The Interloper

Hannah

In Bar Claims, most of the inhabitants were female. That was quite common in the Central and Eastern United regions, which was why the Male Trade companies flourished as much they did. Scientists had tried to explain the decline in male live births, but for most of us, it hadn’t made any sense. The brass tacks of it was that something had gone wrong in human genetics (and there were countless theories about that), resulting in a Ninety-seven percent decline in healthy male births. Simply put, the human race had begun to die off. While the Western regions had been affected by this plight, it had not ravaged them as hard; thus, male stock was derived from those areas and transplanted to other regions to reinforce their breeding capabilities. The business had its moral implications, of course; (it was, after all, considered human trafficking) but the majority of these men had signed contracts and were being compensated for their service. In the government’s eyes, they were merely donors.

In poor towns like Bar Claims, about one of every thirteen births was a male. Of those, only half were healthy births. Sadly, many of those infants failed to thrive or died of mysterious illness. Men were not exported here from other areas; they were typically sent to the wealthier, metropolitan areas.

Life here was hard. Women had acclimated to the harder tasks- farming and mining, in addition to child rearing (inbreeding had also become a problem). Wars were fought by women. Those of us who had male relatives suffered greater stress, as traffickers tended to circulate through the regions collecting Males to sell off to the highest bidders; since they offered finders fees, your neighbors became your enemies when they were hungry enough.

My brother Jason and I had just completed our day in the tunnels. Bar Claims was a mining town, its resources exhausted for the most part, but we mined it anyway, in the hopes of stumbling upon something useful. Our mother, Rita, passed away last Sunday. She’d been a house servant to a wealthy family back East, and when she’d learned of her pregnancy with Jason (the result of a forced union with her employer, she’d said) she fled to a more remote area of the United regions. She’d suspected Jason was a boy, and she wanted him safe. Jason was four years older than I, and good-looking. He stood six feet tall with broad shoulders and dark hair and eyes. He wore a good-natured smile and was gentle with others. He’d taken on the male role in our family early on, but he never seemed to resent doing it.

The circumstances of my own conception were a mystery. As forthcoming as our mother had been about Jason’s parentage, she’d been strangely close-mouthed about mine. I’d been born and raised here in Bar Claims, and mining and farming were all I had ever known. I’d grown up covered in soot and mud, and bathing in the river. People said I was pretty, too. I had inherited our Mother’s deep red hair and bright green eyes. I wore it long and tied back, though most women cut theirs short to accommodate their livelihoods. I had a light smattering of freckles along my cheeks and the bridge of my nose.

Now that Mother was gone, it was just Jason and me.

Jason and I traipsed into the house, a modest little farmhouse with a barn just East of it, where we kept our two goats, our horse Mellie, a half dozen chickens and the cow. We sold dairy and produce in the markets and traded pelts that Jason provided. We weren’t a family of means, but we had what we needed most of the time. Jason shed his boots by the door and washed his hands. I’d begun to assemble the ingredients for our evening meal. The sun had begun its slow descent on the horizon, and I made a mental note to get everything ready for the market tomorrow. Wednesdays were market days in Bar Claims.

“I’m going to be putting in a little extra time over at the Medical House,” Jason informed me over our meal. Jason, Mother and I had volunteered whatever free time we could give to the ‘Medical House’, the small hospital substitute here in town. Jason had dreams of becoming a Doctor, though how he could ever accomplish a dream like that was beyond me.

“Doctor Reddick is still tutoring you?” I asked, spooning some soup into my mouth.

Jason nodded. Doctor Lori Reddick was our resident Physician here, a transplant from a larger city up North. Reddick was not much older than Jason’s twenty-three years, and lovely in her own way. I suspected that she and Jason were doing more than examining patients, but that was not my concern.

“I can handle the market on my own,” I advised him sourly. I knew my jealousy was not justified; Jason had cared for me and Mother for as long as I could remember. He had abandoned most of his own dreams to do it. Still, the thought of him becoming close with another female was terrifying- the truth was, I could not stand the thought of my brother leaving me. He was all I had left.

Market Day

Jason was gone when I rose. I loaded the pelt, the cheese and the produce onto the small handcart Jason had made a few years ago. The hike into town wasn’t a long one, and it was best to get there before sunrise. I made my way down the river bank and followed it South toward the town square. The horizon glowed a soft purple, and the birds chirped in earnest. It was Spring so the air was cool and crisp. I’d considered taking Millie but the trip wasn’t long and thieves were a problem.

Just as I climbed the last hill and acquired a view of the town below me, thundering hooves approached me from my right, closing in fast. My heart hammered as I glanced back, taking them in. I recognized their armor, crudely made but strong all the same, and masks that obscured their faces. I’d seen them before, when they’d raked through our little town six years ago, stealing the brothers and sons of Bar Claims. They’d returned, and this time there was no hiding Jason. Panic seized me as I pulled the knife I carried from my boot and crouched low, ready to spring. Though they rode horses, I could strike out at one of them, maybe engage them long enough to send a warning. Bar Claims had a warning system established for the trafficker raids, but someone had to spot them and ring the bell in time.

The masked men must have anticipated trouble; they veered off into the trees, cutting through them at a great speed, and heading straight for the town.

The cart forgotten behind me, I ran toward the square. I could hear the screams before I got there, and saw the first of the fires lit. Raiders were merciless. They charged through unsuspecting towns and cities raping and pillaging, stealing the males away for resale. Traffickers were equal parts male and female, but always brutal. I leapt over boulders and downed trees as I raced toward the Medical House. My lungs burned and my legs cramped with exertion, but I had to save my brother from these jackals. They’d set one house ablaze, from the looks of it, and were ransacking the market carts that had been set up already. Screams could be heard throughout, while women and children scurried into hiding. I prayed Jason would not engage these masked men, though I knew better. I had to make it there in time to prevent him.

Just as I leapt over the last rotted out tree trunk, my ankle rolled upon landing, and I was sent tumbling down the rocky slope toward the town square. I cried out as my extremities tangled beneath me, and my head impacted rocks and sticks of every size. Then blackness enveloped me.

Four Hours Later…

I woke up in the Medical House. I recognized the smell of it first, that clean, industrial aroma. A soft clicking sound to my right; one of the outdated medical devices used by Doctor Reddick. Someone whispered my name, a soft voice that I recognized. Mother?

I opened my eyes to see Dr. Reddick hovering over me. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her hair a tangled mess. My stomach flipped as I searched for my brother, who surely would be at her side. My lip quivered as I recalled the raiders and the burning houses.

“Jason?” I said, my voice pleading.

Reddick’s eyes filled with tears and her lips compressed to hold in her pain. She shook her head. Rage bubbled up suddenly, fierce and uncontrollable. I shot up from my bed, my head swimming and pounding, and my vision blurred. I could feel the bandage now, sticky with my blood, and I fought the impulse to vomit. Reddick had begun to advise me to lay down, but I dove at her instead, grabbing her hair and knocking her to the floor.

“Why didn’t you stop them!?” I exclaimed, and she shrieked and tucked into a ball as I rained down punch after punch, sobbing as I did so. Someone exclaimed at us from behind me but I paid them no mind, until a pair of arms snaked out around me and yanked me backward, tossing me to the side.

Dr. Reddick huddled on the floor, her shoulders sagging. I hadn’t done her much damage, but she cradled herself as though I had. Just as quickly as the rage had overcome my sensibilities, it left, and I collapsed into a heap on the floor, swallowed up in my own grief. Jason was gone.

Three Months Later…

I crouched in the underbrush of the forest, somewhere West of the Watering Hole. The Watering Hole was the product of two of the five smaller streams here, a favorite hunting place of Jasons’. It had been three months since my brother had been taken by traffickers, and the ache I felt had never dissipated. I'd gone after him that day, but his abductors hadn't left a trace behind them. After two days of fruitless searching, I'd had to turn back. I wondered about him often; where he was and if he was being treated well. I had never met a Fool (That was what they called the Men they sold) but I’d heard stories. Some of them existed in deplorable conditions; others lived like Kings. I hoped that Jason was the latter. The thought of my brother suffering in some confinement, being sold to others as breeding stock made me nauseous. I wanted to go after him again, but I had yet to learn where he’d gone. Surely someone had tipped off the raiders, told them to come on Market Day. Eventually I would discover who and follow the trail from there.

I froze as a twig snapped far to my right; a deer crept into the clearing, cautious and observant. I gripped my gun, a gift from Jason when I turned eleven. With him gone I was on my own, and that meant assuming the hunting and pelt duties. I no longer served in the Medical House- I couldn’t go back there, to the place where he had been abducted, couldn’t face Dr. Reddick, who’d hidden herself away as my brother protected the sick and dying there, losing his freedom in the process.

I inhaled slowly, preparing to take the shot. I would process and eat half of the meat myself and sell the rest at the market. The pelt would bring me a week’s worth of income. Just as I raised the gun to fire, someone else fired first, dropping the deer where he stood. I ground my teeth and remained undercover, fury bubbling up inside of me. I’d preempted, and I wanted to know by whom. A figure rose from the foliage cross from me, slowly limping toward his kill. His kill. The figure was a man. I caught my breath in my throat as I watched him kneel down, verifying the creature was dead. He wore an old coat and hunting boots, but his silhouette hinted that he was younger, and definitely not local. I panicked as I determined my own course of action- confront him for stealing my deer, or hide until he departed? Gripping my gun, I rose to face the poacher.

John Alec

I saw the woman rise from the bushes, her red hair secured and tossed over one shoulder. She wore a knit cap that was slightly too large for her head and a worn jacket similar to mine. Her eyes were a striking green that reminded me of the Ocean. She was average height and slim build, but she carried herself like a warrior. Though I would never utter it aloud, she reminded me of one of the goddesses I’d read about as a child.

She marched toward me, her gun gripped in her hand. I kept my own ready. One never knew what to expect of a stranger- or from your own friends, for that matter. The woman paused a few feet away from him, her eyes taking my measure. I arranged my expression into a pleasant one.

“Hello there,” I called. She hesitated, clearly trying to discern what her next move would be.

“Good morning. You’ll have to excuse me, I didn’t see you before.”

I wondered if she had also been hunting the deer, the one I had just shot.

“Excuse me, I hope I’m not poaching on your land.” My breath misted in front of me, and I rubbed my cold hands together. I’d traded my gloves, a desperate and necessary exchange

“No, it’s not my land,” she mumbled. “It’s considered a no man’s land.”

“I’m afraid I stole your deer, then,” I admitted. I wouldn’t tell her that he was just passing through. I couldn’t afford to stay anywhere long enough to get caught. My stomach grumbled suddenly, and I saw a flicker of sympathy in the woman’s eyes.

“Perhaps we can share it, then?” She said, tucking her gun away in her boot. I nodded and smiled, following suit.

“I’m John Alec,” I said, extending my hand. She folded her own into mine.

“A pleasure, John. My name is Hannah Croutch.”

“Pleasure, Miss Hannah.”

I glanced at her left ring finger surreptitiously; it was not common to find a married woman in the rural regions, and Hannah was no exception.

“Let’s get this stag butchered and cooked,” she suggested, stepping over to the dead animal.

Hannah led us back to her home on the hill, the stag on a rolling cart she’d brought along with her. The house was white clapboard with aged yellow shutters and a small porch. I glanced around for any indications that this could be a trap.

“Have a seat,” Hannah indicated, and I thanked her and perched on one of the three small chairs pushed up to the table in the kitchen. Hannah set to boiling water.

“You look cold,” she remarked, passing me a pair of gloves she’d retrieved from another room. The gloves were large enough for a man’s hands, and they’d seen some use.

“You aren't from Bar Claims,” she commented, pouring the water into a mug and inserting a tea bag into it. She set the steaming cup in front of me and prepared her own. She joined me a minute later with a loaf of bread and a small dish of home churned butter.

“Eat,” she commanded, slicing me a generous piece and slathering it with the butter. I thanked her and took a hearty bite- my first meal in two days. I closed my eyes and savored the flavor of it. Hannah watched, waiting for an answer.

“I am not from Bar Claims,” I agreed, as she wordlessly passed me another slice.

We ate in silence. Then, having reached some internal decision, she stood and made her way to the door and the dead stag.

“Well then- I suppose you should camp here for the night. We don’t see raiders too often in these parts, and our last visit was three months ago,” she said, her eyes misting over.

“If you'll help me gut this stag and skin it, I’ll cook it up and we can share the pelt?”

“That sounds like a fair deal, miss. Thank you.” I slid my cold fingers into the borrowed gloves and followed the woman outside to prepare supper.

Hannah

I chided myself as I sat across from the stranger, eating the deer he’d killed. I’d learned very little of him over the last few hours, but I suspected he was running from something. He carried nothing with him, not even gloves. He was lovely in a sheltered way, yet his dirty and slightly disheveled appearance indicated that he’d been traveling. I wanted to know more. I understood his secrecy, and I respected it. My mother would have warned me against harboring an interloper but something about him indicated a kindness I couldn’t ignore. Still, I would barricade my bedroom door tonight, and sleep with the gun under my pillow. The few valuables we’d owned were already hidden away, and if he made off with the deer meat, well, he’d shot it himself, anyway.

I showed him to Jason’s old room with a pang of sadness. Despite having been absent from this house, Jason’s room still smelled like him. John shot me an inquiring look as I explained the amenities but spared me from further explanation. I supposed my own predicament was as obvious as his was. He thanked me with a wary eye, no doubt reconsidering the acceptance of lodging here. After all, I could report him to the traffickers. As I left him to his washbasin, I paused by the door. I glanced back as he removed his shirt, and cut my eyes away quickly. Before this man had run away, he’d been well fed and taken care of. I wondered again what his origins were.

“I’m not going to report you,” I said.

“I know,” he said softly, and I closed the door behind me.

John Alec

I slept in fits that night. Though I had the benefit of a warm bed and a full stomach, I knew that sleep would only result in nightmares. I wondered again about the man who had owned the gloves and this room- had he been her husband? Why was this lovely woman living here all alone? I’d traveled to five cities in the last month, mostly on foot. I’d traded every meager possession I’d taken with me, and starved the rest of the time. I’d seen many women, young and old, hardened with work and hardship, their features marred with dirt, sun and scowls; all of them desperate. This creature was as strong as she was lovely; as soft as she was hard. After lying awake for hours I gave up on the prospect of sleep and surveyed the room. My guilt warred with my curiosity as I picked through the mysterious man’s belongings. I found photographs of a young man, about my age, with Hannah, both of them smiling and happy. Though their physical features were different, they shared similarities, and I deduced that this man had been a brother.

The rooster crowed before dawn. I’d slept for an hour or so, and started awake with the dreams. I knew from experience that I would not get back to sleep, so I dressed quietly and crept out of the house as Hannah slept. Hannah had done well to maintain the little farm, but I’d noticed that she was nearly out of firewood and the barn needed repairing. I located the necessary tools and set to work before she rose.

Hannah

I dreamt of the stranger last night. In my dream he was chasing me, and we were both laughing. My mother was in the kitchen cooking her strawberry pie, and Jason was lounging beneath the oak tree we’d climbed as children. I woke with tears on my cheeks, wondering at the cruelty of my own subconscious. I combed out my long hair and left it loose, falling over my shoulders. I changed into a practical pair of trousers and one of my hunting shirts and padded into the kitchen to start boiling water. Jason’s bedroom door was open, its temporary occupant gone. My stomach clenched as I searched my house, noting everything in its rightful place. I went to the barn next, hoping he hadn’t made off with the animals there. I stopped short when I found him splitting wood from one of the broken trees near the barn, shirtless and glistening with perspiration. A neat woodpile lay to his left, and he grunted with exertion as he split the log and tossed the wood aside. He noticed me there and I blushed, guilty of staring at the shirtless stranger.

“Good morning Miss Hannah,” he said softly, wiping his brow. He wore Jason’s gloves, and my eyes welled with tears.

“Are you hungry?” Was all I said.

That night we ate venison. I’d cooked up some squash from Mother’s garden and we ate it with bread. Though I didn’t know him well, I enjoyed watching John Alec eat the food I had prepared him, watching him satiated after what I’d deduced was a long stretch of hunger. He helped me clear away the plates afterward and we built a fire in the hearth with some of the wood he’d so kindly split for me. I’d become comfortable with him in only a day.

“I figure I should probably move on in the morning,” he confessed, as we warmed ourselves by the fire. My stomach clenched in disappointment, a feeling I resented. What a foolish person I had become.

“You are welcome to remain a while longer, if it suits you,” I said, careful not to sound as desperate as I felt. He considered this.

“You have been very kind,” he began. “I have enjoyed your hospitality more than I care to admit, but I am in hiding,” he said.

He paused, clearly awaiting shock on my part and surprised at receiving none.

“I’d assumed that,” I told him softly.

“Where is your man?” He asked me, emboldened.

“I have none. I lived here with my mother and older brother. She passed away and he was...taken..three months ago.”

“I suppose...I could stay another day and finish repairing your barn?”

I smiled now and relaxed.

“That would be most helpful. We could see to that deer skin too.”

We shook hands, his fingers lingering on mine a little longer than normal.

As I tied my hair back for bed, listening to the sounds of John Alec performing his own bedtime rituals in Jason’s room, I wondered what the future held. There would always be raiders. Jason was gone, our Mother dead. I could remain here alone, as I had been, doing the necessary tasks to survive another day. I would find out who had sent the raiders who had stolen my brother and have my vengeance; but for now, I would revel in the companionship of the interloper, and dream about things I probably shouldn’t.