Page 3 of Taken By the Soldier
Two young women appear at the bottom of the steps, eyes wide and faces pale.
Twowomen.
I give an inward sigh, knowing my men have found their prospective brides. Assuming these girls are healthy, over the age of eighteen, and unmarried.
As it turns out, the women—Adella and Chloe—are sisters, and both are in their early twenties. Medical scans prove them healthy, and neither are married, though the females balk and exchange a worried look when asked about their marital status.
After we all return to the truck, Gunnar and Forrest inform the sisters that they’ll be traveling to the Deep Creek area with us.
“Is it safe there?” Chloe asks in a guarded tone.
“Yes,” Forrest replies. “I promise it’s safe.”
I close my eyes and let my mind drift. Gunnar and Forrest speak softly with the women and finally explain why they’ve been taken—this isn’t a simple rescue mission.
“Wait a second. You want us to marry you? What? You don’t even know us!” Adella cries in a voice filled with shock and alarm.
“The war is nearly over, and thousands upon thousands of Zasforran soldiers like us are stranded on American soil. We are in the process of creating settlements up and down the East Coast, but we need women. Wives,” Gunnar says.
“Where we’re taking you,” Forrest says, “we have plenty of supplies—food, medicine, safe drinking water, clothing, books, anything you might need.”
“Are you trying to bribe us with material things?” Chloe asks.
“No,” Gunnar says, firming his voice. “We aren’t bribing you. You’re coming with us no matter what. We found you and we’re keeping you—as our brides.”
The truck engine roars to life, momentarily drowning out the sounds of indignant feminine gasps. A static noise indicates the viewing screens have been activated, and I open my eyes as the truck lurches forward, my gaze on the passing scenery. The viewing screens mimic windows almost perfectly, and the heavily armored box of the solar truck is not only blaster proof, but it can withstand bazookas and rocket-propelled grenades. It can also withstand the old-fashioned weaponry, such as rifles and handguns, that many Americans still possess.
I struggle to keep a straight face as the sisters continue to argue with Forrest and Gunnar. Several times, the women make a move for the back door, only to be grabbed by their soon-to-be husbands.
Eventually, Adella whispers to Chloe that perhaps being found by Zasforrans might be the answer to their prayers, and the sisters slowly begin to warm to their captors and start asking more questions about the Deep Creek settlement.
Will the next neighborhood contain an eligible woman? The driver has instructions to stop one last time before hitting the highway.
I steel myself as if preparing for battle.
Chapter2
JUDITH
Distant explosions rattlethe bedroom windows, serving as a harsh reminder that the war isn’t over. Not by a fucking longshot. I peek through the blinds. The streets below are strewn with trash, debris, and abandoned cars, but otherwise empty. No signs of soldiers or regular citizens. But just five days ago, I had witnessed a group of armed men rush down the street, and every few hours I hear the rumble of an engine or the steady humming of Zasforran armored solar trucks.
Trapped. I’m trapped in my expensive, fourteenth-floor apartment in downtown Baltimore.
Sometimes I tell myself it’s a haven, but mostly, I feel trapped.
A deadbolt and three heavy pieces of furniture separate me from the warring world outside. I’ll be doomed if a bomb strikes the building, of course, but remaining hidden inside seems like the best option at the moment.
Certain death looms in the city streets where bands of Zasforran soldiers roam in search of their next victims.
Two weeks have passed since the last news station went off air, but the final report on the war had been chilling. A wide-eyed, trembling news anchor had announced that the American president was missing, Zasforrans were executing nearly all Americans they encountered, including women and children, and all Americans in eastern states were strongly advised to travel west.
I move away from the window and head for the shower. By some miracle, the building still has running water. I always make a point to get dressed every morning, shower in the evening, and put on pajamas at night. It’s a simple thing that gives me a sense of normalcy, a sense of routine, even if there’s nothing normal about my present situation.
Is there anything normal about the end of the fucking world?
That’s what this feels like. The End.
Once I finish showering, I slip into a nightdress and head for bed. I curl up under the cool, silky sheets as my mind drifts.
