An Interview with Corporal Oakenshield - Part 1

"Hello, and welcome to this Channel Eight Special Report. I'm Juanita Lopez, reporting live from Camp Jefferson, where to day, over a hundred refugees have been granted citizenship," said Juanita, as she help her microphone and looked straight into the camera. Behind her was the assorted tents and pre-fabricated buildings that made up the bulk of Camp Jefferson.

"As we all know, the first of the refugees started to appear five years ago. Camp Jefferson was started by the State of Jefferson as a temporary settlement facility while the source of the refugees could be discovered. One of the first of it's kind, Camp Jefferson stood as a model as the true magnitude of the refugee settlement issue came to light. Although originally run by the Department of Health and Human Services, it was absorbed into the Department of Homeland Security's refugee system in 2009, which was absorbed into the UN's system just last year. While this isn't the first batch of refugees to be granted citizenship, today's ceremony at Camp Jefferson was one of many across the nation, with nearly half a million refugees becoming US citizens at the same time today."

Juanita then began to walk slowly to her left, the camera panning right to follow her, "Today, I have the opportunity to interview one of the first refugee citizens, now serving in the US Marine Corps as a Corporal." As the camera pans, a stocky man in the digital camouflage uniform of the Marines comes into frame. He stands about a foot and a half shorter than Juanita. His hair is cut in a high and tight cut standard of Marines, and he wears a long, braided goatee, though the rest of her face is clean shaven.

Juanita stops moving, smiles into the camera, then turns to walk to a seat behind her and next to the stocky Marine. As the camera zoom to get the reporter and the Marine into the shot, his nametape comes into view. It reads "OAKENSHIELD".

"Corporal Oakenshield, thank you for joining us on the program today," says Juanita, half to the Corporal, and half to the camera.

"'Tis a pleasure to be 'ere lassie," speaks the Corporal in a thick brogue. Although the reporter is sitting, her remains standing, though now there's very little difference in their comparative heights.

"Thank you Corporal. So, if you don't mind, I'd like to start off with a simple question. How long have you been, well, on Earth?"

"That's a good question lassie. Yah see, Ah was one of the original refugees, so it's been about five years since Ah arrived on your Earth from m'oan," explains Corporal Oakenshield passionately. As he speaks the braid of his goatee moves back and forth and side to side. "Ah believe it was on tha fifth of July, two thousand sevan. Mah clan and Ah appeared deep in your Rockies."

"How many of you were there?"

"Thar were aboot three hundred men, women, and children, as well aboot as twice that in livestock."

"Wow, and why, for our viewers edification, did you come?"

"That's a long story lassie," he admitted, lessening his intensity. "It's not one that easy for us dwarves to talk aboot. But," and he paused for a few seconds, "it's one that needs to be told."

"Aboot fifty years ago, when Ah was but a wee lad, a great and powerful wizard began to terrorize the lands of the 'umans."

"Wait, sorry to interrupt, but fifty years ago? You don't look that old."

"We dwarves, we don't age as fast as you 'umans do. Ah'm almost to mah sixty-fifth, birthday as you 'umans call it."

"So, what do you dwarves call it?"

"We dwarves celebrate the anniversary of when we first came into being, in our mother's womb. So, by dwarven reckoning, Ah'm almost sixty-six."

"Wow, I guess you dwarves don't have a high opinion of abortions then?"

"We do not force our beliefs on you, just as you have not forced your beliefs on us. But no, we dwarves do not, as a rule, allow abortions. But, that's not why we're 'ere. We're 'ere to talk about where Ah and m'clan came from."

"Yes, sorry, do continue."

"Well, at first, the wizard, he focused on the 'umans, didn't bother us dwarves none. But, then, as we began accepted 'uman refugees, much like you 'umans here on Earth 'ave accepted us, the wizard, 'e starts to follow the 'umans."

"Being an 'onorable people, we fought back with as much as we could, but 'e had this plague. It wiped out 'uman and dwarf alike, and turned them into monsters. So, as we did our best to keep 'im and 'is forces at bay, the best and the brightest, 'uman and dwarf alike, worked at a way yo stop him and save our peoples."

"So, is that why you came here?"

"Yes. It was a 'alf-elf that came up with the initial plan. We would send our women, children, and their protectors to another world for safety while the rest of us fought the wizard and 'is monsters. Unfortunately, 'e worked faster than we did, and it was down to just three hundred dwarves, a dozen 'umans, and our livestock. We were defeated, but we had one more weapon. Since we could not destroy 'im. we deprived him of our bodies to bolster his forces. It was not the bravest thing to do, but it was the smartest, And something that we should have done years before, when we could 'ave saved more."

"But, you might have been the first, but you weren't the last."

"No, that was the 'alf-elf's idea as well. He stayed behind, and from what Ah've been able to gather, went ahead of the wizard's army as a messenger of 'ope. He gave the secrets of our escape to whomever would take it. We could not defeat the wizard in battle, but we could starve his army of replacements."

"Wow, that's a wonderful story. I'm glad we could share it with our viewers," she then turned away from the dwarf, and looked into the camera. "We'll be back with more of Corporal Oakenshield right after these messages."

The City of Auraria. The State of Jeffereson

One hundred forty-nine years and eleven days ago, on the First of November, 1858, the town of Auraria, in Kansas Territory was plated, three weeks before Denver City was plated on the other side of Cherry Creek. In the contemporary timeline, a year and a half later, Auraria, due to it's founder returning to Georgia to fight in the civil war, was absorbed into the growing Denver, and referred to as West Denver. A year before that, a referendum that would have created a draft constitution for the "State of Jefferson" was rejected, though nearly the same area was created as the Territory of Colorado in February of 1861, two months before the aforementioned absorption of Auraria into Denver.

Well, in my metaverse, it went differently.

Instead of returning to Georgia, William Russell decided to stay in Auraria. By staying in Auraria, the referendum for the State of Jeffereson, eventually accepted as the Territory and and then again the State of Jefferson was passed in October of 1859. The Capital was assigned to Golden, renamed to Jefferson City. Although Auraria didn't hold the seat of the Jefferson's government, it did become it's largest city, absorbing Denver in 1862.

History didn't change much, a name here, a different center of the grid system there, a relocated downtown district. Eventually a large change came about in the 1950s, when the origin point of the Interstate Highway system was assigned to the Atlantic Northeast, rather than the Pacific Southwest. Then, during the 1970s, the Metric system actually caught on, though certain elements of the older Imperial system stayed around in the common vernacular. A third nationwide warehouse store chain, Save-Co, and it's parent company, Save-Corp, which diversified from a PMC with the chain in the 1980s.

Oh, yeah, and the superheroes. Can't forget them.

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 7

Robert shook his head as he left Melissa Eldridge behind and ventured, for the second time that day, into the Save-Co. It seemed that everyone was gathered around the TVs, and not knowing what else to do, walked over.

It wasn't just the two-dozen or so people from the parking lot, but also the employees of the Save-Co that were gathered around the TVs. As Robert saw that the TVs were showing the news, he huffed, "Entire communications network my ass." As he got closer, he began to hear the murmurs of the crowd as the customers and the employees mixed.

"An invasion."

"Zombies."

"Fucking bullshit."

"Who are these people?"

"Corporate stooges."

"End of the world."

"Right out of the movies."

"What's with the guns?"

"Mercenaries."

"Nukes."

"Is this happening everywhere?"

"What about my kids?"

"But I've got work tomorrow."

"I've got work tonight."

"Why aren't the phones working?"

"But the TVs still work."

"Where are the Heroes?"

"Electricity?"

"Water?"

"Police?"

"War?"

The conversations jumped from topic to topic. Robert listened, gathered the information, sorted it, but did not say anything. He was already forming plans in the back of his mind. Already scheming to go home. To his dogs.

Then, from behind him, at the entrance, he began to hear conversations on another topic.

"The perimeter is nearly secure. Four more minutes and the fences will be complete."

"Good, once the fences are up, get all the cars inside the perimeter, use the fork lift."

"But what about them?"

"It'll all become clear, but only once the perimeter is secure. And don't forget about the roof emplacements."

"Yes ma'am."

The conversation was between Melissa, the administrator, and one of the black-clothes men. Like the one that had collected Robert at his truck minutes before, maybe even the same one. The only ones he had actually identified were Melissa and Jessica. The other twenty-five were just faceless soldiers.

Robert looked back to the civilians, the group that had expanded in his mind to encompass both the employees and the customers. They had grown silent. He looked at the TV screens. It showed the infamous podium at the White House, where the President spoke.

He walked on-screen, and the blue background flashed white as the press began to take pictures. He stepped behind the podium, and cleared his throat. The flashes died down, but did not stop.

"My fellow Americans. I address you now in an hour of grave terror. Approximately one hour ago, though means that we are still unsure of, groups of creatures, which resembled fictional monsters such as zombies or ghouls, began appearing in cities around the globe." As he spoke, the upper-left corner of the screen began to show similar scenes of grey-skinned people amassing in such landmarks as Times Square, outside Westminster Palace, under the Eiffel Tower, Saint Peter's Square, Mecca, The Taj Mahal, Tiananmen Square, and others.

"Right now they do not appear to be violent, but their sudden appearance has caused panic. I came to you now, to assure you, the American people, that you are safe. This invasion, whatever it may be, will be stopped by our brave men and women of the Armed Services." Now the upper corner showed file footage scenes of Army soldiers, Marines, Navy sailors, and Air Force airmen going about their jobs.

"So please, return to your homes. Let our brave soldiers do their jobs in containing this invasion. Thank You all, and God Bless America."

The TV then changed shots and showed an arial view of Civic Center Park in Downtown Auraria, and the assembling National Guard troops bolstering the existing Police officers surrounding the park and the horde. The horde was stationary, and wasn't doing anything except standing there, close together, and appearing to be rotting.

"Kill 'em," shouted someone in the assembled civilians around the TVs. "Kill 'em all."

Just then, the camera whipped around and showed a lone man attempting to break though the ring of soldier and police. He wore older camouflage fatigues and his beard was long and grey. He struggled forwards, and then, in a split second, pulled a rifle from one of the soldiers and fired it into the horde. The camera focused on the target, who was now missing a shoulder. The horde didn't appear to react at first, except when the camera refocused on the gunman. The zombies closest to him were now pushing against the soldiers, tearing at their uniforms and guns, reaching for flesh, and ripping any they found.

Then, the drone of the helicopter was broken, but not by anyone in the warehouse, but instead, but the reporter in the helicopter. It was one word, but it echoed through the Save-Co.

"Fuck."

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 6

"Lockdown?" asked Selma. "What do you mean 'Lockdown'?"

Ms. Eldridge sighed, "I'll explain it when everyone is here. Hand me a phone, put it on the intercom." Selma walked over, grabbed the phone, and a slight click resounded through the Save-Co as Selma walked the handset over to Ms. Eldridge.

"Here you go," Selma said, matter-of-factly. The microphone in the handset picked up a bit of it and it echoed through the store, resulting in a slight squawk.

"Attention Save-Co employees. This is Ms. Eldridge, Save-Corp District Supervisor. All employees please report to the electronics department. I repeat, all employees please report to the electronics department."

Ms. Eldridge passed the handset back to Selma, a shocked expression on the photo tech's face. She then shook her head, and rushed the handset over to the phone, forgetting to release the connection. The resulting squawk was not only louder, but echoed back and forth throughout the store. Selma looked up and saw both Ms. Eldridge and Rupert glaring at her, "Oops."

Less than a minute later all of the employees were gathered in the electronics department, a call from corporate management causing all of them to rush. Half of them were out of breath, but they were all there.

Selma, along with Rupert, stood at the front of the group, closest to Ms. Eldridge, and the bank of HD TVs behind her.

"I'm sorry to call you all out here on such sort notice," began Ms. Eldridge. "As of right now, this store is on lockdown. We've escorted all of the customers that were in the parking lot to the entrance. In about a minute, we're going to be letting them in. Now, the circumstances of why my team and I are here will become evident shortly. For the next few days, if not longer, we will be administering the facility. Once the situation has stabilized, we, and I mean all of you, all of the customers, and my team and I, will come up with a solution then. I'm going to go talk with the customers. Once they come in, I'm going to need all of you to calm and reassure them. They will be scarred, and as Save-Co employees, and representatives of Save-Corp, you will need to be brave and support them."

Ms. Eldridge then nodded, and made her way around the assembled employees. Selma looked to Rupert, "Wait, what does she mean by 'situation'?"

Rupert shrugged.

The rest of the employees began to mumble amongst themselves, but were suddenly silenced. Selma turned and looked at the bank of TVs. On it was a live news broadcast.

"This is Ronald Simms, with Channel Eight News. We're live above Downtown Auraria," came the voiceover. The TV showed a shaky camera shot from above of a large park. The bottom third of the screen pronounced that the shot was of "Civic Center Park". The park was full of milling bodies. The shot zoomed in, showing the face of one of the people in the park.

"This," Ronald stuttered, "This is out of horror movies. I never thought I'd see this in real life."

As the shot focused, the employees behind Selma gasped. The woman in the center of the screen's face was pale, eyes white, but that was not the horrific part. Her jaw was missing.

"Holy Shit," exclaimed Selma, "Fucking Zombies."

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 5

Selma quickly looked around for a manager, leaning on the counter so that she could look around the end of the photo department and down the side aisle. She didn't see any, and there weren't any customers nearby. So, she slipped her left hand into the pocket of her slacks, and pulled out her cell phone.

"No signal?" she said to herself. She was sued to getting crappy reception. She worked in a big concrete and steel building. The radio waves that made cell phones work had a bitch of a time making it in. It didn't help that the Save-Co was one of dozens of stores, including another warehouse store, two home improvement warehouses, two office supply stores, and two or three dozen smaller stores and restaurants served by the same cell tower. But usually it was just one or two bars of service and a crappy connection, not and outright outage.

She tucked the cell back into her pocket and walked around from the counter to the photo printer. She removed the roll of negatives she had just printed, and swapped it out for a fresh roll. She quickly looked through all the pictures, smirked at the nearly pornographic nature of some of them, then left the machine to print in peace.

She looked beyond the photo counter now, out onto the sales floor of the Save-Co.

Like most warehouse stores it had all the high ticket electronics right next to the entrance, with a large open area in the center of the store for rotating clothing and media sales, and two large areas of shelves on either side of the center area. The photo counter was just off the electronics department, and so, if she stood at the farthest corner of the counter, could get a good view of the banks of high definition TVs that the Save-Co sold.

Right now all two dozen of them, at least judging by the dozen that were facing the photo counter, were playing through the generic loop that showed the various features of HD over the old standard-def TVs. It was something that she had seen hundreds or more times since she started working in the photo department a few months earlier.

As she looked, her gaze wandered to the other areas of the store, and she stood of straight. For the first time since she worked at the Save-Co, there wasn't any customers to be seen. Even when they were closing there was usually a straggler or two that had to be reminded of normal business hours, but never in the middle of the day.

"Hey, Rup," she said, addressing the greeter at the door. Rupert was an older man, working a job to pay for her retirement. Selma liked him, as they wold talk during the slow times of day, like they were now.

"Yeah Selma?" replied the greeter.

"You seen any customers?"

"Nah, last ones just left," he replied. He then gestured with his right hand, which was holding a simple thumb-operated counter, "Unless I missed one coming in."

"Never," Selma sarcastically replied. She then leaned on the counter, "I wonder where they all are. Maybe the world ended and nobody told us." She chuckled, then shuddered and a tingle ran up her spine.

Just then Selma could see a black SUV pull up in front of the entrance. And then a black cherry picker, like the phone company uses, pulled in front of it, blocking the entrance on the side of the liquor store, but leaving the side next to the tire center open.

"Whoa," Selma remarked. "Who do they think they are?"

As she said that, the doors on both the SUV and the cherry picker opened, and out stepped what looked to Selma like a a dozen ninja-mercenaries.

One of them, obviously a woman, walked from the SUV towards the door. She was wearing a black mask over her face, but as she reached the door she pulled it off. She was old, though not as old as Rupert, at least in Selma's opinion. She strode with authority, and reached into one of the pocket on her vest as she walked into the store.

"Welcome to Save-Co," said Rupert. "I'm going to have to ask you to put your gun back in your truck. We don't allow them inside the store." Always the professional, Rupert addressed the heavily armed woman like she was a customer not wearing any shoes, another thing not allowed at Save-Co.

The woman held out a plastic card, which had her picture on it, and the Save-Co logo. From her vantage point, Selma thought it looked like an employee ID card. "Melissa Eldridge, I'm from corporate. Can you get your manager?"

A man dressed in black like Ms. Eldridge walked past her and into the store. Rupert, knowing management when he saw it, let the man pass without comment. Selma watched the man walked towards the checkout lanes, and then towards the front wall. Only when the man stopped did Selma realize what he was doing. He was hitting the emergency shutoff for the gas station at the other end of the parking lot.

"Why did he do that?" Selma asked out loud.

"Because," commented Ms. Eldridge as she waited for the manager to arrive, "we're going on lockdown."

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 4

The broken asphalt of the bailey crunched beneath his feet as he walked away from the shade and into the light. He could hear the tink tink of the smiths along the west side of the keep, as well as the rumble of the mill to his left, in the middle of the bailey. He looked around to make sure no one was coming over to talk to him, then turned towards the gate, which was just west of the mill, and broke into a jog.

As he covered the hundred feet or so, he thought back to when he was beginning his job as quartermaster, back when the fort was still being established. It was a pre-war building, and he had been a fairly regular customer. In fact, he was here when the founders secured the fort the day of the invasion.

He stopped about halfway between the keep and the gate, and looked around. As he compared the landmarks he nodded and talked to himself, “Yeah, it was just about here. I was loading up my truck, probably with bottled water and dog food. And then they just rolled up like they owned the place.” He chuckled, “Well, in a way, they did.”

---

Robert hefted the twenty-four pack of bottle water from the flatbed into the bed of his truck, then pushed it forwards into the bed of the truck. He turned to pick up the twenty pound bag of dog food when he stopped.

Half bent over he looked over the back side of the flatbed and saw half a dozen vehicles drive into the parking lot one, right after, the other. He stood, pushing his hat up to wipe his forehead, using the action to get a better look at the trucks entering the lot.

The lead truck was a black, late model SUV with tinted windows and a whole slew of antennas along it’s roof and rear bumper. Behind it was a black passenger van, fifteen passengers at least, also with as many antennas as the SUV in front of it. The SUV turned and headed for the store entrance, stopping on the concrete in front of the main doors. The Van turned the opposite direction and parked parallel to the street in the second row of parking spaces.

Behind the van was a utility truck, but it wasn’t from any of the local utilities, as it was painted black like the others, and had it’s own complement of antennas. It followed the SUV up to the front entrance and parked just past it, next to the liquor store entrance.

Behind the cherry-picker truck was a pair of moving trucks, black with antennas. They both parked behind the van. The final truck to enter the parking lot was a semi pulling a flatbed loaded with construction vehicles. Robert identified a pair of Bobcat skid loaders, a backhoe, and an extendable fork lift.

Robert stood in awe as the semi pulled past the van and moving trucks, and consequently right past him and his little flatbed before pulling around and stopping between the other vehicles and the road.

“What the?” was all Robert could say before all the doors opened, and his world changed.

In less than five seconds twenty-seven men and women exited the half-dozen vehicles. They were all dressed alike, from their black combat boots, to their side arms, to the MP5s hung across their chests. They also wore black balaclavas with sunglasses and radio headsets.

The four occupants, three men and a woman, of the SUV and the mixed pair from the cherry picker began working at the entrance, setting up some sort of command point from the back of the SUV. From what Robert could tell from his angle, the back of the SUV was set up with at least a dozen flat-screen monitors.

A second group, consisting of the mixed pairs from the moving trucks and the semi as well as five from the van, began working to off-load the semi and the contents of both trucks. Robert would have paid more attention to them, if it wasn’t for the actions of the final group.

The actions of the final group were unified only in that the pairs were doing the same thing in different parts of the parking lot. Robert remarked to himself that the pairs, heck the whole lot of them, were surprisingly mixed given the obvious offensive nature of the whole operation. The ten that remained split into five groups and spread out from the van out among the sparse cars of the lot.

As Robert watched the pair coming towards him, he thought that it was rather odd how little cars were actually in the lot itself. He looked around and quickly counter less than two dozen, all of them with people by them. He then looked behind him, to the highway that the store was so conveniently placed near, and saw the on-ramps clogged full of cars. It seemed that the noise barrier was doing a spectacularly good job, as only as he paid attention did he notice the cacophony of honks and horns coming from the interstate.

“What the?” he said, repeating his earlier cryptic exclamation. He was about to make a wise-ass comment when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He spun around and saw the pair that had been approaching him had finally made it while he was gawking at the traffic.

“Sir?” asked the one on the left. She was taller than Robert by about an inch, and had removed her sunglasses. Her partner beside her took a much more offensive posture, with his right hand resting on the grip of his MP5.

“What?” asked Robert, partly annoyed and partly bewildered.

“Sir,” said the one of the right. Unlike his partner, his was not in an inquisitive fashion.

“We’ll need you to come with us sir,” his partner added. She turned slightly and gestured to the store itself, he brilliant blue eyes looking to the entrance, and then back to Robert before he head could follow.

“What?” stammered Robert. He took a half-step back and nearly fell into the back of his pickup. “What are you doing here?”

“Sir, we’re here for your protection,” said the one on the right, his hand gripping the MP5 more intensely. “As my partner said, we need you to come with us. We have to get you inside.”

“Why?”

“Sir, there’s a situation. We’re here to help, but to help you, we need you to cooperate,” she said. Even though only her eyes were exposed, Robert got the impression that she was trying to be nice, but that he was trying her patience.

“Okay, just let me…” Robert began.

The man reached out and grabbed Robert’s arm, “No, we need you to move now. We have to secure the site, and we can’t do that until you’re inside.”

Robert tried to protest, tried to rip his arm out of the other man’s grip, but it was no use. So, he relented and began to walk towards the store entrance, the man letting him go as he cooperated.

“Thank you sir,” said his partner, the smile on her face evident in her tone.

“It’s Robert.”

“Well, thank you Robert. I’m Jessica.”

“And him?”

“I’m none of your concern, Bob,” he replied curtly.

“It’s Robert,” growled Robert, obviously used to, and annoyed, but people constantly trying to contract his name.

The man raised his eyebrows above the tops of his sunglasses and tilted his head, wordlessly telling Robert that he didn’t care. The trio quickly got to the entrance, along with a dozen other people and their herder. They milled around aimlessly at the entrance to the store before someone came out. It was the woman who got out of the SUV a few minutes before, though her balaclava was pulled down, allowing her short cropped raven hair to show. She was in her late thirties, the same age as Robert, and hand an air of authority about her.

“Welcome to your new home,” she said, a smile on her face and her arms open wide. “I know this is difficult to understand, but at least for the foreseeable future, you all are going to be staying here.”

The civilians began to murmur, but she stopped them with by clearing her throat. By now the herders had returned with the final store patrons who were in the lot, making for a total of two dozen civilians, ranging in age from twelve to fifty, with Robert’s thirty-eight on the high side of the median.

“You all were, are, very lucky to be here. An hour ago, the improbable, but not unforeseen, event of an invasion occurred. While you were here shopping the entire communications network of the world, from the internet, to the telephone, was shut down by an outside force. This, predictably, caused a great deal of panic. Luckily, the agency I work for had a plan for such an emergency, and within that hour we, my team and I, were sent here to secure this site. We will not run out of food, and in time, you all will be allowed to find and if you want, return with your families. But, as of right now, we need all of you to calmly come inside where it is safe and secure.”

“Who are you?” shouted one of the assembled civilians. Robert couldn’t see the man who asked the question, but the same question was on his mind as well.

“My name is Melissa, and I’m the administrator for this facility. In time, I hope that we can become friends, but for now, I need you to all go inside,” she replied,. She stepped to the side, and the civilians, all two dozen of them, slowly and calmly, entered the store. Robert was the last to go in, and stopped to look Melissa in the eye and ask her a question.

“Who are you, really?”

She looked him over, then smiled. Robert knew that smile, it screamed bureaucracy, “I’m the woman who just saved your life.”

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 3

Robert grabbed his hat, a wide brimmed suede heat with a tall indented crown, which he had always called his ‘outback’ hat. He set it on his head, and strode towards the door. The door, which was once an automatic sliding glass door, was now a heavily reinforced sliding wood door. He gripped the handle, which was on the left side of the door, with his right hand, and pulled it open.

The bright daylight streamed into the much darker storeroom, and Robert shielded his eyes momentarily with his left hand as they acclimated. He stepped over the threshold and looked around. The area outside the storeroom had once been a portico protecting the entrance from the weather, now it served at the guard for both the storeroom and the main keep, low brick wall funneling people through the checkpoint, and protecting the keep from those who would attack it from within.

Robert nodded to one of the guards as he reached around with his left arm behind his back to close the door he came through. The guard, Selma, nodded to him. She had one of the requisitioned M16s resting on a slight across her chest as she guarded the keep’s portico.

“Hey Bob!” she shouted in greeting.

Robert cringed slightly. He hated being called Bob. He felt that his position warranted more respect than that, not to mention the large gold star sewn upon the chest of his shirt.

“Hey Selma,” he replied with a smile, not letting his aggravation show. “How’s it going today?”

“Well,” she replied, nodding. “Very well.” She nodded at Robert, “So, what with the rifle boss?”

Robert smiled, finally getting the respect he thought, knew, he deserved. “Oh, just searching for something. Might have to leave the Fort, so I thought I’d be prepared.”

Selma raised her eyebrows, “Ah, well, I’ll make sure to tell anyone you’re out if they stop by.”

Robert nodded to her as he began to turn away, “You do that Selma, you do that.” As he stepped out from under the portico his eyes finally adapted to the light, and he looked out upon the bailey. “Twelve years,” he said to himself. “Twelve.”

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 2

Robert paged through the forms, removing all the requisitions, whether open or closed, for M16A2 rifles. There were eighteen from the last year, as far back as he kept records before having to recycle the parchment forms.

He took the eighteen sheets of parchment, and sorted them as he walked around the desk and towards the weapon's locker. By the time he arrived he had sorted the eighteen forms into open and closed requisitions, nine of the former, and nine of the latter. He unlocked the locker and stepped pass the crates of ammunition to the weapon's racks.

His eyes swept past the pistols and crossbows and settled on the rifle racks. They were wooden, like everything in the warehouse, and contained a variety of weapons. He kneeled down, so as to not look at the hunting rifles, and focused on the twenty slots he had cut over a decade ago for the M16A2 rifles. There were ten rifles there, which meant he hadn't miscounted earlier.

He looked through the open requisitions and matched the serial numbers to the matching empty slots, then matched the closed requisitions and matched the serial numbers to the matching rifles. There was one rifle remaining, when there should have been two. He checked the serial number of the missing rifle and noted it on his worksheet.

"Okay, so, someone took a rifle without requisitioning it," he said to himself as he removed the tenth rifle, the one that hadn't been requisitioned during the previous year. He then slung it over his shoulder and picked up the forms as he stood up.

He turned and grabbed a magazine of rounds before locking the weapon's locker behind him.

He stopped, shook his head, slung the rifle over his shoulder, and strode over to his desk. He opened the drawer, and removed one of the yellowed, yet still usable, requisition forms. He took out a pen, something that the council hadn’t begun to ration, yet, and quickly wrote up his recent transaction.

“Purpose?” he asked himself as he got to the final line of the form. He smirked to himself and began to write, “Reacquisition of lost supplies.”

Fort Save-Co - Chapter 1

Robert checked his inventory worksheet against the hard copy inventory book. For the last year he had painstakingly kept the inventory book accurate with his weekly inventories, comparing counts plus requisitions versus the inventory book, and then updating the record.

For most things, including food, the records weren't very accurate when compared week to week. People weren't as exacting as he was, and the council didn't care if the warehouse was short a half cup of lentils.

For others, like the firearms he was currently comparing, the records were accurate to a single round, a single magazine, a single replacement part. The council insisted on it, and it was the tracking of the weapon and armor supplies that his position had initially been created to do. Eventually, as there were more and more mundane items to keep track of, the duty of keeping inventory was added, until Robert was in charge of keeping track of every single consumable and tool that the council had to track.

It was also his last day on the job. Starting next week Jane, who was twenty years his junior, was to take over. He had done the job since it was created by the council twelve years before, and since he had reached fifty years in age, it was time for him to join the council itself, rather than just working for them.

He then looked to the next item in the record book. "Rifle, M16A2," he said aloud to himself. He then looked across the page to last week's entry, "Eleven." He then frowned, and looked at his worksheet.

"Ten?"

That didn't make sense.

"Okay Rob, breathe. It's probably just a miscount. Or you forgot to count a requisition form."

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then side-stepped to the left to look at a neat stack of requisition forms.

He picked up the top form, it was for ten 5.56 mm rounds, a normal requisition. He then looked up at the date, and frowned again. "That's over a week ago. Maybe they're out of order?"

He quickly paged through the forms. They weren't out of order.

"Okay, time to double-check with a mark one eyeball.”