New Hope Village

“Clint, this is Thompson, this sector is all clear, I’m bringing my patrol in for the evening. “

“Bring ‘em home Thompson, the kitchen is serving up grilled cabbage for supper, you know Royce will be madder ‘en hell if he misses it.”

Now, where the hell is Royce? Robert Thompson thought to himself. Since stumbling into the village, Royce Jessie had been Thompson’s partner and consistent headache. Not a bad kid by any means, just a bit of an airhead, a detrimental characteristic to have since The Falling. Some people thought it was just his youth, Thompson thought he had a screw loose.

“Royce, this is Thompson, where the hell are you?” Thompson squawked over the radio.

“Thompson, I’ve got a woman down here! She’s bleeding bad and she’s damn near hypothermic! I think she’s going into shock!”

-

Doctor Simon Daily stood over the sink, washing his medical equipment next to his nurse, and wife, Vanessa. Regardless of the fact they had only spent the day patching up cuts and scrapes, the day had been long. As had the weeks, and the years since moving to the village Daily thought to himself. As one of the original members of the Life Advocacy, Daily had the opportunity to setup and form his own OR ahead of The Falling, unfortunately, the attacks had left them short staffed, losing several good medics to the fighting, and later several nurses to a flu outbreak. The flu? A horrid killer that had claimed more lives than their invaders in the last year. Such a simple thing now so deadly since the world they knew had dissolved before their eyes. It was hard to believe they were the lucky ones, the ones who had the plan. The survivors, left to bear witness to the apocalypse.

“Doc!” Came a voice from the next room. Bursting through the door, Gideon exclaimed: “We have an incoming from Thompson's team! Prep the OR immediately!”

Damnit! Daily knew they didn’t have the staff, nor did he have the energy to work on a severe field wound at the moment. What the hell could have possibly went wrong on a patrol? Have we been attacked? Should I expect more casualties? Son of a bitch, we are NOT prepared for this right now!”

“Get the fuck out of the way! Get that fucking door open! She’s dying!”

She?

Thompson and Royce set the woman on the table. She lay there naked, bleeding profusely from a field bandaged wound on her lower abdomen, wrapped only in an Mylar emergency blanket. But even unconscious, seemingly lifeless, she clutched a gold chain in her hand, her only effect it seemed. Vanessa removed it and placed it in a surgical tray.

“Thompson, who the hell is this? She’s not one of ours!” Exclaimed Daily.

“Royce found her in the woods about 2 miles south of the village, we brought her here.” Thompson replied.

“You removed her clothing? Did you find any other wounds?” Vanessa asked.

“We didn’t remove it, that’s how we found her.”

“Found her? She’s half dead! Why the hell am I working on a complete stranger? We barely have enough medical supplies for -”

“Save her anyway,” declared Gideon, “I’ll help in any way I can.”

-

The operating room was hushed for several hours, Gideon stood over the young lady as he helped, he guessed her to be around 28 or 29, she was quite beautiful, battered and wounded and scarred as she was. Very light skinned, a fact that concerned him. Since The Falling most people had turned to scavenging, and even though she would have bundled up given the freezing temperatures outside, not even her face or hands were tanned in the slightest. His guess, she hadn’t left the indoors in quite some time.

Daily was still fairly upset Gideon was devoting resources to a stranger, but he knew why Gideon made the decision to save her. Even in the heat of their constant battles with the invaders, this middle aged, scarred, angry man always had the same priority: To save as many people as possible. To ensure humanity doesn’t go extinct in as it faces this new enemy that would eradicate them. While doubts were a constant, so was the trust shared between the two men.

“How’s our girl doing, doc?”

“She’ll make it, I'm closing up the last of her wound now. She was cut with surgical precision, from the bottom of her stomach to the bottom of her ribs, all the way into her uterus. If I didn't know any better, I'd say this was a....”

“Director Gideon,” a call interrupted from outside the OR. “You’re needed with intelligence if you’re available. I’m told it’s urgent.”

“You and Vanessa have this Doc?”

“Yeah, I’m closing up now.”

“Good, and Doc, let me know when she’s able to talk.”

-

The walk across the village was quiet, everyone but the night guard had turned into their homes. It amazed him how, even though he had witnessed its construction and worked together with the other members of the life advocacy to build it, this campground in Kentucky had turned into a haven for the refugees chased from their homes by the invaders.

Normally intelligence would turn in findings every other day when the officers would report in, this must have been urgent. He approached the door, he could hear the vicious debate on the other side, but when he entered the room went silent, and a chill crawled up his spine.

“I’m here,” Gideon said, all eyes in the room already on him. “What do you have to tell me?”

“Gideon, Royce found this on the girl, protruding from her wound.”

Marcus, chief intelligence officer, handed Gideon a small, Ziploc bag. Gideon looked it over. The men watched him, expecting some reaction, or some statement, some wisdom out of the man regarding the situation. Maybe they wanted affirmation? Either that their own fears were valid, or that their fearless leader already had a plan for this new scenario.

“Thank you, men.” Gideon said, leaving the room with the bag in his hand.

-

Gideon entered the step-down unit the next morning, he saw the girl, awake, upright in her bed, Vanessa at her feet. He approached the girl, Vanessa dismissing herself to meet Gideon halfway, whispering to him, “Listen, this isn’t a good time talk, the lady is distraught, wounded, she’ll barely even speak, and when she does, she fights through tears and...”

“This can’t wait Vanessa, even a moment. I’ll be...”

“She was raped Gideon, beaten and...”

“I know Vanessa. And I think I know who did it.”

Gideon pulled the bag from his pocket, showing her the contents. Vanessa Covered her mouth as she gasped, and crying, she left the room. Gideon walked over to the edge of the strange woman's bed. “I see they’ve given you your necklace back.”

The young lady sat there, motionless, clinging to the gold chain in her hand, eyeing the stranger at the other end of the bed.

“My name is Gideon, what’s yours?”

No response.

“I’m the director here, I keep the village running as best I can. My men found you on a routine patrol. I-”

“Why am I here.”

“They brought you here so our doctor could patch you up. You had been-”

“I know what fucking happened.”

Gideon sat there in silence as she stared him down, he knew he couldn’t strong arm his way into getting her to trust him. But he needed answers, now.

“You’ve been clinging to that necklace since my people picked you up. Do you mind if I see it?”

“Yes, I mind.”

Should have known better. “Where’d you get it from?”

“My father gave it to me when I was a girl. If you must know, it’s a locket.” She held it up by its chain, a small, heart shaped locket, the sterling gold finish peeled back to reveal the raw material underneath.

“That’s very sweet that you’ve held onto it all these years. Does it have their picture in it? Your parents?’

She dropped her head, “No, actually. It’s a compass. My father gave it to me because I kept getting lost in the woods. I used it to find this place, I heard of it a year or so ago, a place safe from the invaders, from the nightmare. My brother and I travelled here together from St. Louis, hoping to find it, using my dad’s gift to find New Hope Village.”

Gideon smiled; he felt the tension in the room subside. He reached forward to grab her hand, she pulled away at first, but she allowed him to wrap his large, rough hand around three of her small, petite fingers.

“Sam.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You asked me my name, my name is Samantha, I go by Sam.”

He smiled up at her again. “It’s good to have you here Samantha.” They sat in silence for a moment. Gideon knew he had to push the subject to get the answer he needed in time, not that it would change anything. But he had to know. “Sam, you said you started here over a year ago, what took you so long? St. Louis isn’t more than a month's journey at most.”

He knew the answer before he asked, but he had to get to the truth. Sam fought back the tears, her head and neck buckling as she sobbed. Gideon reached forward to put his arms around her, she grabbed the collar of his shirt, clinching at it with all her grip, he could feel her agony translate through her touch.

“They picked me up, they beat me, they tortured me, and every day, every. Single. Day. He would come in and have his way with me, he would rape me, beat me, he loved it. He did it to so many of us, so many. He was so violent, so forceful, even if you made it easy for him and just gave him what he wanted he’d still torture you while he violated you in every way he could imagine.”

Gideon held her close, his shirt soaked with her tears, her hand ran through his hair as she gripped him for dear life. He knew what would come next.

“And then... Then... I got pregnant.”

Hearing those words mumbled from a sobbing, abused, broken girl... He could feel her pain radiate through her like fire, consuming her. They sat there a moment, her clutching him, the only sound in the room being her tears of agony.

“What happened next, Sam?”

What?” She asked in disbelief.

“I’m sorry dear, but I fear all of us are in grave, severe danger, and I have to get answers. What happened next?”

“They... They cut my baby out of me. Then they left me, gutted in the woods. I wandered maybe 10 or 20 feet before I collapsed. They just flew me in and dropped me.”

Gideon’s heart sank. For the first time since the Falling, he knew that neither he nor the life advocacy had a plan for what happened next. If they dropped her there, knowing the patrol would find her, they knew where the camp was, and all of its survivors.

“Sam, I need you to tell me something...” Gideon stumbled and fought for words, his confidence gone, his at the brink of crumbling, hinging on her answer. “Sam, the one who raped you... Did he... Did he have a name?”

“Yes.”

Gideon swallowed hard, looking into her eyes, afraid of her answer. She remained silent, so he pulled the Ziploc bag from his pocket, in it, a single, bloody, white feather. “Sam, the angel who raped you, who’s baby you conceived... What was his name?”

“Lucifer.”