Page 2 of Surrender
“I believe so, Mom. You go on inside and lie down for a bit. I’ll carry them in.”
The warmth almost knocked her over as she entered the trailer carrying the first box. It felt like they had heat, but it couldn’t be possible. The American government had provided these emergency homes to many camps around the country, but they didn’t have air-conditioning or heat.
Fiona stepped outside and got a better look at the peculiar clear covering. She placed her hand on the smooth, hot surface, and realized this addition to the trailer was indeed providing the much-needed warmth.
Why would the Kall use their resources to bring comfort to their enemies?
Fiona contemplated this mystery as she set each box on the floor. The boxes took up the whole kitchen, but she quickly put the food items away in the cabinets, stacking what wouldn’t fit on the counters.
They now had flour, sugar, crackers, rice, beans, dried fruit, coffee, canned vegetables, and even chocolate. Fiona would be able to bake brownies. She gasped and covered her mouth with one hand when she looked in the last box. It contained a mini fridge powered with an energy cell. She heaved it onto the counter and opened it up.
“Mom, come here!”
Janie eased off the bed and padded into the kitchen. Her eyes bugged out of her head when she peered in the fridge. “Praise God,” she said, raising her hands up in the air.
For the first time in weeks, they had cold milk, eggs, cheese, fruit juice, and fresh meat. Hope swelled inside Fiona. They had real food.
“Go rest for a while, Mom. I’ll make something good for lunch.”
Janie walked toward the bed but stopped halfway there to converse with an imaginary person near the toilet. Tears welled in Fiona’s eyes. Without the medication she needed, her mother would eventually do or say something crazy in front of the Kall.
Fiona hated the thought of keeping her mother locked up in the trailer day after day, but it seemed like the only option. It would be years before Kall forces started leaving Earth, and even then, a great number would remain behind in various positions of power. Earth would never be truly free of the aliens who’d come to conquer.
Lunch was a smorgasbord of fried bacon, cheese biscuits, scrambled eggs, and fruit salad. It was heavenly, and they stuffed themselves until every scrap of food was gone. Fiona brewed a pot of coffee and they sat in silence, sipping the wonderful brew. It was the most satisfying afternoon Fiona had enjoyed in ages. Decent food had become a luxury, and now they had a kitchen full of it.
Throughout the rest of the day, Fiona kept busy by organizing the kitchen, disposing of the boxes, and baking bread and brownies. She also made up a meal plan for the next two weeks. Since she wasn’t sure if the Kall would continue handing out food, she kept the meals sparse to stretch the good food as long as possible.
Today’s extravagant lunch was a one-time indulgence.
Janie fell asleep before the sun set, so Fiona took the opportunity to venture outside alone. The streets smelled of trash and shit, and she drew her shawl over her nose to better tolerate the stench.
A couple of kids were playing soccer in the street, using boxes as nets. Their laughter raised her spirits, and she paused beside a few of her neighbors who’d come to watch. Simple pleasures like this offered much-needed respite from the worries of day-to-day existence in the settlement.
She supposed she could attempt to make friends here, but she didn’t want to grow attached to anyone. A thick cloud of despair loomed heavily over the camp. Worrying about her mother constantly was stressful enough. Another attachment would only bring pain in the end, because she doubted anyone here would find a happy ending.
A pair of finely dressed men moved through the gathering crowd. She watched as they scanned the trailers nearby and eventually approached one and knocked.
Fear gripped her, and she pulled her shawl tighter over her arms as she moved toward the strangers.
Why were they knocking onhertrailer?
No one wanted a social call from any remaining members of the American government, and with their fancy suits these particular turncoats looked like they’d surrendered to the Kall early on to gain alien favor. Without having spoken a word to them yet, Fiona despised them for the cowardice she imagined they possessed.
“Stop knocking. You’ll wake up my mother,” she said in a voice full of venom. Her face burned with embarrassment when she realized many of the neighbors stared in her direction. So much for making friends—even if she wanted to.
The man with the comb-over—the same man who’d caught her eye during the ceremony—smiled and extended his hand. “Ah, there you are. Fiona Lockhart. Just the woman we’re looking for. How do you do?”
She looked at his offered hand in disgust and spat on the ground. No one wanted to be seen making friends with the turncoats and she was very conscious of all the neighbors still watching. Most people resented such turncoats for befriending and aiding the enemy before the official end of the war.
Before President Carson and the rest of the Earth leaders had surrendered in unison.
“What do you Kall-loving assholes want?”
“A private word,” the second man interjected, pushing his companion’s hand down and smiling to reveal crooked white teeth.
“I want nothing to do with you. Leave me and my mother alone.” Whatever they wanted, she had nothing to offer. Fiona was one refugee of thousands, another displaced woman trying to scrape by in a world gone to hell.
“We know your mother is sick. Perhaps if you agree to a private word, we can discuss treating her early onset dementia?” Mr. Combover already held a triumphant gleam in his eyes, as if he knew this statement would bring her to her knees.
