Ruckus Girl - The New Republic

By B Burnett

RUCKUS GIRL The New Republic
- In post nuclear war America, a scooter-riding freedom fighter battles a ruthless villain and his massive war machine, to prevent the purification he hopes to complete. Using her wits and Ruckus scooter, she fights to save her small town of survivors from destruction.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: May 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329141834

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Ruckus Girl - The New Republic

RUCKUS GIRL - The New Republic

by

B Burnett

Copyright © 2015, B. Burnett

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-329-14183-4

Chapter 1   RUCKUS GIRL

Beth knew the trail to Northtown like the back of her hand. Almost unconsciously she navigated the rough trail having ridden it so many times before. The trail, her trail, was her personal route as courier for the surviving collective of coastal towns. She travelled up the dirt path which constantly changed in texture from sand to gravel, to soft red and black earth. Ferns, lichen covered rocks and tall stands of horsetails pressed onto the path leading through the thick coastal rainforest. The moss covered trees rose high into the air virtually untouched by the war which now, seemed so long ago to young Beth. So long ago that she could barely recall the days before it. The time when everything was perfect.

One memory she did have was dim and blurred, as the oldest memories often are. A faint, elusive recollection of a small cluster of farm buildings sitting on a gravel road by the sea. The seaside valley is green, lush, and bathed in the sun of a golden summer day. A memory, of her mother waving goodbye as she drives off. The dry roads dust billowing behind her shiny dark automobile. And that small, faded, dream like recollection was all she had of her mother. One tiny visual memory that Beth clung to, having nothing else to ease her loneliness and sense of loss.

But her father she remembers well.  He was tall, red haired, with bright blue eyes just like Beth. She remembers crying as they go back inside the house.    It's okay Beth. Mommy will be back soon. Her father had said to her. And that was Beth's only memory of her mother or really, anything before the Great War. The final war which was now, more than twenty years ago.

In the time since, Beth had grown up. Though it was a hard road, most of which she had spent alone, it had not made her hard. Tough, but not hard. Elizabeth had become a beautiful woman both inside and out. Though she never, felt beautiful. Never felt complete. She was intelligent, brave, fierce and adaptable. This she knew to be true. But she never felt, beautiful. It was something she had managed to keep in perspective, no matter how skewed. Elizabeth, preferred to be well liked and respected. At least this is what she told herself, even though she knew deep inside, it was not entirely true. And she was honest, almost to a fault, even to herself.   Winding and weaving through the dense foliage of the temperate rainforest she rides her old Ruckus scooter between massive trees. Tall ancient firs that have stood for hundreds of years reach high into the sky above her along the rugged coastline. She hits a muddy, brown puddle sending water and earth splashing to the bushes on the side of her trail as it meanders through the large trees and mossy terrain.   Beth rides down the well-worn path leading to North town, her destination. She remembers when there was only her small town on the still lush coastline and not three, as there is now. It made her think again of the time before the fall, when the whole world was perfect, green and beautiful. To a time before, in truth, a life time ago to Beth. Because to her, in reality, there wasn't anything before the war.

The war, some said, came from troubles in other parts of the world. Some said the struggle was internal. To us, the survivors, it was irrelevant. It just came.   Beth does remember the day when it happened even though she was very, very young. Certain memories never fade over time, never lose their power of strong recollection. Her heart pounds in her chest as the vision plays through her mind.   Her father was working on his motorcycles in the basement. She remember holding tools for her father. Remembers the sun streaming through windows into the cool basement as he looked up, alarmed, recognizing something that terrified him.

Beth banks around a corner entering a meadow of tall grass and wildflowers. She slows her scooter looking out across the grass to the nearby ocean. Before her a large tree has fallen across a ravine. It is high above the ocean creating a natural bridge to another meadow. She pops her scooter onto the log riding across with practiced confidence. Beth looks to see the sun reflecting off the green and blue ocean below. It flashes and twinkles on the water's surface.   She recalls the white flashes coming through the basement window and filling the bright sky outside. Beth shudders as she recalls the house being knocked over from the concussion of bombs impacting close by. The shattering of the windows and the deep groan from the house as it fell around them. The cold darkness that followed.    And then the long darkness fading as the light slowly rose again. She remembers her father pulling her from the darkness into the light and holding her close. She remembers looking over his broad shoulders to see that everything had changed. The world around her was grey and dusty. The house, shattered and broken and covered by grey ash. In the distance, fires burned high into the skies, creating massive black clouds.

Beth lands on the far side of the ravine among the purple and yellow flowers in the grass. She rides through the peaceful idyllic meadow following the trail across another, man-made, bridge of wood and rope and back into the thick dim forest. She looks ahead to see if the way is clear of possible threats. She peers closely into the shadows for thieves or tribesmen lurking in wait for an unsuspecting traveller. She finds none.

She was only about five or six years old but still remembers well the terror of those nights. When infected, insane, diseased bands of cannibals roamed the land. They burned buildings, cars and homes as they hunted and killed people for food. These vicious cannibal tribes that came at night were a dark tide of violence that swept over the land. The horrific after effect of biological weapons and calamity. And the night became something to be feared.   Rounding a final bend in the forest, Beth sees the small town of Northtown nestled on the rise of a small grassy hill. It is a village of close to a hundred buildings, all tightly packed together. And like the fortresses of medieval times, is surrounded by a tall, thick wall of stone and wood. She smiles to herself as she pulls out onto the fragrant green grass recalling the beginnings of her own small town.

A ramshackle collection of improvised buildings are the beginning of a small town. Beth`s destroyed farm house is part of a small community now rising out of the ashes of the old world. Walls are being built around the town for defence against the marauding cannibal hordes. Men stand guard with weapons watching the distance for threats.    She recalls sitting on her Ruckus scooter and being taught to ride. Beth`s father shows her how to ride atop a 50cc Honda Ruckus scooter. The one she currently operates. She learns quickly. Soon she can rebuild her scooter from the ground up in several hours and her father is very proud as he watches her achievements.   Beth now rides up the slope to the town as the gate is opened for her by an older villager. He waves in greeting to her as she enters through the thick wood gates. The wave of his friendly greeting brings back her most painfully memory of all. The one memory she returns to again and again.   The day her father left. The day of all days to her. She remembers her father putting on his helmet. Remembers him as he waves goodbye and rides off on his large motorcycle. She waves to him as she watches him go... Never to return again.   Tears well up in her eyes as she passes down the small unpaved dirt streets. The memory is still painful as she relives the experience of losing her father. Images flash across her mind. Of being alone at night as she waits for her father's return. She does not eat or sleep as she waits. Her distress increasing with every hour. But the hours turn into days and still he does not return. Beth stubbornly waits, refusing to believe he is gone. She remembers becoming ill from exhaustion and lack of food. And the dark events that followed.   She pulls into a small, simple wooden structure breaking her train of thought and returning her to the present. It is a quaint, well-kept house and garden. The building is fashioned by hand from the available natural materials of driftwood, mortared stone and recovered materials. It is similar to most of the constructed buildings on the small narrow street. Pulling in and parking her scooter she takes a package from her saddlebags. Officious and expeditious in the performance of her duties, and by nature Beth purposely moves, walking to the small garden. She finds an elderly woman pulling weeds by hand in the warm summer sun.

Elizabeth brushes her long red hair back from her keen, intelligent, sky blue eyes. She wears weathered but well maintained pair of denim jeans and a faded black T-shirt with the remnants of a large heart on the front. Her feet are shorn with worn, heavy, black boots. They lace far up the shin with piecemeal laces of varying colors tied together.

Mrs Donovan, here's your medication. Usual instruction from Doc Sevenson. Beth smiles touching the woman gently on the shoulder.   She looks up smiling at Elizabeth and struggling to her feet. Beth helps the old woman as she moves over to the wood porch. She squeezes Beth's hand and takes the medication. Hold on Beth, I'll be right back. The old woman tells her warmly. I've got something for you to take back, dear.   Mrs. Donovan shuffles off to the heavy wood door, disappearing inside the small house. Beth, waiting, walks along the garden edge admiring the skill of the garden's tenders. She looks up to see a group of the local boys coming up the street toward her.   She recognizes them immediately. Jimmy Nole and his troop of 'nare do wells'. They brashly push up the street, boisterously laughing and rough housing as they make their way. Jimmy, the troop’s unofficial leader, spots Beth. Lustily, he smiles at Beth, as Mrs. Donovan returns from the house holding a bag and some heavy blankets. Beth pulls her heavy military jacket tighter around her as she meets Jimmy's gaze.

These are for Henry. Tell him, there extras and not to make a fuss, She tells Beth, knowing the reaction the gift will illicit.   Beth nods, taking the blankets with a knowing smile.   And this, is for you. Blueberry tarts... She says smiling at the young woman before her. Don't make yourself sick this time. Make them last.   Can't promise anything, Beth states flatly and smiles back. See you in a week or two.

And give our love to Henry. She adds. Is he getting any better?

Beth shakes her head. No, just meaner. She smiles to Mrs. Donovan.

Beth’s thoughts shift back to her previous line of thought before she pulled into the Donovan's house. She thinks back to the time when she was alone after her father had left. When she was vulnerable. When she was easy prey. An opportunity waiting to be exploited, waiting for someone to victimize. It only took a few short days before that opportunity was seized.

They came at night, smashing through the door to her once safe home. Strong and violent men. They beat her, stripped her naked. But before they could do further harm, Henry Rollins arrived. For her, both saviour and avenging angel.

Out of the night's darkness he came like a force of nature. Hammering the men with his fists and roaring like a lion, he broke them. Leaving them alive but setting an example for others who might follow their lead. Then, quietly dragging the broken men from the house, he left, closing the door behind him.   And with that, she thought to herself, in her twelfth year, she grew up. But was comforted with the realization that she was not completely alone in the world. That she had a home and people who cared for her.   Henry Rollins, her father's oldest friend, became her guardian angel and mentor. With his help, she learned how to survive. How to hunt and fight, making sure no one could ever hurt her again.   Mrs Donovan hands the items to Beth breaking her train of thought. Beth takes the blankets back to her Ruckus placing them on the back of the scooter and tying them down. She reaches for the bag of tarts when Jimmy snatches the bag away with a gleeful, taunting expression on his face.

Hey Ruckus Girl. I got a package for ya baby. Jimmy says as he straddles the bike over the front wheel grinding his groin on the headlights. He taunts her with the bag as she starts the scooter ignoring him. You know you want it. He continues as his friends snicker, egging him on. "You know you want my package.

Jimmy Contilis, you should be ashamed of yourself! Mrs. Donovan calls to him angrily.

It's okay Mrs. Donovan... Beth calls back to her. Beth turns back to Jimmy looking at him coolly as she starts the scooter revving it high. Jimmy rubs on the scooter with his groin making suggestive facial expressions at her. Don't disrespect my bike Jimmy. Get off.

I'm trying, He says rubbing on the scooter,...that's why I want to give you my package. He says, pleased with his innuendos.   I could, but I generally don't carry anything that small. She replies flatly as his friends howl with laughter at her retort and Jimmy's expression. This slows Jimmy's performance as she continues.

But if you, maybe had a good personality, I might have considered it. She smiles as she releases the brake, holding the handle bars firm. It shoots upward striking Jimmy hard in the groin. Very hard. He squeals and drops the bag into Ruckus Girl's bow waiting hand. She hits the gas knocking him roughly down to the ground with her shoulder. His friends burst into laughter, falling to the ground, unable to control themselves. Beth rides off down the small dirt street leaving the troop behind.

Chapter 2   RUCKUS WORLD

Ruckus Girl's home is primarily her original farmhouse. Or what had remained of it after the war. Only the roof and attic remained above ground, the main floor being flattened by the force of the concussions from the attack. Several makeshift, single pane windows have been fashioned into the roof providing light into the attic that now functions as her sleeping and living quarters, complete with a small kitchen. The attic has been widened out as it no longer has function as an attic. Boards and planks haphazardly close the area from the elements, creating new interior walls. On these low walls are pictures of the old world with its shining cities and technology. Also, pictures of lush tropical landscapes with beautiful resorts are pinned with tacks between the wood shelves that hold miscellaneous items ranging from books to kitchen utensils. Only one, bent and wrinkled picture of her father still survives. It sits, in a place of honor, over Beth's still unmade straw bed and across from Beth's tiny kitchen.     The kitchen consists of a small iron stove and open fireplace that also functions for cooking. Pots and pans hang from the ceiling off racks maximizing the available space. The few eating plates and cups she has are on a small shelf above a small preparation surface that folds down from the wall. The kitchen is accessible from the attic and the basement for ease of use.

Below this is her original cement brick basement, full of her stores and equipment. Most of Beth's belongings reside in this area of her house. Neatly packed into shelves for easy access and to maximize space. They line the walls, full of everything from plastic jugs, crab-traps and fishing rods to preserved food, clothes and blankets.  It has a separate working area for her Ruckus scooter, full of tools and equipment for its maintenance. In the center of this, in its appointed place, sits her Honda Ruckus. Beside it is a thick, handmade cedar table, covered in supplies for an upcoming trip.

The only exit from Beth's house is through a set of windowed, double doors opening to a dirt ramp leading to the street. A heavier set of metal doors, used for fortification and security are open behind the windowed doors. The entrance and driveway are surrounded by a small, well organized garden and thick, well established blackberry bushes. The bushes push against the wall of the neighbor's more traditional house.   It was the house her father had built after the town started and the walls were built. It is a small wooden house with south-facing, single pane windows and a heavy metal door. The house is faded with a grey weathered patina and is covered by a light red metal roof. The house is the house of her adopted sister and best friend, Cate.   Cate had been found a couple of years after Beth had lost her father. Alone and terrified in a grass field. She was only about twelve years of age when she was found, almost dead from exposure, the lone survivor of a tribal raid. Cate became part of Beth's family, became the sister Beth had never had. Cate became her confidant, unwavering ally and growing up to become a stunningly beautiful woman.

Surrounding Elizabeth and Cate's cozy homes are a collection of more established dwellings. Most are constructed from the remains of former structures, found items and natural materials found locally. They are huddled together in mound like forms, each building off the other. Separate yet connected. By design or want, consciously or unconsciously, all are linked together, creating a community.   Beyond these are the thick walls of mortared stone and wood, enclosing and protecting the small community from the violent cannibal tribes beyond. Two gates allow entrance to the community and are both guarded, keeping watch for threats from beyond.   Inside her room, Elizabeth, on her bed, eats one of the small tarts she received as payment from Mrs. Donovan. She moans with satisfaction at the sweet taste, retrieving any of the falling crumbs greedily. She carefully studies a hand drawn map on an old piece of paper. Her eyes search the paper drinking up what information they can from the parchment.

Elizabeth pets a scruffy, white cat called 'Mr. Max' who purrs happily on her lap, grateful his master has returned home.   A knock at the door is heard.   It's open, Cate. Ruckus Girl says, looking up from her map to the doors and seeing her friend on the other side.

The door to the basement opens and in walks a beautiful young woman with raven black hair and dark eyes. She is tall and striking, wearing dark pants and an old, heavy, army surplus jacket over a black shirt.   She carries a sealed jug through the doorway and drops it tiredly on the floor by the scooter. She looks up to see an excited Elizabeth jump down from her bed to join her friend below. Cate smiles a fatigued but dazzling smile at her friend.   From old man Rollins. God he's a cantankerous mean old man, she says, her tone slightly annoyed. I don't know why he likes you so much.

Fantastic!... Elizabeth exclaims, excitement in her voice.   Elizabeth grabs the jug from the floor and opens the gas cap to her tank on her scooter. Smiling she happily begins filling it up. Once completed she fills a second jug and straps it to the back of her Honda Ruckus.

Now its gunna smell like gas in here....ugh... Cate says, sniffing the air distastefully

Best smell in the world... Beth retorts, matter of fact.

Ya ya... Cate patronizes her friend before changing the subject, a serious tone and concern in her voice. He doesn't look good. Old Man Rollins.

I know...I was thinking the same thing, Beth agrees. She sighs before continuing. He is getting pretty old. Though it's hard to tell sometimes. Tough old badger.   Cate nods, taking a tart for herself as she sits down at the table watching Beth pack for the trip.

I love him. He's the closest thing I have to family. He's a good old guy. Knew Dad really well, Beth says, then stops what she's doing, remembering something she had forgotten. Oh...oh...What about Darren? Did He...?

Yes he did. Cate smiles, amused as she reaches in her jacket.

Cate pulls an object from her worn jacket and places it on the seat of the bike in the center of the room. It is a military compass. Cate reaches into her jacket retrieving another larger item. She places this item with the compass on the seat. It is a set of binoculars in a well-used case.

NICE! She exclaims, her eyes shining as she inspects the items. Elizabeth picks up the compass and strokes it affectionately. Then places it in one of the pockets of her own heavy army surplus jacket.

Darren says, be careful. Cate relays, unable to disguise the concern in her own voice as she watches Beth pack.

Ruckus Girl reaches into a plain brown box on a shelf. She pulls out magnum revolver in a holster and straps it tightly on to her slender muscular thigh over her jeans.

"Good advice. And for once, I'll take it.