II.
Everything had changed. The world had been torn apart by war. The United States of America was broken into independent city states and little villages just trying to get by. The refugees from Bismark had found a home amid the ruins of war. But for Matt none of that compared to the horror of returning from a trading trip to find that Violet, the love of his life, had moved into a basement “flat” with Eddie, the lone refugee who had appeared at their gates only two weeks prior.
There had been other changes to Little Bismark in Matt’s absence. The wall had expanded, for one thing. Some of it was still just a fence that wouldn’t protect them from anything, but of the four miles they had to build they had two finished. A water tower had been built and a filtration system installed so that gathered rain water could be used for more than just watering the gardens. A single wind turbine was under construction so they wouldn’t have to rely on a central grid somewhere for power.
All this was good. His home was prospering. But for Matt there was just no reason to get out of bed.
Stan didn’t care one bit about Matt’s depressed state as he banged on the door. Damian wanted everyone with a gun on the wall and as far as he was concerned, that meant Matt too.
“Piss off,” Matt said, pulling the covers over his head.
“Damian called for us, all of us. Someone’s coming.”
Grumbling Matt got out of bed and joined the thirteen other men and women who helped guard the wall. He noted that Eddie was not there and that made him smile. ‘At least they haven’t given him a gun yet, at least they don’t fully trust him yet.’
There were people further up the road. They were moving like a pack of hunters, fanned out, their movements smooth and deliberate. There were seven men and five women, none of them appeared to be out of their thirties and none were younger than twenty. They were all at least six feet tall, even the women, and they held their bodies loose and at the ready, like they were waiting for something sudden to occur and wanted to be ready to react.
Most of them held back, still within range of the rifles but trying to appear as if they weren’t a threat. Only one walked up to the gate. “Hello there,” the leader called. He wasn’t a young man anymore but he wasn’t middle-aged yet, at least he showed no signs of hair loss or a soft stomach. He was smiling but the men and women behind him were not.
“What do you need, friend?” Damian called back, knowing it was wise to keep the conversation pleasant until he had reason to be nasty, even if these travellers were setting off loud alarm bells in his head.
“We’re looking for someone, a member of our group who got lost some time ago.”
“Everyone here is from Bismark,” Damian said.
“Everyone? We crossed paths with a group from Wyoming …”
“Only one person from that group stayed with us,” Damian replied, “And she’s not lost from anywhere. I don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for here. We can refill your water for you and you’re welcome to camp on the road here overnight.”
“We will camp just up the road tonight and tomorrow we may take you up on your offer for water before we move on. Strange that our friend did not come through here; have you seen other traders or travellers?”
“No. We’re off the beaten path I’m afraid. I’m sorry that we can’t help you more.”
The man smiled. “At least you did not shoot on sight. Thank-you.”
As the dozen strangers moved away Ryan said, “They’re not carrying any weapons.”
Damian knew he was right; he had seen no rifles or any other obvious weapons but it hadn’t registered in the tension of the moment. “Could be carrying concealed, could have left someone back a ways with the weapons so they wouldn’t appear to be a threat.”
“Oh they were a threat,” Sean said. “Weapons or no weapons they were here to intimidate us. But to what