Second Chances (31 page)

“The truck, the gear...”

“The animals won't care about that. We'll get to it,” Vicky said. “After...they’re done,” she said. She swallowed, then turned and hurried away, one hand to her mouth.

“Even a pro can't handle gore on that level,” Abe said, watching her go. He shivered. “Hell, I've been in a slaughter house, I've been to some really nasty crime scenes...but that?” He shook. “That...”

“Was hell. I get it,” Miles said. He patted the man awkwardly on the shoulder. “Go get cleaned up then lend me a hand. When word of this spreads we're going to need guards and stuff,” he said.

Abe nodded and left. He came back with just about everyone in the camp. Nicole and Sydney looked at Miles. He nodded grimly but kept working.

They used the junkyard sheet metal fencing as temporary fencing along with other materials they had on hand. They used metal and wood posts along with vehicles they turned over on their sides. People who were willing to bust their asses were practically frantic to get the job done before sundown once they heard about the dinosaurs and what had happened to the hunters.

Of course, there was always the rule to construction; one man did the work while four or five sat around and bitched about when it would be done. Then they'd swap a guy in. When the bitching got too loud Miles was ready to step in. He'd ignored the Spanish, but when a couple grumbled he'd turned to them. Someone else beat him to the punch line though.

“If you want it so bad, get your ass over here and help!” Joe snarled. That got a few slackers to reluctantly lend a hand. Finally, near mid-day Joe broke down and got his loaders going. The vehicles had forklifts instead of buckets, so they tacked together a pair of dozer blades out of scrap metal and then put them to work that way.

When they quit for the day they admired their work. “Well, it's not pretty, but I suppose it'd do,” Joe said.

“It'll do for now,” a woman said with an Irish brogue. Miles nodded to her. She had some smudges on her face, her hands were brown, and she'd been right in there with them working. He'd picked up that her name was Moira. She was a bit of a looker, but when she'd heard he was married she'd cooled off towards him.

“It'd better,” Miles grudgingly agreed, surveying their handiwork. The wall looked like something from a junkyard or from a post-apocalyptic movie. It wasn't as tall as he'd like, only ten feet. He figured the big ones could step over the damn thing. It covered three sides with openings on all three sides for people and vehicles to go in and out. A bus blocked one gate; it had metal tacked to the outside.

“Definitely something right out of the movies,” Joe said. He grinned wiping sweat from his brow. “I've always wanted to do something like that,” he said.

Miles grunted looking at the open sea area. He didn't like it, but they'd only had so much time and the threat was from the land not the sea. It wasn't much, but it was a start. They'd do more in the morning and more each day until they got it right he figured.

He was tired but felt a little better. He'd sleep tonight he thought rolling his shoulders. He made a mental note to have Nicole give him a rubdown after dinner as he went to wash up and eat.

\------{}------/

They had a rough first week building the wall and getting people working. It was tough. Everyone just wanted to crawl in a shell; he'd practically dragged them out and onto the wall. He did admit that they respected him to some degree. He saw the fear in their eyes; they knew not to push him too hard. He'd gotten good at being a hard ass. The spics dug the uniform; they were apparently used to verbal abuse. That was fine with him. They deserved it.

He'd set them straight on his name. Colonel Dunn, not Coronel. “
Colonel
. With a damn L not a fricken R. Get it right,” he'd snarled a few times to Carlos and Diego, two of the guys who'd hooked up with him. “Damn hicks! Why can't you people learn English right!” he snarled and stormed off.

He was surprised to find he identified with the hard working people the most, which turned out to be the Hispanics more and more. They worked their tails off on the wall hauling stuff by hand or just working until they dropped. He realized after he'd come home with a sunburn that a few were that dark because they worked outside all day long.

A few were Gauchos, spic talk for cowboys he'd found out through his three interpreters. Diego was a short spic with black hair and black eyes, but he knew his horse flesh. Carlos also knew how to ride; apparently both had come from ranches in Central America somewhere. He didn't give a shit where; what mattered was what they could do now.

He'd found out about Rodrigo, a twenty-year-old who knew how to shoot. He'd been in the army, and he attached himself to the colonel and took orders very well. He hadn't complained when Miles had put him on guard duty at the northern gate all night after working all day. Miles wasn't sure if the guy had slept, but if he had and a dino had come around, the guy's screams would have woken everyone. Fortunately, nothing like that had happened.

There were also a few hard working people who had worked in factories in Mexico. Two couples had worked in clay factories making pottery or toilets. He could just imagine what a shitty job that had been. They'd busted their butts improving the wall, digging a moat on the outside where Miles told them too, then worked on the seaside wall. All without complaint, he had to give them that.

The few whites in their group, there were only six or seven others, either wanted a handout or had their nose in the air. Only the Irish woman worked, and she did it on her own time and schedule it seemed. When she was tired she took herself off and rested.

He heard some crap about how he was just poor white trash from someone. He'd ignored it since it'd come from a woman. He didn't have a problem smacking around a woman, but shit like that he'd keep in the bank for later. Later, when she
needed
his help he thought darkly banking his anticipation of just revenge.

Apparently the Indians or...Native Americans as Nicole insisted on calling them weren't the typical rich casino owners bilking the white man out of his hard earned money. Their reservations had been far from population centers, so they had made drums and Native American items to sell online or to tourists. Now they had to do it for real again and make it work. He wasn't sure if they were happy about the restart or not. He did hear a few complain about the turn of events a few times. Apparently they'd lived in huts and houses and were now stuck rebuilding.

Part of the problem with the wall was people were taking half the damn material to make or improve their own shelters. Sometimes it was some of the best shit. That was damned annoying. He'd had Rodrigo and a couple of his buddies go through the camp and take back stuff daily until the idiots got the fricken message. The wall came first.

After the community was fully encircled...with the damn junkyard on the
outside
, he'd lost most of his labor force. A few stuck around, bored, looking for a handout. He'd run through his meat supply and had been forced to hunt more often to feed them and his family. That sucked. But he'd realized that if he didn't, they wouldn't take orders. Apparently, even here people wanted to get paid.

\------{}------/

Miles grew increasingly angry over how things were set up. He was angry about the have and have nots, the hoarders. He knew he wasn't the only one too. Joe, he'd put in his place. The guy hadn't been happy, but he'd seen the light. He'd towed his office trailer and some of his other gear into the wall and set up near the western gate, the closest to his scrap.

“We're low on fuel. And water,” Rodrigo reported. “And ammo. We also need people to man shifts at the gates, jefe,” Rodrigo said.

“The water we can get from the river,” Miles said. “The rest...we do the traditional thing. What we can't make or trade for, we take,” he said. “Might really does make right. We need it. It's for their safety, they'll get over it,” he said.

Rodrigo stared at him for a long moment. “What?” Miles growled. Finally the spic looked away. “Yeah, that's what I thought.”

“I'll get with Joe; we'll work on something long term for the weapons and vehicles. You go get us more fuel. I don't care how you do it. And roundup some more warm bodies and weapons. Put them at the gates. If they don't want to dig, that's fine, they can keep look out. Remind them no siestas on duty or I'll have their balls,” Miles growled.

Rodrigo nodded and saluted. He took off at a trot. Miles nodded, then turned to other things. Joe was busy working on an outer wall around his junkyard and overseeing a bunch of people hunting through the material for invading animals. Since he was busy, Miles took personal charge of the raiders.

They either took fuel from abandoned or unattended vehicles or took things by force, making people donate or work to protect community. They ignored the hurt and angry looks.

Taking things got him some friends from the have nots, and enemies in the people he raided. But forcing everyone to work pissed both sides off. He wasn't popular; he didn't care. He was focused on getting the job done. Nicole was troubled though.

He did it when Abe and Vicky were off hunting. Both were a bit put out when they heard, but they couldn't blame Miles. “Next time trade. We need their cooperation,” Vicky said tiredly. She nodded in approval to the sullen guards on the wall. She turned and called out to them in Spanish. Miles caught something about thanks and food for working. The men cheered and seemed happier.

“Trade?” Miles threw his hands wide. “With what? Some people have just the clothes on their backs! We need them alive!”

“Great,” Abe sighed. “I'm from Texas, I'm not thrilled about this. But we don't need to get into a pissing contest here. People aren't happy about this mister; you're making enemies.”

“So what?” Miles snarled. “We've got to have it. We've got to do something,” he said. “People need to be fed. I'm feeding them, my way. They don't like it, there's the door,” Miles growled, pointing to the nearest gate.

“So, it's best to work together. Diplomacy,” the Texan said succinctly. “Think about it,” he said.

“I'm not here to play politics! I'm here to survive! Get over it and get with it people!” he snarled when he overheard a couple people grumbling about the tyrant colonel.

He stormed off to his trailer.

Chapter 17

The second week Miles realized most of the people in their community refused to go out. Abe had towed the battered second truck in from the massacre; its sight had gotten the spics up in a tizzy of praying and crying for days. They'd stripped the vehicle then turned it over to Joe for his yard just to get it out of sight and out of mind.

But that led to the dilemma; everyone was scared shitless Miles thought curling his lip in disgust. Sure he'd been scared, but he'd gotten over it. Only a few like the Deputy Sheriff Vicky, Abe, Carlos, Diego, and a few others went out to work on the wall from the outside or went hunting or to gather wood.

Miles joined them when he could; he had to support not just his family now but also his supporters. Everyone else hid inside the walls. They quickly ran through their food and water supplies. It was clear to Miles that Vicky and the others were getting exhausted trying to feed themselves and everyone who came to them for a handout. Abe refused to give handouts and so did Miles. He had a family to feed too. “You want it? Go get it,” he said derisively.

Eventually he got fed up with it and forced them out. “What are you doing?” Abe asked.

“Field trip. We're going to prove to them that they can do some shit outside the walls,” Miles said. “I don't see what their problem is; before we had the wall, no one cared about going out and about. Now they're scared,” he growled.

“Okay,” Abe said, looking at Vicky and Rodrigo. Both shrugged. He looked over to Carlos, Joe, Diego, and Moira. All four of them nodded their heads to Miles signaling their agreement. “Okay then. Hope this goes over well,” Abe muttered. “I've found Hispanics are proud people, think of it as...um, leading a horse to water. You can lead them to water, but you can't make them drink, Colonel,” he said.

“We'll see about that,” Miles growled. Rodrigo, Abe, Vicky and the others who had hunted joined him in rounding up the community and then pushing them out the north gate. They stood outside the walls fearfully looking around as Abe lectured them in Spanish and English. Then he organized them into groups with team leaders.

The leaders put them to work making a road, cutting trees, improving their water supply, a wider, deeper moat, and other things. Miles wasn't very comforting. “Don't coddle them; they've got to learn.”

“A healthy dose of fear is a good thing; it'll keep them on their toes,” Vicky said. Miles turned in surprise to the voice. He was surprised by Vicky's approval. “That's telling them,” she said with a nod as she walked on.

Once they were settled down, he let a few people, mostly women with children, slip back behind the walls to do chores or cook. Carlos and Diego came to them with plans to farm. Abe nodded. They drew a crude map in the dirt and then planned out the surrounding area.

The plan got the attention of others, including some of the gauchos. Suddenly they perked up, especially when they heard they were planning to not only reduce the dinosaur population, but hunt the predators and domesticate any animals they could. Suddenly both men became popular.