He heard it again, a soft crunch of ground. The grass was dead, and there was frost on it, making it brittle. A slow deadly smile crossed his face. Those two assholes came back. They should have listened and moved on. He moved slowly, careful with each foot fall. If he could hear them, they would hear him. His eyes narrowed and scanned for any movement. He knew they were heading to the coop. They’d get a shitty surprise. Milly had put a lock on the door, a broad smile stretched across his face. He moved closer to the coop. He was now crouched down, so his silhouette would not be seen. The thrill of the hunt thrummed through his veins.
He heard the soft sigh of the chicken yard gate opening. He could now see two forms, bent at the waist, moving slowly. Their arms were waving in front of them. One of them kicked a rock and it bounced noisily across the chicken yard. One of them hissed softly in warning and both froze. He did as well. He couldn’t tell if they were looking around, so he didn’t move. He waited until he saw movement. He moved in on them.
There was a rattling of a door and the metal lock and hasp.
“It’s fucking locked.” One of the men hissed in a low voice.
“What the fuck are we supposed to do now?” The other whispered harshly. Quinn moved quietly into place.
“Fuck it. We break into the goddamn house and we’ll kill them all. Then, we sit back and eat like kings.” The man answered, a low laugh disappearing into mist.
There was a wood pile, Quinn crouched behind it. He’d wait until the men came out of the chicken enclosure. It would be easier to drag their bodies away. He aimed his weapon and waited. He felt no grief, nor remorse about killing these men, nor would he. It was now a simple equation. Their world had substantially changed. These men were a threat to Laura and the girls. He knew he was falling in love with Laura, how could he not? She had a quiet sense of humor and kindness about her. She also had the toughness of Milly. A soft smile creased his face at the thought.
Laura was married though, to a man who’d never come home. How could he? He knew she had hope, but both he and Bart knew, Hogan would never make it back home. He might as well be dead. Laura would have to figure that out on her own. At first, the girls had asked about their father frequently, but now, not as much. It broke his heart when the girls didn’t understand why their father wasn’t coming home.
He’d seen the pain that crossed Laura’s face when they asked. It was a heartbreaking situation. Hogan was gone forever, but not dead. Quinn’s full attention was brought back when he heard the gate. Taking aim at the two figures coming through, he fired four rounds quickly, the explosive shots shattering the quiet night.
FOUR
Topeka, KS
Megan shivered beneath the wool blanket. Tilly’s body was throwing off heat, but it wasn’t nearly enough. They’d doubled their blankets and slept on the ground, side by side. Sleeping in the cot was impossible, and Megan was afraid she’d die in her sleep, frozen. There had been a number of deaths, many small children. The administrative body at the camp seemed ambivalent about it.
Megan turned over and spooned Tilly. Tilly groaned in her sleep and shifted her body closer to Megan. After a few minutes, Megan could feel warmth starting to penetrate her. They slept in their bright yellow coveralls. Their own clothing was not allowed, except for winterwear. To Megan, they all looked like convicts, walking around in yellow jumpsuits. They’d been told that laundry facilities were limited and wearing the ubiquitous yellow suits was easier to care for. Not only that, anyone in civilian attire stood out. As did the guards, who wore black coveralls with yellow florescent belts.
The Hive, which was what the structure was called, was made to resemble a beehive more so by the outfits the refugees wore. The refugees looked like worker bees, and though the construction crews had been hired by the owner of the land, all the refugees helped in some capacity. Twelve hours a day, that was their work schedule. They were fed in shifts, an oatmeal glop, tasteless and gummy, in the morning. Lunch, they were given MREs and dinner was a soup. It was barely enough food to keep them alive, let alone work a twelve-hour day. They were reminded how lucky they were to have food and shelter if they complained.
The construction ran 24/7 with shifts of construction crews and refugees. Each working group had a supervisor. They too wore the yellow coveralls but wore thick black belts to distinguish themselves. Once more the indelible image of worker bees and their busy work, Megan thought it was some kind of sick marketing plan. The Hive was rising fast. The structure was fifteen stories high. It was a dome like edifice and nearly conical shape. There were no windows on the first twelve stories. It was an obscene obelisk to her, a prison with no hope and no light. She didn’t want to appear ungrateful, because she was very grateful to have a place to live and eat. The work was punishing and the food lacking.
Today, the construction crew had started putting hexagon solar panels along each floor on the exterior. The wind
