Second Chances (27 page)

She smirked at him. “Well?” she demanded, pinning his biceps down with her strong hands.

“I suppose I'd better get used to you calling the shots...at least in the bedroom,” he teased, stroking her hair with his fingertips.

She smiled a challenge but luxuriated in his touch. “Got a problem with that?” she asked, in a tone that said he'd better not. Her eyes challenged his.

“Hell no,” he grunted, smiling as she poked him. “I like you on top. Pride and all,” he said, caressing her again.

She grinned again, cupping his face with her long delicate, yet callused fingers to kiss him again. “Good boy. Good answer.”

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

They had a second and third harvest in the summer and then it turned into fall. The outer wall defenses had been doubled in size. Victor had grain silos and storage buildings to handle the feed, grain and produce. Trey had an indoor garage, and Adam's smithy had been relocated alongside it. Adam hadn't been thrilled about the move, but he had to admit Trisha had a point about the banging and clanging waking the baby.

They'd even set up the hot tubs in a better location. The ladies used it as a spa each evening, cajoling some of the guys into the heated water to ease their daily aches and pains. What mischief they got into afterward was their concern...and the normal gossip of their small community the next day.

The kids had a small jungle gym, and during the summer Hector and Rick rigged up a slip and slide from a water hose and a tarp. They'd had a ball and even gotten a few of the adults to join in during the worst of the heat.

Guy and Earl had buried the water lines and built a shed for the pump over the summer. They rigged a space heater inside, also solar powered. There was some concern about the thing catching fire, so they had to keep an eye on it. But with the space heater and shed they could run the pump a little longer until the temperatures dropped to ten degrees consistently. They had talked about heating the hoses but there was no point. When the creek froze that was it, no water.

John and Loni were busy like everyone else, frantic in the harvest time period. Still, she treasured some of the hot summer nights they'd had together, however brief they were. And she fully intended to make up for lost time with him during the long winter. After all, they had to do something, she thought, then blushed a bit.

It seemed their population had not only stabilized but regained its momentum; for the first time since they'd landed, they hadn't lost anyone in three seasons and had nine additional births.

Fall was surprisingly brief; it turned cold fast, then a series of early blizzards drove the animals south. They stood on the walls to watch them go; Pat smiled down to Teresa as the little girl waved a goodbye.

Loni and John had settled in together but not without the occasional mild argument. They felt comfortable; they'd lived together before after all. Her teepee was taken down, but her winter home was taken over by Kevin. The teen had matured greatly. She wished him all the power in living alone though; she'd had her fill of it. She made friends with Carlene, Eric and Trisha. The foursome played a lot of cards together when Miranda or John weren't available.

Just as winter started deepening its hooks into the landscape, they were awoken by a yell from Bull. Everyone came to a window or stepped out to look up into the dawning sky to see a familiar group of glowing jellyfish circling above them.

“What the hell, did they change their mind?” Bert demanded, coming out of his home. He blew on his hands, then rubbed them before stuffing them in his coat pockets.

“Did we do something wrong?” Carlene asked, worried. She carried her toddler, unsure what to do.

“An anomaly has become apparent. Incongruities in the anticipated time line. Prepare for consult,”
the alien boomed.

“Ah hell,” John muttered, just as Loni tucked her arm in his. He looked to her as she leaned over to him, then closed his eyes as vertigo swept them. She poked him, and he opened his eyes to look into hers. She smiled at him, then tucked herself into his shoulder and turned so he could see about them.

He nuzzled her hair gently, then looked out and about. They were in space, standing on an unseen floor above the planet. It was quite beautiful but a bit scary. The aliens floated about them.

He could see Eric, Carlene and the others talking to people. He looked around; his group wasn't the only one there. There were a lot of people, possibly thousands. At least 10 percent were toddlers; it appeared their group wasn't the only one that had gotten busy between the sheets he thought wryly.

“There is a conflict,”
a voice boomed. Everyone's attention becomes riveted to the largest creature as does everyone else. With each word it seemed to pulse color.
“Error in program parameters has triggered emergency programming.”
The riot of color faded for a moment.

“You, the one designated Mitch Chambers, come forth.”
The tentacles rippled, and then one pointed to a male near a group of other people. John stood straight and tall enough to see the man squeeze the hand of the red headed woman next to him, then step forward.
“Your actions have changed our parameters outside accepted limits,”
the alien said. The guy shrugged.
“You have manipulated variables. Your actions in revealing our visit to you and your transport have altered your species perceptions...”

Chapter 14

Colonel Miles Dunn surveyed the sorry group once they'd landed on the new world. He ignored the crap Nicole his wife spouted about a new world and Christopher Columbus. He didn't care about such things. Let the history books write themselves later or the pissy liberal wussies would, and of course they'd get it all wrong, they always do.

He was a brutal man but driven to protect his wife and two children. He was a shoot first or punch first guy. He never apologized. He was damn proud of being what he saw as an unsung American patriot. He'd done his bit in the army, and sure, he'd gotten a less than honorable discharge after four years. It was his spic of a lieutenant's fault. The bitch of it was, a white man like him being put under the thumb of a spic. People were promoted over him in the military; he thought it was racist. He'd had enough of it and he'd popped off...so what? It was true! Sure, promote a spic or a chink or a damn nigger over a white man! An honest to god patriot...and what thanks did he get? They'd tossed him out. The bastards. He had a damn family to support too!

But he'd gotten his own back, serving his beloved country even though the liberal assholes didn't want him around. He'd set up a militia group and made himself a colonel. They'd aligned with the Minutemen and protected America's borders along the Rio Grande and other sections of the wall for years.

He was of average height, five-foot-eight, with a bit of a beer gut and thinning brown hair. He was built though, muscular, which he knew his wife loved. But he had faults she said. He was embittered by every little slight. His wife blamed his temper and ability to hold a grudge on the part of him that was Irish. He had an excuse for everything his wife said.

New world, fresh start, he reminded her and himself. He took care to wear his uniform during the transit, and he knew she appreciated it despite the slight frown she'd shown him. She had freely admitted she loved seeing him in uniform; one of the reasons he liked wearing it so often.

But once they'd landed he'd realized the formal uniform was going to get soiled quick so he'd switched to his day camo. It'd been a hassle. He'd muttered about the lack of intelligence, but at least he'd had the foresight to pack extra clothes and gear. What they could afford anyway he thought darkly.

The Dunn family were from New Mexico. They'd lived in a fifth wheel trailer for years. It was battered but home. At one point they'd lived with Nicole's folks on their property...right up until Miles had gotten drunk one time too often and come to blows with her dad. They'd been escorted off the property by the sheriff. She hadn't spoken with her parents since.

Miles, of course, didn't care. He still felt slighted by the incident, and the monumental insult her father had heaped on them by kicking them out. She shook her head and put the train of thought aside.

Right after they had landed Nicole ran a census to get a feel for their new “neighbors.” Miles wasn't at all happy about the results. Fifty people were of Hispanic descent from Central or South America. Half of them didn't speak English or just ignored Nicole when she asked them. Twenty Native Americans were from the southwest. The remaining thirty people were from Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and California. Most of the spics and Indians kept to themselves in two groups. The remaining people were out on the perimeter scratching their ass. Two people, a man and a woman in robes, took off into the bush right after they'd arrived.

“There are ninety-eight of us left, including you, me and the two kids,” Nicole reported. “Forty-nine men, forty-nine women, ten kids and teens,” she said, looking at Jake and Sydney. She frowned thoughtfully. Both kids had it hard enough finding friends in the trailer parks and in the back of beyond where they'd lived before...on Earth. Here, with so few people...she wasn't sure what to make of it. “I'm not sure what we're going to do for...you know, school, medicine and stuff,” she said.

Miles grunted. He was just glad there were no aliens around and no government. He'd half feared his family had been selected to be some sort of damn servant class. “You said spics and Indians?”

“Native Americans, yes, Miles,” Nicole sighed patiently. “The rest are all confirmed from the southwestern states.”

Miles grunted. He wasn't thrilled about the city people from LA; he judged that they were mostly slackers. Finally he snorted in derision. “They're soft, lily livered. They don't know their asses from their elbows in the bush,” Miles growled. “Mark my words, they'll be either the first to die, or they'll do something so monumentally stupid they'll get other people killed.” He shook his head. He wondered about God sometimes; he was cruel. Why the hell did he stick them, God fearing, white folk, people who should be on top of the world...and mix them in with colored folk? People of the lesser races who were just dumb ignorant savages? There oughta be a law or something! Honestly, no, he'd love to have words with those damn jellyfish! He'd been tricked!

“We don't know that. This is supposed to be Eden,” Nicole reminded him. “The aliens said they're going to take care of us, right?” Her eyes searched his. He shrugged uncomfortably. He didn't know the answers, and he didn't like that.

“Shit,” Miles said, watching some of the idiots drinking tequila and whooping it up. A couple popped off rounds in the air. A bunch of other people came over. “I'll be with you in a bit honey,” Miles said. He joined in with the cowboy. He thought his presence, in uniform with his AR-15, helped calm the situation better than the spic chatter the cowboy let loose.

There were those who want chaos, no rules, but they stomped on that nonsense, hard. The spics put their guns away looking a bit sheepish. They went back to partying and playing their god awful music. Miles shook his head and stormed off. He hated fricken mariachi music. They should learn to sing! Arriba, arriba my ass! He thought darkly. “Stupid,” he grumbled. He was sorely tempted to smash the damn instruments but figured they'd pushed it long enough. “They better not keep me up all night. There aren't any cops around; I might pop a cap myself,” he growled.

He nodded to the cowboy and girl, then went back to his wife and kids before they could make introductions. Such nicey nice shit could wait.

The group was delivered inland of a western facing bay. The bay was fed by a meandering river but was connected to the ocean through a narrow gap between two headlands. It was picturesque and beautiful, almost tropical. There was a mix of lands around them, some patches of forest near and along the river, with rolling hills of grass off to the south. Short two-meter palm trees and ferns dotted the landscape in other places.

The first shelters were made out of materials on hand, palm fronds and tents by the Native Americans in their group. A few people had camping gear, but nearly half their population had little at all. Those that did have vehicles slept in them.

No one seemed to be in charge; everyone was just too busy fooling around—partying, praying, or in a couple cases, screwing in the bushes. Miles took his family firmly in hand. He and Jake set up their fifth wheel camper while Sydney and Nicole worked on gathering brush for a fire. He made certain they didn't leave the area however.

Miles surveyed the group curling a lip in disgust. He didn't like spics and didn't like how everyone was scratching their ass or begging for help. The guy with the most stuff had a damn junkyard of all things. It was insane to see such a thing on a virgin planet. He wasn't sure why the aliens...they had to be aliens, not angels...why they'd brought the guy's trash with them.

“One guy's trash is another man's treasure I suppose,” Miles muttered.

“What's that, Colonel?” Jake asked, looking over to him.

“Nothin,” Miles said, waving a dismissive hand. “You got the awning set up?”