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Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (36a/?)
Date: 2016-04-01 01:45 pm (UTC)Most of the town is already in the town square, blockaded in by the rest of the team--all with their faces covered, all with guns drawn, all silent except to cut off escape routes as people jostle into each other.
Photo is off on the front porch of the general store, camera in hand and eyes wide. She has a bandana over her face, but nothing else to obscure her identity.
Lucinda is bringing the last ones in--a couple farmhands, and elderly man who leans so heavily on his cane it’s a wonder he can move at all, and a farmer, who had fired off one round from his varmint rifle before Lucinda had tackled him to the floor, pinned him with a knee to the groin and a hand on his throat, dragged him back to his feet with a machete at his neck and marched him in front of his farmhands.
That makes everyone, as far as they can tell.
She sends Drummer out with scraps of pre-war clothing and her box of matches, directs her to the driest fields. In the middle of the crowd, someone yells, shushed by the people around her.
Lucinda hops up on top of a stack of boxes Runner and Tooth assembled into something like a platform.
“We’ll be running a lottery!” she calls out over the crowd. “Everyone over sixteen, to that side of the square,” she points to her left. “Everyone under sixteen, that way.” She points to her right.
People begin to sort out, but a handful of families linger in the middle, parents clinging to children. The boy with two brothers hugs both of them, casts a nervous glance up at Lucinda, doesn’t move even as the crowd around him thins.
“I have a baby!” the woman whose mother put up a fight calls. “She can’t live without me.”
“Hand her to him,” Lucinda picks someone at random, points at the boy---maybe twelve--who stands at the front of the under-sixteen side. “He’ll hold her until we’re done here.”
“But I don’t--” the woman starts, and the blood drains from her face as she meets Lucinda’s eyes, as Lucinda’s face fails to even twitch. She steps across the gap, and the boy comes up to her, holds out his arms. She arranges him, passes the baby down, presses her palm to the top of the baby’s head.
Next to the general store, Dredge’s baby sets up a wail. Another follows suit, and then a toddler begins to cry.
“Twist, how many adults do we have?” Lucinda calls to Twist, who pauses a moment, taps out her fingers.
“We have sixty, even, ma’am.”
“Burn, how many dice do you have?”
“Two, ma’am,” Burn replies.
“Count the adults into ten groups of six, and then bring the dice to me.”
“Yes ma’am,” goes the soft chorus, and with some shuffling, Dredge starts pointing people around. Drummer comes trotting back, a column of smoke rising from the fields in her direction, and she joins Dredge.
The crowd is silent, except for the crying babies.
Lucinda keeps her gun poised.
Burn brings the dice up, and Drummer counts out the groups--one, two, three, up to ten.
Lucinda rolls the dice, studies the numbers for a moment, looks to the groups of people huddled together, counts. Looks down at the dice again.
“Are your dice loaded, Burn?” she asks, voice low.
“All roll the same dice, doesn’t do me good to load the dice if everyone rolls the same,” Burn replies, fiddles with the fraying button cover of her heavy canvas jacket.
Lucinda looks back at the huddled townspeople, meets the old woman’s eyes.
Say They Fear Her (f!courier/siri) (dubcon, referenced noncon) (36b/?)
Date: 2016-04-01 01:48 pm (UTC)Stares at the old woman, the farmer, the man who tried to punch her, the boy with two brothers, the ghoul with the pistol, the caravan guard, as they all stare back at her, some resigned--the farmer, the the caravan guard, the boy--and some near-incandescent--the old woman, the man who tried to fight, the ghoul.
“Group seven, your number rolled. Line up here,” Lucinda orders, points to the open patch of dirt in front of her platform. Side by side, face away from me.”
“Boss,” Photo starts, and Dredge rounds on her before she can say anything else, taps one finger against her own lips and points for Photo to go stand in the alley between the general store and the house next to it. Photo scowls, doesn't move, and Dredge nods once, slowly, turns her back.
Group seven slowly walks to where they were instructed, lines up.
The caravan guard stands at one end, the ghoul next to her, the farmer next to him, the man who took a swing next to him. The boy-- barely-man, Lucinda corrects herself, can’t think of him as a boy and still do this-- stands next to the old woman, second to last in the line.
She considers for a moment, then hops down off her box, lines herself up behind the caravan guard. Raises her gun, takes aim.
Boom, lever down, case ejected, lever up.
A single step to her right, lines the gun up again, ignores the crying from the under-sixteens, the gasps from the adults. The ghoul doesn’t move, stays standing stock-still, hands at his side.
Boom, lever down, case ejected, lever up.
A single step to her right. Can see the farmer’s jaw twitch, his hands clench. He twitches, not enough to throw her off.
Boom, lever down, case ejected, lever up.
A single step to her right. He’s crying, tears running down his cheeks and dropping into the dirt. The crying is coming from everyone, now, sniffles and strangled sobs, gasps as someone tries to pull in enough air that it won’t come out as a cry.
Boom, lever down, case ejected, lever up.
A single step to her right. He’s holding the hand of the old woman next to him. He raises one hand, waves to his brothers, and Lucinda can see him smile. He waves at his brothers, gestures for them to turn around, as they watch with wide eyes. She waits until they do to raise her gun.
Boom, lever down, case ejected, lever up.
A single step to her right. Photo is sobbing now, camera raised, hands shaking so bad that whatever photograph she gets will be a jagged, smeary mess. The old woman crosses her arms, raises her chin, scowls at the horizon.
Boom, lever down, case ejected, lever up.
Lucida turns and hops back up onto her box. Doesn’t look at the corpses in front of her, their bodies splayed, their heads pulped, blood pooling, running together and snaking its way away from Lucinda’s platform.
The rest of her team is watching her, eyes wide, mouths set.
“Round everyone up, take them to the barn.” She points toward the the other end of town. “They’ll stay there until the men get here to deal with them.
“Sure thing, Boss,” Burn agrees, nods, turns around to face the crowd as she drops the dice back into her pouch.
The rest of the team herds the crowd of people--merging back together, parents huddling with their children, someone taking charge of the two boys without a caretaker--over toward the barn, as Lucinda stands on her platform and watches them go.