The Nation 06: The Nation, #6

By Dell Sweet

The rusty hinges of The Nation's gate groaned a mournful protest as it swung inward, the sound swallowed by the wind whistling through the jagged edges of the dilapidated walls. Beth's injured arm throbbed in protest, a dull, persistent ache that mirrored the unease churning in her stomach. The wasteland they had just traversed – a desolate expanse of cracked earth, skeletal trees, and the ghosts of forgotten buildings – felt a lifetime away. The Nation, in stark contrast, presented a semblance of order, a fragile oasis of civilization clinging precariously to life.

Fortified walls, though scarred and patched in places, offered a tangible sense of security, a stark contrast to the constant threat of ambush that had been their shadow for weeks. The air, instead of the acrid smell of decay and dust, was thick with the scent of woodsmoke – a comforting aroma, tinged with the unfamiliar sweetness of unfamiliar herbs. The smoke curled lazily from a cluster of buildings constructed from a haphazard mix of salvaged materials: rusted metal sheets, scavenged wood, and surprisingly resilient fabric woven from plant fibers.

Billy, his eyes perpetually scanning the surroundings, kept close to Beth, his concern etched deep into his usually jovial features. His hand, rough and calloused from years of scavenging and survival, rested lightly on her back, a silent offering of support. He didn't need to speak; the unspoken worry hanging between them was palpable. Bear, their silent, watchful companion, moved with the fluid grace of a predator, his gaze sweeping across the settlement, assessing potential threats with practiced ease. His large frame seemed to absorb the ambient light, making him appear less of a man and more of a watchful guardian, a silent protector. His keen senses had guided them through the most treacherous landscapes, and now, as they finally stood within The Nation's walls, he remained ever vigilant.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Writerz
• Release date: Feb 19, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301026968

Dell Sweet

Dell Sweet was born in New York. He wrote his first fiction at age seventeen. He drove taxi and worked as a carpenter for most of his life. He was honorably discharged from the U.S. Navy in 1975. He has written more than twenty books and several dozen short stories.

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The Nation – 06

By Dell Sweet

All rights foreign and domestic reserved in their entirety.

Cover Art © Copyright 2019 Dell Sweet

Some text copyright 1984, 2000, 2004, 2005, 2019 Dell Sweet

LEGAL

This is a work of fiction. Any names, characters, places or incidents depicted are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual living person’s places, situations or events is purely coincidental.

This novel is Copyright © 2019 Dell Sweet. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means, electronic, print, scanner or any other means and, or distributed without the author's permission.

Permission is granted to use short sections of text in reviews or critiques in standard or electronic print.

Prologue

The Nation

Hey, Cammy smiled. I thought you were just going to go on sleeping forever.

Beth levered her arms down to scoot up in the bed and nearly banged the stump of her arm against the side of the bed before Cammy stopped her.

Honey... Honey... Your arm. You have to be careful, Cammy told her. She took her under the arms and lifted her gently back into the pillows.

Oh God, Beth whispered through her dry lips as she stared down at the stump of her arm. Somebody chopped off the rest of my arm. Her eyes came up to Cammy's own.

Honey, Sandy had to take it. It was infected, Cammy told her. She gently pushed her back into the pillows. Sandy appeared over her shoulder with a wooden cup of water. Cammy took it and helped Beth to take a sip. Easy, Honey, just go slow, she told her.

Beth cleared her throat and took a larger sip. Oh my God... I have such a bad headache. Kind of sick to my stomach too.

Sandy took her hand, and her fingers rested lightly against her wrist for a moment, feeling for her pulse. The stomach is a couple of things, most likely. I have no idea when the last time you ate is, but I would bet it's been a few days. Pain killers and penicillin on an empty stomach are tough. I gave you a sports drink when I could get you to swallow, but you need real food. The headache is probably the morphine. You've been living on it the last few days. I can give you some aspirin for that.

She told me I couldn't have aspirin, Beth said as she looked at Cammy. Said I had to have the Morphine. She licked her lips for what seemed like an hour and then took another deep sip from the glass Cammy still held.

She wouldn't take it at first, true, Cammy agreed with a laugh.

Said I had balls... Thinks I don't remembner... Rember, she sighed.

Cammy laughed. Remember... Remember, Honey. Yes. I asked you if you had balls, she turned to Sandy and her arched eyebrows. She wanted to take only aspirin after Bear took her arm off.

Beth nodded. I did. She talked me into Morphine, and now look at this... I woke up with the rest of it gone too.

Only from the elbow down, Sandy said. You're lucky.

Beth tried a lopsided smile on and then took another sip of the cold water.

Listen, Honey, you needed the Morphine. You still do, really, and you can still have it if you want it. It just plays hell with your body when you've been on it a few days, Sandy told her.

Beth took a deeper sip that was more like a real drink. That is really good water, she said.

Cammy and Sandy both laughed. How about a sandwich, soup, broth? What do you think you can handle? Sandy asked her.

I think I can handle some more water, Beth said.

I'm sure you can. And you need liquid. I just want there to be some nourishment in it, Sandy told her.

Hot anything doesn't sound good. My stomach is still off, Beth said.

How about some cooled beef broth? Soup? Doesn't have to be hot, Sandy agreed.

Beth swallowed, took a deeper drink of the cold water and nodded.

Billy And Pearl

Bill, Billy... William? Pearl asked.

Billy's good, Billy told her. William makes me feel... too high class, I guess.

Pearl laughed. It's not wrong to think proper of yourself.

The two were walking slowly down through the valley. Billy looked around at the valley. You came with them? Helped to build this? It's awesome... really incredible.

I would love to say it is so, but no, I was here visiting family, in the states, I mean. I came across country with friends I only met them after the fact. I've been here about three months so far. I believe this place began in April. I arrived in June, she brushed a shock of thick brown hair out of her eyes and looked up at Billy. I did help to build the second and third barns. The rest has been catch what comes, for all of us really.

I could listen to you speak for hours, Billy said. He blushed a second later. Pearl blushed too and looked up at the clear blue sky and then back down at the stone path they walked. What will you do? Pearl asked.

Well, I'll wait for Bear to come back. When we left, we really didn't talk about it. I just don't know yet. He looked up at the sky and then back down to the stone flagged pathway. He may not want to stay.

Pearl nodded. And if this Bear of yours decides to go, then you will go with him, I suppose. That man thing. All for one and one for all... follow you to the ends of the Earth?

Billy laughed, but stopped when he looked back down at Pearl. I... He started. She smiled up at him, and he lost his words.

I didn't mean to do that to you, she said. Take away your words.

He thought of a dozen retorts but said nothing for a second. Well, maybe I would have said something dumb. I wouldn't have meant to. I suck at conversations like this, Pearl.

She nodded. Is she your girl? Jamie? She blushed harder. You don't have to answer; it's really not my business. I'm sorry.

No... No... Don't be sorry, Billy told her. Is she my girl? He looked at her frankly. No. Probably was once upon a time. In fact was... but I screwed that up, like a few other things I've done. Billy looked away.

Look, Pearl told him. Doesn't matter. I pry too much sometimes. I know that about me. Come with me if you like. I have to make a patrol. Just the valleys, foothills, takes most of two days to do. I have a truck with four wheel drive, a camping tent that I never use, and I go around and check all the perimeters. Boring, I suppose, unless you like the solitude... the mountains, She smiled up at him. He towered over her by at least a foot. I promise, no dead people, at least there never has been. Of course I'm looking for them though, aren't I?

Billy laughed. Just like that?

Pearl stopped on the path and looked up at him. Just like that? What did you think, then?

Uh... I.

Pearl burst into laughter, slipped her arm through his and pulled him forward once more on the path. Rattled you. I did, no use contradicting it.

Billy laughed after a second. You did. You did, he caught up, leaving her arm where it was. So two days?

You'll love it, she told him.

Okay. What do I need to do?

Not a thing. No one to say goodbye to?

No, Billy agreed.

Then we go. She pulled at his arm. Come on. I'll show you the truck.

The Nation

Beth sat up on the edge of the bed, got her feet under her and then stood. Whoa, she said as she sat back down.

Slow, Honey, Susan told her. Susan was on one side, Sandy on the other, Cammy anxiously standing in front. Take a deep breath or two. Let the lightheadedness pass.

Beth did as she was told, the lightheadedness passed, and she stood once more. This time her feet felt steady. Her stomach did not flip flop. All three of the other women hovered close by but did not attempt to help her. She laughed nervously and then walked to the door.

Hmm. A little shaky, Sandy said. You feel up to an outside trip?

Oh, God yes. Please, Beth said.

Cammy laughed. She will never be any sweeter, she said.

All four of them laughed. Sandy stepped ahead, opened the door to the room, and Beth followed her out into the main cave area.

Beth looked around as she walked through the main area. I had no idea it was so big. Her eyes rose to the ceiling some hundred feet above her.

This is nothing, only the main meeting room. The passages go all through the mountain. It's riddled with them, Susan told her.

Sandy swept open the main door, and a cool breeze came in as she did. The four women stepped out onto the rock wall edged ledge and its view of the valley below.

Beth drew a quick breath. My God, it's so beautiful, she said.

Cammy came up behind her and rubbed one hand across her low back. Beth turned and looked at her. Anything else? Beth asked.

No. They're on the way, she told her.

Cammy, Beth started.

Cammy shook her head. I know. He told me that he told you, and what he told you was the truth. She smiled as she finished. Susan and Sandy slipped past them and walked over to the long waist high rock wall that had been built on the edge of the ledge. Beth looked pensive, but allowed a smile to float up from the depths of her worry. She made her way across the ledge and looked down into the valley.

It's so pretty, Beth said. She breathed in the cool, fresh air.

You are officially off bed rest, Sandy said.

Beth smiled. Her eyes slipped over to her arm and the thick pad of bandage at the elbow. She sobered, but as her eyes swept back out into the valley, the smile surfaced once more and stayed. Cammy settled beside her and looked out onto the golden foliage of the trees and the tall golden-brown fields of wheat.

I will never leave here, Cammy said.

Beth nodded.

Cammy looked at her. Do you think this can hold him?

Beth shook her head, but the smile stayed. I don't think a woman or a place can hold Bear, She said.

Cammy nodded, her face a careful mask.

Feel up to a short walk down there? Sandy asked.

I say, let's go, Beth answered.

You get tired, say so, Susan told her.

She will, Cammy said. She linked one arm through Beth’s good arm, and the four women started down the ledge that dropped down into the valley.

On The Road

Bear dropped to the ground across from Mike, reached over and handed him a hot cup of coffee. He leaned back against a tree trunk behind him and rolled a cigarette.

On our way? Bear asked, after he had lit his smoke and taken a deep pull. He let the blue-gray smoke drift from his nose as he held Mike's eyes with his own.

Jessie's up to it.

Bear nodded.

What is it, Bear? Mike asked. What's on your mind? It was the first time he had ever seen Bear looking uncertain.

Bear shrugged. A few things I guess. Like, what do you do to keep safe now? I mean, who does that? Are there patrols of some kind? His eyes held Mike's own. The thing is, I can not imagine life without drama.

Mike nodded. You'll miss it, or you hope to never see it again? He paused for a second. We have a patrol. Small, but effective, I think.

Hmm. Good question, isn't it? I don't know. I think for a short time I'll be glad not to have it, and then I think I'll start feeling tied down. I don't know if I want to be tied down again... ever. He cleared his throat and then continued. Have you considered a farther reaching patrol, like a patrol that comes out here, running for the stuff the Nation needs? You know, like making it a fulltime thing. Wouldn't that make sense? I'm talking about something close to a military outfit. We could fight the dead - that might have to happen - keep them away. There are Army bases just sitting around out here full of weapons. We could get them. We could keep roads open, a lot of things, Mike. I guess I sound kind of crazy, but I think some day the Nation will need it. It will need it, because there will be those who will bring it to us if we don't bring it to them.

Chapter 1: Arrival at The Nation

The rusty hinges of The Nation’s gate groaned a mournful protest as it swung inward, the sound swallowed by the wind whistling through the jagged edges of the dilapidated walls. Beth’s injured arm throbbed in protest, a dull, persistent ache that mirrored the unease churning in her stomach. The wasteland they had just traversed – a desolate expanse of cracked earth, skeletal trees, and the ghosts of forgotten buildings – felt a lifetime away. The Nation, in stark contrast, presented a semblance of order, a fragile oasis of civilization clinging precariously to life.

Fortified walls, though scarred and patched in places, offered a tangible sense of security, a stark contrast to the constant threat of ambush that had been their shadow for weeks. The air, instead of the acrid smell of decay and dust, was thick with the scent of woodsmoke – a comforting aroma, tinged with the unfamiliar sweetness of unfamiliar herbs. The smoke curled lazily from a cluster of buildings constructed from a haphazard mix of salvaged materials: rusted metal sheets, scavenged wood, and surprisingly resilient fabric woven from plant fibers.

Billy, his eyes perpetually scanning the surroundings, kept close to Beth, his concern etched deep into his usually jovial features. His hand, rough and calloused from years of scavenging and survival, rested lightly on her back, a silent offering of support. He didn’t need to speak; the unspoken worry hanging between them was palpable. Bear, their silent, watchful companion, moved with the fluid grace of a predator, his gaze sweeping across the settlement, assessing potential threats with practiced ease. His large frame seemed to absorb the ambient light, making him appear less of a man and more of a watchful guardian, a silent protector. His keen senses had guided them through the most treacherous landscapes, and now, as they finally stood within The Nation's walls, he remained ever vigilant.

Anya, The Nation's leader, observed them from a distance, her posture radiating an air of quiet authority. She stood near a weathered watchtower, her gaze unwavering and sharp, like a hawk assessing its prey. She wasn’t young, but there was an undeniable strength in her frame and a steely glint in her eyes that spoke of years spent battling the elements, surviving the brutal realities of their ravaged world. Her dark hair, pulled back in a practical braid, framed a face etched with the map of her experiences – each line a testament to hardship overcome. She watched them, assessing their needs, their intentions, the potential threat they might represent. There was no overt hostility in her stance, but neither was there warmth. It was a careful observation, a silent evaluation that left Beth feeling oddly exposed.

The silence stretched, broken only by the creak of the gate and the rustling of leaves in the meager wind. It was a silence heavy with unspoken questions, with the weight of survival pressing down on them. What would their reception be? Would they be welcomed, or would they find themselves facing suspicion and rejection? The uncertainty hung like a shroud, threatening to suffocate them with its suffocating weight. The long journey had taken its toll, not just physically, but emotionally as well. The constant threat of starvation, thirst, and unforeseen dangers had left them battle-worn and weary. They had arrived at The Nation with little more than hope and the desperate need for help.

Beth shifted slightly, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through her injured arm. It had been a horrific injury – a deep gash that had nearly severed her arm, sustained during a desperate struggle with raiders who had attacked their small group. Billy and Bear had fought valiantly, managing to fend off their attackers, but the cost had been steep. Beth's arm, bandaged crudely and hastily, felt both numb and fiercely throbbing. The pain was a constant reminder of their fragility, of their precarious existence. She glanced at Billy, seeking reassurance, but even he seemed unsure of their reception. Bear, however, remained outwardly calm, his attention fixed on their surroundings.

The ground beneath their feet was uneven, a mix of packed earth and scattered rubble, testament to the harsh conditions that The Nation had endured. Small patches of what might have once been cultivated gardens were visible, tenacious plants clinging to life in the barren landscape, hinting at the community’s struggle for self-sufficiency. The buildings, though haphazard in their construction, were strategically placed, suggesting a thoughtful plan. There was a functional logic to their layout, a sign that this wasn't just a random collection of shelters but a planned community striving for survival.

As they moved deeper into the settlement, Beth noticed the quiet activity of the inhabitants. People went about their daily tasks, a muted energy humming beneath the surface. Children played a strangely subdued game in a small, dusty square, their laughter muffled and hesitant. Women worked together, mending clothes, tending to crops, and carrying out other essential tasks, their movements precise and efficient. Men patrolled the perimeter walls, their eyes constantly scanning the horizon. The atmosphere was tense but not hopeless, a feeling of determined resilience hanging heavy in the air. It was a community clinging to life, not merely surviving, but actively fighting to thrive in this harsh, unforgiving world.

The overall mood of the settlement, despite its dilapidated state, was one of determined self-reliance. The inhabitants of The Nation didn't appear weak or downtrodden; rather, they projected an aura of resilience, of having survived countless hardships. There was a quiet strength to their movements, a disciplined efficiency that spoke of a community tightly knit by the harsh realities of their post-apocalyptic existence. It was a society built on survival, a testament to human adaptability and endurance. Beth felt a flicker of hope amidst the uncertainty. Perhaps, in this unlikely haven, they could find the medical help she so desperately needed.

The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched and distorted the already uneven landscape. The air grew colder, and Beth shivered, the chill seeping into her bones, a stark reminder of her weakened state. She clutched her injured arm, her fingers brushing against the rough fabric of the bandage. The dull ache persisted, a constant, nagging reminder of the fight for survival that had brought them to this place. The journey had been arduous, the challenges numerous, but the sight of The Nation, with its surprisingly organized community, offered a glimmer of hope in the desolate wasteland that surrounded them. The arrival at The Nation was a pivotal moment in their journey, a step towards a possible future, but the uncertainty of their reception lingered. The future was uncertain, but for the first time in a long time, Beth dared to hope. Their arduous journey might have finally led them to safety.

Anya emerged from the shadows of the watchtower, her movements fluid and deliberate despite the weight of years etched onto her face. She wasn't tall, but her presence commanded attention. Her dark eyes, sharp and assessing, swept over Beth, Billy, and Bear, lingering for a moment on Beth's crudely bandaged arm before settling on Billy's face. There was a quiet strength in her posture, a calm authority that belied the harshness of their world. She didn't smile, but her expression wasn't unfriendly either; it was simply an appraisal, a silent judgment.

You are welcome within our walls, her voice was low, a husky timbre that resonated with an underlying strength, but our resources are scarce. State your purpose. Her words, though blunt, lacked harshness, conveying a sense of weary pragmatism rather than outright hostility.

Billy stepped forward, his hand instinctively moving to rest on Beth's shoulder, offering unspoken reassurance. We seek medical aid for her, he said, gesturing towards Beth. She was badly injured during a raider attack.

Anya’s gaze remained fixed on Beth’s arm. The silence that followed stretched, heavy with unspoken anxieties. The wind whispered through the gaps in the wall, carrying with it the scent of woodsmoke and the distant, haunting cry of a lone bird. It felt like an eternity before Anya spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper. The Elders will decide.

The Elders were a council of seasoned survivors, men and women who had weathered countless storms. They were not elected; their authority stemmed from their longevity and their proven ability to lead and make sound decisions in the face of adversity. Their faces, etched with the harsh realities of their existence, bore testament to years of struggle and survival. They gathered in a small, dimly lit structure fashioned from repurposed shipping containers – a makeshift meeting place that radiated a palpable air of solemnity.

The room was sparsely furnished. Rough-hewn wooden benches encircled a weathered table, its surface scarred and scratched, a silent record of countless debates and decisions made. A single oil lamp cast flickering shadows on their faces, accentuating the deep lines around their eyes and mouths. The air within was thick with the scent of dried herbs and something else – a faint metallic tang that hinted at blood and the constant struggle for survival.

Anya, seated at the head of the table, addressed the Elders, her voice clear and firm, cutting through the tense silence. We have visitors. A woman requires medical attention. Her injury is severe. She described Beth’s condition, her words precise and to the point, devoid of unnecessary emotion.

The Elders exchanged glances. Their expressions were serious, reflecting the weight of their responsibility. Each one possessed a unique perspective shaped by their individual experiences; some were hardened warriors, others skilled healers, and still others, wise strategists whose insights had guided The Nation through countless perils.

What are the resources? a wizened old woman with eyes that held the wisdom of a lifetime asked, her voice raspy but firm. Her name was Elara, and she was widely regarded as the most skilled healer among them. She was known for her knowledge of herbs and remedies, skills honed over decades of survival. Her examination of Beth's wound would be crucial.

Anya, without hesitation, detailed their limited supply of medical supplies – bandages, antiseptic, and a dwindling supply of pain relievers scavenged from long-abandoned medical facilities. She explained the risk involved in using those precious resources on Beth, considering the limited expertise among them. There was a palpable tension in the room as the Elders weighed the benefits of helping Beth against the possible depletion of their already scarce resources.

A man with a weathered face and piercing blue eyes, known as Ronan, spoke. He was a pragmatic leader, known for his strategic thinking. We must consider the risk of infection, he said, his voice grave. If we fail, we lose not only her but also potentially precious supplies. His concern wasn't solely about Beth's survival, but also about the long-term consequences for The Nation.

The debate continued, a careful weighing of risks and rewards. Each Elder presented their perspective, their words carefully chosen, revealing years of experience in navigating the treacherous paths of survival. The air hung heavy with the unspoken weight of their decisions, every word carrying the impact of their limited resources and the precarious balance of their community. The silence between their utterances was filled with a palpable tension; the very air seemed charged with the life and death weight of their decisions.

Billy watched them, a mixture of apprehension and awe welling up within him. He had never witnessed such a formal gathering, such a structured process of decision-making. It was a far cry from the chaotic, spontaneous decisions they had been forced to make while on the run. This community, despite its limitations, possessed a level of organization and planning he hadn't encountered before. He was impressed by their measured approach, their collective wisdom. Yet, he couldn’t shake the growing anxiety gnawing at him. The outcome of their decision would ultimately determine Beth’s fate, and his own.

Anya, throughout the lengthy deliberation, remained a pillar of calm amidst the storm of concerns. Her calm demeanor, her unwavering authority, acted as a grounding presence, reassuring everyone that their situation was being handled with wisdom and care. She didn’t interrupt or dominate the conversation; instead, she facilitated it, guiding the discussion with quiet confidence. She was the anchor, the steady hand in the chaotic sea of post-apocalyptic life. Her leadership wasn't about control; it was about guidance, about nurturing their collective resilience.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, Elara spoke, her voice low but certain. We can treat her, she announced, her eyes fixed on Anya. The risk is considerable, but the reward is worth the gamble. We have enough supplies, and I am confident I can manage the infection.

A palpable sense of relief washed over Billy. He hadn't realized