplies that would only slow us down.
“Out of the question,” I stated.
Alexis’ eyebrows raised.
An hour later, Ellen, Alexis, Sophia and I were on the road, the fox-girl’s smug smile still not faded from her face as she turned around to look at me.
“Just keep walkin’, red,” I said defeatedly, rolling my eyes at her. How all the girls had convinced me Alexis should be allowed to come had been a confusing venture, including an unfair coercion that left me panting on the bed with my pants around my ankles. In short, it was all a blur. By the time we went downstairs and Sophia asked to come too, I didn’t have enough fight left in me to protest.
Did I feel great about leaving the farm? Of course not. But the attack on the auxiliary barn had taught me how Maven thought. The woman was clever—but, just like any enemy, she had weaknesses too. Her fighters were stealthy and fast, but they weren’t strong. They had skill and sense, but no lethal weapons. And, most importantly, the people she depended on could be swayed against her.
Which is why myself and the girls had spent all morning moving all of our important supplies into the basement of the house. Why I’d moved the animals into the barn and padlocked the doors, figuring they’d prefer being cooped up to slaughtered. Why I’d ordered a guard with a gun on all four exterior walls of the house at all times—didn’t matter that one of them wasn’t even loaded.
And, of course, why I’d instructed the girls to keep the house windows wide open for two days, to loudly sing songs and play board games, to have large, delicious meals. To use the meager fuel we had left to power the record player, to play happy music and dance.
I wanted every girl Maven sent to stake us out to see how happy we were on our farm—to view themselves how much better their lives could be. I wanted them to see they couldn’t break us—and to consider what it might be like, just for a moment, to switch to our side.
“So where in the hell are we going, exactly?” Alexis asked, skipping along ahead of me and pulling me from my thoughts.
All I’d told the fox-girl was to walk north. She’d happily taken the lead, Ellen and Sophia behind us.
“Well,” I started, pulling out my grandfather’s old compass to make sure we were still headed the right way. “There’s an old fairground about twenty miles Northeast of here. Haven’t been there since I was a kid, but I know for a fact they had a massive generator on site to power the county fair when it came through. I figure, if we’re lucky, there might still be fuel for it. Won’t replace all we lost, but it might be enough to get us through the next month or two.”
“What’s a county fair?” Sophia asked quietly from behind me.
