Chapter 17
Beware Greeks Bearing Gifts
Five years ago...
July 14th, 2115
"A horse? You aren't serious? A horse? A Trojan horse? Munin would kill you in shame. Nobody is going to fall for a Trojan horse, its too ridiculous."
Malika was staring in disbelief at Cooper. Pike was sitting quietly looking at his half-brother as Cooper stood grinning at himself.
Cooper stood silently grinning, waiting as Malika stared in disbelief and Pike sharpened his boot knife quietly. Pike always sharpened his knife when he was uncomfortable with something.
"Cooper," Malika shook her head, "If people find a big sculpture of a horse, forgetting of course that we don't have a big sculpture of a horse, but if the wolves find a big horse, they are going to cut it open, they are going to know that its us."
Cooper didn't stop grinning, "Hey, they already know we're coming. And I have a big plan, a special ghost certified plan."
Malika shook her head again, "Coop, I like the fact that Mister Poe taught you his secret medicines, and his spooky secret secret stuff- but I'm a Freeman to the core and I don't believe in voodoo and ghosts and spooks and magic and the secret oil fields of Australia. I generally trust you, but as cute as you are, you can be a total flake some times."
Cooper blushed, "Hey, I've walked inside my own brain, and I've got my own special ghost dealer top hat."
Malika shook her head.
Pike looked up and chuckled, "You look like a dog shaking itself dry Malika."
Malika faced Pike and pointed a finger and Cooper, "A hat is not enough to make a stupid crazy plan work. Your brother is going to end our streak of wins and this time one of us is going to die."
* * *
Helen sat and watched the camp work. Helen was thirteen years old. She had slipped from her bunk in the earlier morning and was hidden under the shed before the workers arrived at the site. The workers had not been at the site long, and had just finished leading the donkey carts full of earth up to the site.
Helen hated watching her clan work. The Wallace clan had been a powerful clan amongst the peoples of the Great Alliance fifteen years ago. But that was fifteen years ago, today the Wallace clan was a tenth of its original size and what remained of the clan was packed into a prison camp. Fifteen years ago the Wallace clan had been conquered by the Winter Wolves, and its warriors were executed and replaced with Winter Wolves. The peoples of the Great Alliance had suspected other tribes and clans of being puppets of the Winter Wolves, nobody had even suspect the Wallace clan. Perhaps that was the Winter Wolves' plan. Slowly, members were moved to prison camps and replaced with Winter Wolves. The Winter Wolves seemed to breed like rabbits, if rabbits approved of raping conquered peoples.
Helen Wallace watched the camp, and watched her clansmen work.
Helen knew that she should be working. She and possibly her clansmen would be punished if the Winter Wolves caught her hiding under the tool shed. But Helen could not shake the fact that as her clansmen were build earthworks and the beginning of a new fort here for the Winter Wolves, they were building the gallows that the Winter Wolves would hang them all from.
Helen was not going to build her own gallows, and she was not going to build one for her clansmen. She was young but she remembered what her great grandmother: Ella Wallace, had read to her.
"At every stage, the oppressor will give you a choice," great-grandma Ella had said, "Go along or risk being beaten and maybe killed. They will ask you to be reasonable, and at every choice the reasonable step will take you closer to your extermination. That is the choice, die now or build your own gallows."
Helen was lying on her belly under the tool shed when a shout went up from the earth works team. Helen scrambled out from under the shed and rant to the edge of the hill that would eventually form the foundation to a quickly built motte and bailey fort. The workers had just walked into the center of the work site and the workers at the center that were yelling.
Helen wriggled between adults until she reached the center of the site, and stared in astonishment.
There was a large, crudely built wooden horse in the center of the motte. The wooden horse stood about ten feet at the horse's shoulder. The horse had been built with the wood that had been left behind at the work site. The sculpture looked ridiculous with a huge belly that the light shone through and clearly contained a chamber with something inside.
Around the horse's neck hung a cardboard sign that read 'Gift'.
None of the workers wanted to get too close to the horse. One of the guards approached the horse and walked around it at a distance of about ten feet. Finally the guard pulled out his sub-machine gun and, as workers ran for cover, sprayed nearly half his clip into the belly of the horse.
Nothing moved inside the horse and there was no sound once the gun was quiet. Then Helen noticed something and pointed at the bottom of the belly.
"It's leaking grain!" She called.
And indeed the horse was leaking grain out of the openings in the bottom of its wooden belly. The guard who had shot the horse grabbed a crowbar from a pile of tools and tore two boards from the horse's belly in short order and then reached in and threw two bags of grain out onto the ground. The bags had been punctured by multiple bullet holes and were leaking grain from their bullet wounds.
Tied to both bags were cardboard signs.
The bullets had mangled one beyond legibility, but the other clearly read, "We're already inside. Your grain was tasty, but I wouldn't eat any more."
The guard read the sign and quickly turned towards the workers. After a moment he pointed at a teenage boy named Niven.
"You, boy get over here."
Niven approached cautiously. The guard grabbed a handful of the grain and thrust it into Niven's hands.
"Eat it."
Niven stared at the grain in horror. His eyes darted between the grain and the guard's machine gun. Finally he drew his hands up to his mouth and put a small amount of the grain into his mouth and tried to chew. He gagged sharply and spat the grain onto the ground.
The guard rammed the butt of his gun into Niven's nose and blood flew as Niven toppled to the ground.
"I told you to eat it boy, not spit it out."
"It's been soaked in gasoline sir."
The guard cursed and began looking around wildly as though he was expecting an attack at any moment. After a minute or so he walked over to the other guards and they began talking quietly to each other. Helen could only catch parts of what was said.
"...has to be our gasoline. They're luddites about..."
"...where did they..."
"...all food compromised, do you think?"
Helen smiled to herself and slipped away from the site while the guards were engrossed in their conversation. She snuggled back into her spot under the tool shed. Somebody was fighting the guards, and they were scared. That made Helen very happy. There were still knights alive and fighting. The Wallace clan would not die on a gallows of their own construction. Helen hoped they were handsome. But more than that, Helen hoped that they would teach her the path of the knight.
* * *
Dolf's team consisted of himself and five others. There were three boys- Nugget, Ogre, and Pillbug, and two girls- Nana and Widow.
Nugget was dumb as a post and thin. He was stronger than he looked, but still not terribly strong. Despite his lack of wit, Nugget was the group's point man. He was fast as deer and nothing escaped Nugget's eyes. He was a master of anatomy, no matter the species, and could kill with the efficiency of a surgeon- only Dolf was a better killer. Nugget kept his head shaved and wore a loin cloth as his only clothing besides sandals and a Kevlar vest.
Ogre was as big as his name suggested. He was also smart enough that Dolf used Ogre as his right hand man and second-in-command. Ogre was slow and clumsy. He knew this, and hated his massive hands. Ogre played the part well, and only the group knew how clever he was. Ogre wore a huge metal breast plate and scavenged leather plates that heightened the effect his six foot seven frame had on people. He carried a huge wooden club; it wasn't for use as a weapon, but as a tool of interrogation.
Pillbug was even smaller than Nugget. His hair was a greasy blond that Pillbug kept in a scraggly ponytail. Pillbug was a scrawny youth who could hide anywhere and who was a better shot with a hunting rifle than most of Maxwell's snipers.
Nana was the group's medic and torture expert. She would have been attractive if she wasn't missing her right eye, lost in training pits. Nana kept her hair in a strawberry blond buzz cut. She dressed in a formal looking grey military uniform that she had bought in the Victoria market.
Widow was the toughest and capable of Dolf's team, and Dolf's unofficial lover. She dyed her hair black and braided it long down her back. Widow fought with two Tokarev pistols, and fought to win. She almost never spoke and enjoyed mutilating her male victims- hence her name.
The team was clustered around Dolf's desk when the report arrived from the work site. The office had belonged to local Camp Director, but Dolf had commandeered it after a quiet conversation with the director.
Dolf was quiet during the report, and after it was done Dolf simply told the messenger to inform the director and tell him to await further orders. After the messenger left, Nugget spoke.
"I don't pony this at all, Wolfman. Why take a britva and shive our toe, then brag about it?"
"They didn't shive our toe to attack us," Nana corrected, " They shived our toe to hurt us and make us creech. This is meant to show us that they can hurt us whenever they want to hurt us."
Ogre shook his head," Not us. This is meant to show the rank and file, as well as the prisoners, that the raiders can attack at will. It is meant to break faith in the leadership and to induce an uprising." Ogre, alone amongst the group did not try to speak like the characters from "A Clockwork Orange."
Pillbug looked around, "You said you know who these lewdies are Wolfman. So who are they?"
Dolf stood up, " The banda is called the Red Snow Raiders. Two of them are my brothers. And so my droogs, we have a very grazhny eegra ahead of us- A very dirty nasty game indeed."
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