The Queen's Pain

Introduction Kenna No matter how well she argued, or how much evidence she provided, Ken could not convince the restless residents of Somerset, Colorado, that they had enough food, petroleum, housing, and other supplies. They always complained. Worried. Came knocking on the door at all hours. The corner house-turned-grocery store had run out of milk or cigarettes or whatever. For three days, they rationed fuel while they waited for a tanker truck brave enough to make the run to their little fort. It drove everyone nuts. The group found shelter behind barricades and sturdy walls that Kenna helped build. They were safe here, and certainly well cared for, while similar locales around them fell to chaos. But any sign of something awry caused pangs of irrational fear. They relied on what Ken, Dakota, and a handful of others provided. But when something came late or fell short of expectations? The people thought the apocalypse had finally reached their doorsteps. Sure, things were difficult. But they dealt with it. Adelaide bribed outsiders to come to town with provisions, for which they paid at least double its worth. Everybody had to pitch in when something needed building, moving, or fixing. The kids were all homeschooled. Despite everyone’s best efforts, word got out that a group of magic-wielders were holding up here. Or at least there were rumors. Though the town showed surprising growth in a time of increasing death, destruction, and hardship, outsiders acted like it was cursed. As if to enter its borders was to bring dark forces down upon themselves. Of course, when a given supplier, courageous enough to tempt it for good money, found nothing particularly weird about the town and lived to deliver consumables another day, he or she usually came back. Somerset was safer than anywhere else now. Not even the coal mine posed a risk anymore. With no one willing to work there, it shut down last year. The owners fled. It took only a week or so to strip it of valuable parts and sell the scrap metal for extra cash. In fact, the real concerns the new Inner Circle and townspeople faced were from the weather. It rained almost every day. And they rarely saw the sun or the moon for more than a few hours at a time. This was a sad reality of life in a nation corrupted by magical interference. It affected both normal people—of which about three dozen or so decided to stay, despite their new neighbors—and talisman-holders alike. A river ran behind the lower houses, and it filled up with a current of clay-colored water that flowed down from the mountains. Before a carefully orchestrated intervention, in the form of a well-engineered levee, it crested ten feet above flood stage and killed two kids who took shelter in one of the nearby homes. Things were better now, though. No one else had died on Ken’s watch. Hell, not one person had even left their stronghold in favor of greener pastures. They knew, on some level, that what they had here could not be replicated. It was a fight for survival everywhere else. Volcanoes and disease and rioting. Martial law where it could be implemented, anarchy where it couldn’t. An occupant or occasional visitor in town could take a break. Have a coffee—brewed, not instant—and a pre-packaged pastry. Relax. No tanks rolled down their streets. A doctor, who came from a few towns over, and two nurses tended to the needs of the people. Food was plentiful. And while the town had never experienced such a population boom before, the close quarters rarely caused an issue. They even had a bunch of plans for escape should they ever need it, and most of the cars and trucks were filled to the brim with supplies and fuel. Unfortunately for the eighteen-year-old, these basic truths did little to nothing to sooth her wards’ fears of the unknown. They were convinced that the flow of high-priced goods would eventually dry up for one reason or another, and that they and their loved ones would either starve or freeze. Though they tended to voice their concerns individually or in small groups, Ken had to command a town meeting once per month. Dakota’s idea. She’d involved herself thoroughly in the town’s new construction. Bringing in people. Negotiating living arrangements and a small amount of commerce. Convincing a surprising number of locals to stay. Building up physical protections from the outside world. Assigning jobs. Settling conflicts. Dealing with problems. With help, she turned old houses into classy apartments. She facilitated setting up a small hairdresser and made rules for better homeschooling. In her free time, Ken renovated an old shed so that it could be used for storage, meetings, and indoor events. And she did even more through management of others, including the improvement of a playground and a restructuring of their power, cable, and internet lines. By the time the place started to look like something warm and inviting—and fairly independent minus the deliveries—everyone knew Kenna. Most liked her, or at least found her interesting. A short girl with thick, well-manicured hair, who wore skirts in Colorado, even in the winter. Someone unafraid to tell the truth but not so blunt as to terrify or offend anyone. Working with them, she found patience she didn’t know she had, to the point that they actually thought it was a natural trait of hers. While Adelaide was technically the de facto mayor, as she funded their efforts and commanded the greatest amount of unnatural power, Ken quickly became the community leader. They always saw her working on some project or patrolling the streets, checking on things. Her latest endeavor included alternative energy sources, should nearby power stations become unreliable. Energy-efficient LED lighting for the streets and porches. Generators. Solar panels. And possibly a wind mill or two if she could get the supplies. It was a big undertaking, but she had the workforce at her disposal, and the town voted in favor of it two months ago. They would want to know the progress and plan specifics at this gathering. She had a report prepared for them, along with other news items. Their resident engineer—a Talisman-Free Individual (TFI) and Jack-of-All-Trades, who used to work at the mine—would act as her assistant. But before Ken could get into it, the complaints began. “You said we’d be getting the paper towels in this week, KC,” whined the woman who ran their general store out of the first floor of her house. Another TFI, this aging, petite townsperson was constantly a source of pain in Ken’s side. Like the other normal people, Lorelei Ann Charleston—Ann, to everyone who knew her well—called Kenna by her initials. There was a sort of special language in Somerset, now called “New Somerset” by most, that involved quite a few euphemisms and acronyms. They did it to protect themselves and hide information from strangers. And the inclusiveness of having their own vocabulary helped draw the group of diverse people closer together. Continuing, “You know I’m out, and everybody’s asking. And never mind that we ain’t had a good selection of spices in six weeks. I’d sell my left arm for a bottle of hot sauce or anything!” A few other locals mumbled in agreement. Ken sighed. “Now you’re just posturing, Ann. I told you last week that it was either toilet paper or paper towels, because our distributor was only willing to make one run this month. I made the call and figured everybody would rather have something to wipe themselves with. Besides—” She let herself show a slight grin as the vast majority nodded in favor of her side. “—since warm weather’s comin’, Katya and Jaden can focus their knitting on towels and other more sustainable things for cleaning up messes. It’ll save on garbage disposal.” They put the unrecyclable and un-compostable trash in the abandoned mine, but it wasn’t ideal. “Those two are all caught up on mending?” Trade secret. The women in question worked a lot faster than anyone realized, and then devoted the rest of their time to talisman research and communications. Knitting and sewing were idler, albeit very helpful, pastimes. Whenever clothes needed to be tailored or mended, they were sent to Adelaide’s two assistants, who took their time returning them, unless it was something vital like a winter coat. “Mm-hmm,” Ken replied slowly. “I think so. They said they can pick up the slack.” Many of the talisman-wielders didn’t feel the need to attend these meetings unless they had a personal stake in something. Katya came when Adelaide requested it. Jaden, who joined them over the winter, was still a bit shy around the others. Purportedly, the tall, pale girl was the product of some vile religious cult out of Utah. She’d run away and was hitching a ride with one of the truckers when Adel “adopted” her as a second assistant. The pastel-colored, weird clothing she once wore was repurposed as ugly-but-useful pillow cases. She still kept her hair in a special bun with a long ribbon to tie it back, a telltale sign that she wasn’t fully adjusted to her new environment. Mainly, these get-togethers were employed to help the TFIs feel like they still had some control over their town, and if a person wearing a glowing crystal showed up—for instance, her dad, who always sat in the front row—the reason was typically so he or she could keep track of gossip or just socialize. Already, there was one baby to show from such interactions and the relationships that grew from them, with another on the way. “As for your spices, I’m thinking we can add those to the shopping list for the next run into Carbondale. No need to order in bulk, right? Just tell me what you want, and if they have it, we’ll get it.” Another isolated town, but larger, Carbondale was the closest untouched spot of civilization. Ken and her dad, or sometimes others, would make a careful trip there on a monthly basis. They would call ahead for very specific things, such as Dakota’s meds or an engine part, and stock up on essentials. Over-the-counter drugs, electronics, chemicals, and plastics—the kind of stuff they needed, but not in large amounts, and couldn’t make or grow themselves. “While I’m at it, any other special requests this time around?” With Ann silenced, others spoke up. For some things, like extra gravel for the streets, Kenna would add them to a delivery order, rather than try and haul them herself. But there were some good suggestions. Weed-whackers. Fishing poles. Axes so that they could cut down some trees by the old cemetery. Later on, individuals would probably approach her with more personal requests for ailments, bodily needs, etc. She would happily oblige with an eye for privacy. Before moving on, there were a few other complaints. Little things like noisy air conditioners and kids playing too close to the levee. A man in the back raised a concern over access to the town on foot via the forests and mountain paths. Ken said she would look into extending some of the fences and lengthening patrols, but the mountains and river acted as pretty good natural barriers against any kind of wayward traveler who might dare penetrate their borders. Besides, they weren’t exactly defenseless on the inside of town, either. Everyone old enough had at least one gun or fighting talisman, and all the children traveled in groups. Next came the update on her independent energy project. She began with the basics and then handed it over to Darrin Hunter, her partner in anything engineering or construction-related. He looked like anyone else from rural Colorado. Plaid shirt, muscular, but not from intentionally working out. Permanent paint stains on his jeans. A T-shirt with tiny holes in the collar. White, but tanned from working outside. Never clean shaven, but at least he combed his hair for the occasion. As he spoke eloquently, she watched with the kind of pride only a mentor could experience. He squinted at the crowd, his reddish-brown eyes lit up from the ceiling lights. She didn’t notice Katya until she grabbed her arm. Turning, Ken gave her a questioning look. “We have a problem,” she whispered. Ken’s eyes moved back to Darrin, but her attention drifted away from the presentation. “Can it wait? This is important.” Shaking her head vehemently, “We have visitors.” “Truckers, right? Trying to use the town as a shortcut?” It happened a lot. If there were only one or two vehicles, someone from the town would simply escort them through and tell them not to take this route again. Larger groups would be turned away. But Katya knew the protocol. She had no reason to run it by Ken. Especially not in front of their nervous neighbors. “It’s not a big deal, just—” “No,” she cut in. Lowering her voice even more and bringing her lips to Kenna’s ear, she said the only words that could give her a pang of fear. “They’re military vehicles. Big ones. Six of ‘em. Right now, they’re waiting for permission, but they can definitely push through the gates. They want to talk to someone in charge.” Her heart skipped a beat. “Let me guess, Adel refuses?” “Da.” “Okay.” She slowly wandered away from Katya and patted Darrin on his shoulder. When he stopped talking in order to acknowledge her, Ken took over. “I have some unexpected business to attend to. Nothing serious,” she lied. “Darrin will handle the rest of the meeting. If you have any questions for me afterwards that he can’t answer, feel free to come find me. Thanks, guys.” With that, Kenna shot a glance of warning to Dakota before spinning on her heels. Together, she and Katya left the makeshift town hall. Once they were clear of being overheard, “You said there are six?” She nodded. “They wouldn’t say what they wanted.” Six vehicles weren’t even remotely enough to take on the town, though they could certainly do some serious damage before the inhabitants successfully fought back. But it seemed like a lot for a group just passing through. “They probably want to investigate us,” Ken surmised. “Try not to worry too much. And don’t say anything to them.” When they reached the partition—a homemade gate of cement highway dividers on industrial-grade wheels with a heavy, lockable latch—some army guys with guns exited their vehicles. Jaden and the town mechanic stood near the entrance, but were happy to move away when they saw the two women approaching. Though both of the others were certainly armed, Ken and Katya had weapons that would actually prove useful in a fight with the newcomers. Hopefully, however, it wouldn’t come to that. “How can I help you boys?” Ken asked in her most confident tone. She was in control. They had come to her town. The men said nothing. After about a minute of awkward silence, a door opened in the back of the third vehicle and a recognizable, though not welcome, figure stepped out. Kenna glared at the government official, who wore a woman’s business suit and heels. No wonder there were so many cars. This was a protective security detail for one of the most important people in what remained of the nation’s federal government. “Homeland Security Secretary Liliana Cortez,” Ken spoke only loud enough for her colleagues to hear. “Back away slowly and go tell my dad who it is.” Though she’d seen this person once before, and then multiple times on TV, Dakota had done the interacting. Chances were, if Cortez knew he was here, she’d arrived to speak to him. And if and when she found out, she would certainly want a chat, which might actually help the town avoid close scrutiny.