Yosemite Massacre

by shenandoahok

An ex-military officer turned pacifist escapes the Yosemite Massacre with his girlfriend and an orphan.

1. Chapter 1

Yosemite Massacre

by

Shenandoah

Chapter One

The unusually warm temperatures in Yosemite worries everybody in the small commune-even the older members of the society. Snow covers the mountaintops, and a sudden melt could cause flooding in the commune, and that will be tragic for the community since we live in the valley. A melt usually happens in the summertime, but this last winter produces a tremendous amount of snow for one season, and the rains have already saturated the ground. The melting snow feeds into the man made lake located to the south of the commune where the fishes bite aggressively. I catch a bundle of fish, clean them, and store them in my refrigerator. The lake is my primary protein source. Sometimes I sell my catches to some of the locals or use them to barter for supplies. Fishing is good in the Yosemite Valley.

The majority of the residents stay in well built tents, and sleep in sleeping bags that the Votanis Collective donates to us. The bags have the initials "VC" written on the front of them, and some of the humans have the bags too. The commune shares everything except for the secrets. Everybody comes to the commune trying to escape the Pale War, and many of us, including myself, have a painful and bloody past.

The Iraths keep a watch on their crops, and ensures the commune that things are looking good. The Iraths spend the majority of their days working diligently in harvesting the land, and growing food for the commune. The Liberata-a short stocky humanoid creature-work well with all the races, and they assist the Iraths with growing crops, keeping finances, and other arduous tasks. We've made it clear to the Liberata that under no circumstances will they be used as servants or slaves.

Even though we remain a peaceful community, sometimes predators-animals and humans-make their way into our commune. Representatives from the Votanis Collective and the Earth Republic use mental games and techniques in an attempt to turn us against one another, but we're too smart for their games. We make promises to each other to never raise an angry fist towards another member of the community. It's not always an easy task keeping the peace between all the races because everybody carries flammable baggage. The underbrush that we carry with us into the community can ignite from the smallest of sparks, and cause a disturbance that needs a mediator to calm us down. The Castithans and Iraths cause the biggest problem when they're in the same room, and they know this. Each side promises to never raise a fist.

The majority of the people living within the community are under the age of thirty-five, and we consider the people in their thirties as the elders. The Yosemite Valley comes into existence by a couple of kids named Ronald and Sarah Kirby, brothers and sisters. Their parents are wealthy land developers who give them the valley when Ronald is merely ten-years-old and Sara nine; and in turn, they turn it into a sanctuary for Irathients who want to get away from all the fighting. The first Votans enter into the valley around twenty-fifteen with several hundred flooding into the place every year since. Ronald and Sarah die in a plane crash in twenty-twenty-five when the ECF shoots them down over Oklahoma City. It's a sad day indeed, and causes a lot of friction between the United States and ECF.

Yosemite Valley is a haven, a place of solace from the insurmountable amount of fighting between the Earth Republic and the Votanis Collective, but we all live in shuttering fear from the possibilities of either side overrunning our sanctuary-callously killing us for living with the aliens. The media works for the Earth Republic, and jams the airwaves with propaganda against the Votanis Collective. I don't know how many channels of communication are open, but the last time I check, two stations came in loud and clear with a message of gloom and doom. The majority of chatter is happening over secure, military channels, but the Votans use devices that jam all frequencies.

Every now and again, we receive a visit from the ECF or the Votanis Collective demanding services of some kind, but we always inform them that we're a pacifist community with no stake in this war. Humans inundate the airways with anti-Votanic propaganda aiming at feeding resentments against the newcomers, so we don't have any televisions in the commune. The biggest story in the news is the story about the diseases that some Votans carry that can be deadly to humans, but innocuous to the Votans. The Earth Republic comes through the town nearly a year ago with vaccinations for all the humans, but left the Votans out of the picture. It's a failed attempt for the Earth Republic to divide the community, but we aren't having it.

The kids-humans and Votans-play in the distance with a red, rubber ball, and I hear their laughter. The town council debates frequently about how we go about keeping the children safe from the deadly consequences of the war, but the fighting is getting closer to our commune. We have a powwow amongst ourselves without the children present, and say that we will keep them in the dark about the war. Many of them have no idea that a bloody battle happens fifty miles from our commune, and no soldiers on either side survives. It's a hard decision about keeping the children ignorant from the outside world, because we wouldn't know what to do if the violence ever spills into Yosemite Valley.

The mountains hold on to its snow despite the hot temperatures in the valley, and some of the Votans love the site of the snow caps in the distance. I see the birds flying so free, so majestically free that I wish I could join them. The Irathients point to the birds, and smile for a minute. They take to nature like they invented it, and that's a special quality about them. They appreciate the beauty of the mountaintops more than any other race in Yosemite Valley, and they spend hours everyday focusing on the beauty of nature. They like to stand in the middle of the day when it's the hottest, and let their reddish skin soak up the rays of the sun. I often watch Rota-the Irathient waitress I've been seeing-bask in the sun, smiling, and asking me when will we move our relationship to the next level. She's persistent. It saddens me that the fighting spills into twenty-twenty-nine, and I feel that it will continue well into the next decade, but that isn't the reason for my apprehension over an intimately, serious relationship with an Irathient woman. I've dated Rota for six months, but we haven't engaged in any sexual activity. She nudges me all the time to take our relationship to the next level, but there's questions she'll won't to know that I can't answer.

Rota loves taking hikes through the mountains, and often tells me that every creature has a place in helping nature. In the spring, she and I wrestles in the Daffodils, and enjoys watching the honey bees fly from flower to flower. She says, "Spring is the best time of the year."

"Why is that?" I ask with a smile.

"'Cause everything is so alive," she says smiling, "New life is everywhere."

I'm a pacifist. Like most pacifist, I'm not born opposing war and violence, but after engaging in such activities myself, I develop a strong dislike for harming other people. I look at Rota sometimes, and I see the faces of the murdered, the ones I murdered. Like all the residents of the commune, I carry baggage that lingers in my soul, and weighs heavy on my heart. There isn't much happening in my hometown of Muskogee, Oklahoma, and I spends a lot of time dreaming about fighting against the aliens. The majority of people I grow up around have an utter disdain for the aliens, and propaganda sent out by the Earth Republic say that they will slowly overtake the world. I believe all the warnings about the aliens spreading deadly contagions that will decimate Earth's human population. In twenty fifteen, my Momma buys boxes of surgical mask, and forces my brothers and I to wear them. The majority of people in Muskogee wear surgical masks everywhere they go. We use plenty of antibacterial soaps that we carry in our pockets everywhere we go because it's rumored that the aliens carry diseases that can pass to humans. She even speaks badly when the news of Yosemite Valley being a safe haven for the Votans hit the airwaves. She thinks it will be a haven for diseases. Some people desire to section the valley off from the rest of the country, and just give it to the Votanis Collective.

My past grooms me into the pacifist that I am today, and now I refuse to take up arms against the Votans. I've spilled plenty of Votanic blood in the past, and I'm ashamed to ever say I did. It comes so easy for me at the time because I had a lot of hate for the Votans before I came to one realization: other people want to control my thinking. My feelings for the aliens are predicated on a series of lies told by the Earth Republic, and I never will forget about that. The Pale War divides the nation, and makes everybody look bad in the process. It's a senseless war fueled by unbridled greed and hubris. What's the point in trying to instill fear in people with brute force because the end result is usually an angry enemy. The majority of people in Yosamite are pacifist, and we decline to arm against each other. We live off the land in most cases except for the occasion feast at the Chicken Diner. But it isn't always like this with me. There is a time when I watched an insurmountable amount of violence on television, and wished I could fight the aliens in order to save the planet. In my late teens, I joins the military in order to save the world against the Votans. The Earth Republic has a program for the brightest and best teenagers in order to prepare them to becoming officers in the Earth Military Coalition. I believe the propaganda the government and the media espouses, and took up arms against the coalition of aliens. Earth Military Coalition sends me to the best schools, and I become an officer on January 1, 2021. It's a proud day for me-even though I don't truly have an understanding of what my mission would be. Up until that point, I have killed only in simulators, games, and imagination, and none of those things prepare me mentally to kill real aliens who looks like me, walks like me, talks like me, and feels like me. I stood in the mirror with my chiseled chin, brass, and decorated chest, and smile. I goes by Lieutenant Derrick Shooty.

War ruins me, and I won't lie about that. Everybody that I kill for the Earth Republic remains scorched into my mind, and no matter what, I will die with their screams replaying in my head. My heart bleeds for all the death in the world because of the greed and selfishishness of a few. It pains me to see so many youth-humans and Votans-dueling over who owns this planet. It's a big enough rock to hold all life; and with the right technology, resources are plentiful. Living in violence is still living, but the fights are fiercest, and the reports trickling in from the battlelines are disheartening. I sit against an old oak tree in the middle of Yosemite, and think passionately about the days I wear the Earth Military Coalition's uniform. I watch several Iraths working on loading a truck with wood-preparing for a coming of age ritual for several young warriors.

When I reach the age of twenty-three, I earn the rank of First Lieutenant, and the EMC tasks me to locate a missing government official named Daila Brown. The Pale War hasn't started yet, but the events are in place for a massive outbreak of violence. Politicians on both sides are being assassinated at random, and it's igniting resentment in everybody. I'm grateful for the EMC believing in me, for giving me the mission, for allowing me to prove that humanity can overcome the Votan's encroachment on our freedoms. The Votans have made a series of aggressive movements after the terrorist, John Paul Bullock, kills the Votan Embassador to the U.N., Onulu Toruku. They have staged protest around the world that turn into sheer violence, and many people of all races die.

When Daila Brown disappears, the media immediately blames the Votans, and promises the humans that everything will be done to find her. Generals make television appearances on all the talk shows spreading hate for the Votans, and saying things like we must take back our world. The media says that the Votans kidnapped and possibly killed Daila Brown in retaliation for the murder of Onulu Toruku. They do an entire segment about how she might be somewhere in Mexico, and the military has several special operation units on the ground in Mexico searching for her. That is my mission: find Daila Brown, and eliminate anybody who gets in the way.

In those days, I have vivid visions of me earning the rank of General, and I want it badly. I do everything right so far in order to put me on the right track to becoming a field grade officer. So, I am the cocky bigheaded officer with the bad temper, and the willingness to kill the bad guys in order to save the planet. I feel that will clear a path for me through the ranks, and clinch me a seat in history as one of the great military minds. My team and I land in Olmec, Mexico, a primitive civilization with a lot of ancient artifacts still standing. The Votans have settled in Olmec a few years earlier, and it becomes a major haven for the Votanis Collective. My team consists of four men and one woman. I consider myself the fifth man on the team, the leader.

Jason Blair, a Sergeant First Class is my Platoon Sergeant, and he's a buffed up white dude from the same town where I grew up: Muskogee, Oklahoma. He's approximately ten years older than me, but gives me the respect due, and keeps me out of trouble in the early days of my career. He always say, "Muskogee boys have to watch each other's backs." Some of the officers call Blair a gym rat, but he's an intelligent man who loves reading poetry. I sits in on one of his poetry readings, and he's rather good, but his square head, dress right dress haircut, and demeanor don't go well with the other poets. He sticks out badly with his peers.

Tony Cooper, a quiet Asian kid from Texas, is a skinny Staff Sergeant who grows up lonely. He doesn't fit in with other Asian students because he doesn't have any connection to his Chinese's culture. His parents wants a child so badly that they adopts him as a newborn baby from China, but doesn't realize the negative repercussions of removing him from his culture. He grows up in an unfriendly part of Texas where he stays on the defensive throughout his teen years. The military trains him well, and he's a quiet killing machine waiting for the day he can unleash his inner demons onto the world.

Sauna Flare, an African American female from New York City, carries the rank of a Sergeant Promotable, and she wants everybody to know that she earns that "P." She's about my complexion, but has a patch of white skin on her left forearm. She says that it's nothing more than a birth defect, and doesn't let it hold her back. She spends a lot of time on the shooting range, gym, and practicing her combative moves. She doesn't waste time dealing with men, and she doesn't mind letting people know. She never shoots anything less than expert, and has an uncanny willingness to always win in everything she does. The command forces me to find an agile female for the team, and she volunteers before I have an opportunity to weed through the selections. She's the hardest worker I have ever met in my entire life, and doesn't mind bruises and scrapes. When I glance at her stats, I automatically choose her to be on my team.

Plywood Heller, a tough as nails Sergeant from Wyoming, grows up in the backwoods away from civilization. He doesn't know the aliens have invaded Earth until Twenty Nineteen, and then joins the military immediately after he finds out. He's approximately twenty-nine, and spends several years training for a race war against the blacks and Hispanics. And now with the invasion of seven new races, he decides the Votans are the only true enemies. I ask him about his name, and all he says to me is, "Parents choice. Didn't have any decision in the process."

We receive word that the Votans probably have taken Daila Brown to Mexico, and hides her in one of the newly formed Votan communities in Olmec. The intelligence feed keeps bringing up the ancient village of Olmec, and I'm positive that the official is in that city. We land on the outskirts of the city in flying mobile, two man fighter pods with wings, a new toy made by the Earth Republic. The machines are about as small as smart cars, but have wings with jet engines, and they move swiftly through the air. We walk stealthily into the city under the cover of darkness, and sneak into the town square without any friction. White skinned people roam everywhere in the town, and it seems somewhat overcrowded. I don't realize at the time how many Votans exist on Earth until I enter into the town. Sergeant Heller makes repeated statements that the days of humans owning the planet are coming to an abrupt end. It's only a matter of time.

The Castithans all look as if God dips them in flour-even their clothes. From my experience with them in the past, they're full of overbearing hubris, and have some kind of innate feeling of superiority. I hear rumors that the Castithans-the white skin folks-like bathing more than eating; and when they bathe, they turn it into a family affair. Obviously, my American mind automatically thinks something insidious is afoot, and the Castithans are a disgusting people nonetheless. I have assessed an alien culture with my haughty American attitude, and already have more than enough reasons to kill the white skin aliens without question.

I see a group of well dressed Castithans with their long, bleach blond hair playing some kind of card game. Several of the men look over their shoulders at us, and I feel the tension rise; but at the same time, they go back to playing their card game as if we aren't watching in the background.

Sergeant Flare walks up to me, and says, "Should just kill them all."

"At ease that crap, Sergeant," I orders with a grimace on my face. I stare her down, and she nods to me. "We'll do what's needed and no more."

"Yes, sir," she says with an evil grin on her face.

Sergeant Flare carries a lot of anger in her heart, and I don't know the reason why; but if given half a chance, she'll kill every Votan in the town. I have to keep things under control in order to prevent the possibility of a blood bath.

The card game the Castithans are playing is unrecognizable to me, but it looks similar to poker. They're slamming cards on the table, cursing, and being completely disrespectful to my team and I. We stand behind them in our dark brown military dress, and none of them give us the respect due. I clear my throat as loud as I can, but they don't move one iota. They pretend that we aren't behind them, and continue to play the game like normal. They take turns slapping the cards on the table, and yelling obscenities in their native tongue. I don't know why they don't realize that we speak Castithan, but they don't seem to mind. Sergeant Flare has a grimace on her face, like she wants to shoot them all, and I gives her the signal to wait. I don't say anything to her about her recalcitrant tone, but I do take a mental note of it. One of the Castithan men calls me a chocolate drone in his native tongue, and I grab him immediately, throw him onto the dusty ground, and before he hits the ground, my soldiers already have the other men in their crosshairs. I hate to say this, but it feel somewhat cathartic at the time for unleashing on the dude for disrespecting us, but that's then. It's a shameful display of violence that I cannot take lightly.

"What do you want, humans?" The Castithan on the ground asks. The look on his face is one of distress and anger, and he wipes the dirt off his mouth to check for blood. The other Castithans sit quietly with a look of anger on their faces, but they dare not move with all the weapons pointing at their heads.

I pulls Daila's picture out of my shirt, and asks, "You've seen her?" The picture has tattered edges because of holding it so many times with sweaty hands.

He laughs with a disdainful pride, and says, "Another human conspiracy." He looks at his comrades for support, and they all laugh in unison. I realize that the man on the ground is the head honcho, and the other guys are merely his minions.

Angry, I kicks the Castithan in the chest, and he falls flat onto his back in agony. I can tell that I probably broke a rib because he starts to have labored breathing. "You think this is funny?" I'm raising my voice at his disrespect, and thinking about putting a bullet in his head.

Looking up at me out the corner of his eyes, he says, "You people are corrupt." He coughs up some blood, and spits it on the ground. "You kill our politicians, and then accuse us of wrongdoing. Look at your own command for the answers."

The townspeople start gathering around us, and we slowly back away from the scene. If I can gauge the ambience of the crowd, I'll say it's an atmosphere of hate for us. Tony Cooper has his M-4 machine gun in the ready position, and Sauna Flare has her's shouldered. She holds her nine millimeter at the ready, and watches the men closely. We walk over to a two story building at the edge of the street, and it's the city council building. The townspeople remain behind us the entire time-watching our every move. Two tall Castithians stand on either side of the door in white suits that almost sparkle with grimaces on their faces when we approach. One of the guards has a scar that goes from his cheek to his ear. I didn't immediately know what happened to his face, but several clashes have happened between Votans and humans over the last few years. I am the first man up the stairs with my Platoon Sergeant close to my side, and Plywood is in the rear. Frustrated, I know I will more likely than not start killing people if I don't find the answers I need. I feel the rage inside of me coming up to the surface, and the Castithans' reluctance to speaking is getting old.

"Let us in?" I asks in a demanding voice. Unfortunately, the guards stand directly in front of the door without saying a word. The scarred cheek guard is the one in the front, and he has a menacing look on his face. He mocks us with the way he looks down on us.

"What business do you have with us?" The scarred cheek guard asks with a scowl on his face. He's well built with a slender frame, and he spits on the ground in front of me. I look down at my shoe, and then I reach for the picture of Daila Brown that's in my breast pocket.

I pulls out the picture of Daila Brown, and asks, "Have you seen this woman?"

"No Votan kidnapped your politician," he replies with a devious grin on his face. I look over my right shoulder at the crowd of people gathering in front of the building, and realize that I need to show some force. "Go back to your country, and leave us alone." The crowd cheers when they hear the soldier raise his voice, and I realize that I'm about to lose control of the situation.

"How do you know she was kidnapped?" I asks forcefully.

"We get the news," he says in a hostile manner. He brushes up against me, and I stumble backwards a bit.

I don't know what snaps inside of me, but I pulls out my handgun, and shoots the scarred cheek guard in the head. The bullet goes through his head, hits the other guard in the head, and they both fall to the ground in front of us. Blood hits against the door of the city council building, and Plywood makes a loud booya sound in the background. We hear a woman and her children screaming frantically from the other side of the street, and they charge towards us with their arms flailing in the air. Plywood kicks the woman in the stomach when she charges towards us, and she falls to the ground in agony. One of the kids throws his body over his momma in order to protect her, and Sergeant Flare says in an antagonizing voice, "How sweet!"

I show her the picture, and ask the question one more time, "Have you seen this woman?"

"Ask the Earth Republic," she replies in a cold voice.

Sergeant Flare walks over to her, places her handgun against the woman's head, and looks at me. "Just give me the order, sir?"

The woman looks at the end of the Sergeant Flare's gun, and simply says, "You've already killed my husband." She looks up at me with tears rolling down her powdery cheeks, and asks, "Why don't you just kill me?"

Her children start to cry loudly, and ask repeatedly, "Please don't kill my Momma?"

When I see the look in the kids' faces, I simply tell Sergeant Flare to let them go. They ran up the stairs, and cry over their dead father. One of her children points at me, and screams, "I'll kill you one day, human."

Later that day, we stumble on a group of Iraths living like gypsies out in the wilderness. They have set up an elaborate shanty town with a functioning government and system of living. In many ways, they remind me of the American Natives, and don't care too much for humans. Since my early childhood days, I know the Iraths don't care too much for humans; and when they first come to Earth, they say that we smell like stacko. The majority of Iraths have orange hair, and range in color from very dark to very light. Some people say that they come across as feral animals, but I have never known any of them to be violent without a cause.

When we approach the shantytown, the Irathient kids are playing soccer with some Hispanic kids. The small town has some Hispanics living and mixing with the Iraths, and we see the same scenario with the Castithans.

Plywood is the first person to verbalize his disgust with the living conditions. "Figures. Knew some dirty spic …"

"Soldier, cut that racist crap," I say.

"Yes, sir."

The entire town comes out to meet us almost immediately, and they let us know that they don't appreciate our unannounced presences. A lady who dresses in a very nice long robe comes to greet us with several Irathient warriors standing behind her. She's unlike many of the Irathients I met in the past because she's dressed for business.

"I'm Tiera," the Irathien woman says dressed in their traditional, business garb. Approximately five-foot five inches, she greets us by placing her right hand over her chest. She comes across as very cultured and refined.

"I'm Lieutenant Shooty," I say in a strong, commanding voice. "We're looking for this woman."

Tiera looks at the picture, and ask, "Why would you think she'd be with us?" She shows the picture to her guards, and they don't recognize her either. She hands the picture back to me. "She's not here."

"We have evidence that Votans kidnapped her," I reply.

She laughs for a minute, and then ask, "Why would you think that? We're a peaceful people, Lieutenant.."

"Allow us to look around, Tiera?" I ask.

She looks at her community as they stand behind her, and then she says, "No."

"No?" Sergeant First Class Blair ask. He pulls out his handgun, walks toward the woman, and a spear lands in the middle of his chest. It goes right through him, and sticks into the ground. It happens so fast that I barely have time to prepare.

Immediately, I pulls out my handgun, and shoots Tiera in the head. Before she hits the ground, I have already taken out several more Irathients in the crowd. I'm scanning the area, but I don't see who threw the spear. We retreat back behind a giant rock, and Sergeant Flare unloads her M-4 machine gun into the crowd. Plywood continues to fire until nothing in the village moves, including the kids. Several of the Iraths have made it into the wilderness, but we don't go after them. We allow them to run away because it will take at least an hour to completely go through each hovel for any signs of Dailia Brown. After we secure the area, I look over my Sergeant's body, and places him in the back of my winged craft with the help of Sergeant Flare. I find it hard to believe that he's gone, but I quickly regroup.

"Let me go after the escapees?" Sergeant Flare ask.

"Don't worry about them," I say with a grimace on my face. "Let's search the hovels for any signs of the official."

Unfortunately, we go through all the hovels, but don't find any signs of the government official; and then it hits me: we've killed innocent people. There are nearly twenty bodies on the ground in front of my team, and we place them in a pile, burn them, and then burn the entire village. We stand around for several minutes after we torch the place, and it feels like my heart is about to explode in my chest. We destroy an entire community of people, and I don't know why. We're searching for a life, but we're destroying life in the process.

We spend a few more days in Mexico before we head back to the states in our two-manned planes, and a special unit comes in to retrieve my Sergeant First Class Blair's machine. I reports to my supervisor about the mission, and he chuckles for a moment. His name is Captain Young, a thirty-five year old man with two children. He looks at me with his high and tight military style haircut, and says, "What I'm telling you is classified. There is no Daila Brown."

"Huh?" I ask with a grimace on my face. At first, I thought I heard him wrong until he started to speak about the situation.

"Just a ploy to make the Votans look bad," he says with a smile.

"But I lost a man over this nonsense, sir?"

He laughs for a moment. "We're only pawns in the game, son. Pawns in the game."

I stumbles out of his office with a look of disbelief on my face. I have difficulties swallowing because my throat feels like it has a giant knot in it. I still need to write a letter to Sergeant Blair's family, but cannot find the right words. Not only do I kill innocent people, but I lose a man in the process, and then I find out it's all an elaborate game. The image of Tiara leaps into my head, and I feels woozy about it. I'm having a hard time dealing with killing her, and destroying her entire community. I make an effort to talk to the Post Chaplain about what I did on my mission, but he was of no use. He simply says, "There will be good days and bad days." I didn't have a clue what he meant because it didn't soothe my anger on any level.

Immediately, I know I won't be able to remain in the military because the unfortunate news causes me deep reservations about my beliefs in anything. I inform my team of my decision, and Sauna has an adverse reaction. She calls me a coward, and tells me that the ECF is for real humans and not alien sympathizers.

I resign my commission almost immediately after having that bitter conversation with Sauna, and move up to Yosemite right after I left the military. At first, I try returning to Muskogee, but they have a strong belief in the ECF, and I have nothing but disdain for the organization. I spend no more than a day in the city of Muskogee before I depart from the town for good.

Yosemite-in my opinion-is the example of humans and Votans working in harmony to make the world a better place. We have conflicts with the other races, but we work for a better world, a better tomorrow for the health of the planet. The Castithans-the whitest people ever-give just enough sweat equity to make the society work, but the Iraths work the hardest and longest. We don't ask the Indogene to work with their hands because most of them are doctors and scientist. They do work that benefits humans and Votans alike; and when the Votanis Collective comes to town, they always deny their request. Standoffish, the Iraths keep to themselves most of the time, and don't care too much for humans or Castithans; but when it comes to work, they don't hold back.

The majority of people in town don't know anything about my military service, and I will never tell them. My past remains a secret that I can never let them know exist, not even Rota. If they have any idea about how many Votans I killed when I wore the uniform, they'll ask me to leave. I hate thinking about my past, but the faces of those people haunt my dreams. Before the medicines dried up, I had a steady supply of drugs that allowed me to deal with my nightmares; but since the war, it's almost impossible to get a hold of those drugs.

The war rages on for nearly six-years now, and it tires the people of Yosemite. Nobody talks about the deaths that much because some of the aspects of the conflict enrages the citizens. Rumors of soldiers-Votans and humans-killing innocent people spreads through the community, and everybody fears for their lives. I give the killing sprees a lot of credence, but I feel somebody needs to remain level headed, and bring the war to an abrupt ending. It serves no purpose. The Votans unleashes several high powered chemo weapons that takes out entire battalions of soldiers; and in return, the Earth Coalition Forces uses strategic nukes that lay waste to many of the Votan's strongholds. The Earth Republic issues a warning that a toxic cloud sits about four hundred feet in the air, and has made airplane travel a death sentence. The radioactive levels around Yosemite remain virtually unchanged, but the Indogene have reservations about staying.

The Iraths continue loading wood onto the back of the truck, but it doesn't start. I walk over to them, and give them a hand in getting it started because I know of the importance of their ceremonies. It is an old stick shift, and we push the truck until the engine turns over. Smoke shoots out of the back of the truck, and the other Iraths hop onto the back of it. I watch them drive off down the road, and the pain of hunger overtakes me.

I walk over to the Chicken Diner in the middle of the town, and order a plate to eat. Nobody misses the Chicken Diner because of the large sign on the front of building allures many people into its doors. It simply reads, "CHICKEN." Rota-an Irath waitress-works the afternoon shift, and I find her very attractive. Her reddish skin looks smooth and unblemished, and everything about her seems almost perfect. Iraths have broad and flat nasal bridges with deep colored red hair. It almost looks orange in some lights. She talks to me all the time, but I've been having a hard time crossing the bridge from friendship into relationship. We often take strolls through the park after dark, and sit in the middle of fields watching the moon.

Every since my arrival to Yosemite, my interests have been for Irathient women, and I'm not going to lie about that. I think my subconscious needs forgiveness on some level, but I'm not sure. Unfortunately, I cannot imagine anybody wanting me if they knew the blackness in my heart. Rota looks at me, but doesn't smile. She simply asked, "So, we take a walk in the park tonight?"

I smile, grab her right hand, and put it against my cheek. "Yeah. I'll love that."

She blushes for a moment, and replies, "You're very affectionate today."

"It's just." I pause for a second because I see Tiera's face in my mind. I repeatedly watch her fly backwards after I shoot her with my weapon. "Maybe we should move our relationship to the next level."

A grin takes over her face, and it's the first time that I see her smile a big smile while at work. "The usual?" she asks blushing.

Chapter Two

The people of the commune gathers plenty of items for the Irathient, coming of age ritual, and many Votans and humans make plans to attend the first part. Every member of the commune brings baskets of fruits, vegetables, and fish for the contributes. The wood is used in order to heat up the sweat tent that holds the kids for seven hours before the fights. The kids sweat, drink, and eat all day until it's time for the fights. Usually, the fights aren't too bad because the kids hardly have enough energy to give a good performance. The ritual is more about endurance than sheer strength. Castithans, Indogenes, Liberata, Irathients, humans, and Sensoths all live in the commune, and work together in order to make the community work. Seven Irathient boys will have a competition in combatives as the first step to becoming an adult, after enduring the sauna ritual. Some of the boys don't make it through the blistering sauna, and that's expected. The fights will be in a controlled atmosphere because we don't want any of the children hurt. In the old world, Rota tells me that the ceremony is a lot more violent, and sometimes kids die. The second portion of the test is to leave home for seven days, and live off the land. The last phase of the test is the ceremony.

Every once in awhile, and passionately, I kiss Rota hard on the lips. The light of the moon exacerbates her beauty, and she seems more radiant than ever. She wears a necklace with a heart on it that I gave her nearly six months earlier, and she holds on to it, and calls it a precious gift. I kiss her just to get it out of the way, and to break the tension in the air, but it's enjoyable nonetheless. When I gave her the necklace six months earlier, she ask, "What's the meaning of this?"

I say, "A down payment so you'll know that I'm interested."

I haven't had a serious relationship with a woman since high school, and I feel a little rusty about that. That's not to say I haven't had sex with loose women around town when it suits me, but I haven't been in a serious relationship. We stand in the middle of the forest adjacent to the crowd of people watching the ceremony. The darkness descends on the community, and the fight is held under the light of the fire. Rota and I continue to kiss passionately away from the main crowd, and she wants to head back to my hovel that lies over the hill. Her breath feels good against my neck, and I feel the stiffness in my trousers. It seems like a good idea, and I'm eager to consummate the relationship with some good old fashion sex. We slip conveniently out of sight, and head to my hovel. It's not much of a place to live like I had when I worked for the ECF, but it is enough to keep the rain off my head. Fortunately, the majority of Iraths don't mind living in such conditions, and she thinks the place is adequate. It is nothing more than a furnished shipping container that I turn into a place of refuge. I pull off the latches, and convert it into a box with regular doors that locks from the inside.

It is now full dark outside, but still early enough for sex, more festivities at the ceremony, and more sex afterwards. I have taken all of Rota's clothes off her body. She's completely nude on my carpeted floor, and I want her more than anything. Her sleek body looks almost picture perfect as she stretches out in front of me. I drop my pants around my ankles, and quickly remove them. I still have on my shoes, and she points to them, and wants me to remove them. A loud scream-automatic gunfire-causes us to run to my side window. My heart races fast because I recognize the sound of the weapons. We quickly put on our clothes, and we hear people running past my hovel. Frightened, I tell Rota to stay in the house, but she scoffs at the idea. We ran outside, and I see several wounded people limping past me. Blood covers their bodies, and I don't know what to say.

"What's going on?" I ask in a frantic voice. I see blood dripping down the face of a human girl no more than twelve years old, and Rota checks her for a second.

"ECF is killing us," she screams with blood trickling down her face. "They're dead."

Rota's face loses all color, and she looks up at the hill. Explosions, flashes of light, the sound of gunfire causes us to panic. "I have to go help my people," Rota screams.

"No, Rota," I say with a grimace. "They have guns. We have nothing."

"But my people..."

"They are our people," I say, "We must run into the woods."

I grab Rota by the arm, and we run deep into the woods, as far from the shooting as possible. The screams carry on the back of the wind, and no matter how far we run, we hear the screams echoing through the wind. Rota wants to go back, and die with her people, but I continue to talk her out of that plan. I'm not sure why she wants to do that, but I'm not willing to let her go easily.

"I love all the people of the commune, Rota," I say in a soft roar.

She looks at the ground, but doesn't say anything to me.

"They wouldn't want us to die," I say softly, "And if you die, then what do I have?"

"You're an idiot," she says with a frown on her face. "There isn't anything worthy about me."

"To me … you're everything," I reply with a smile. I place my hands on either side of her face, and gaze into her eyes. "I'm not willing to give you up."

The child, Rota, and myself charge the wooded area, and disappear into the thick brush. The sound of gunfire echoes through the trees, and the child panics. Blood trickles down her head, and Rota takes another look at the child's gash.

"She's grazed," Rota says as she looks at the wound. "Lucky girl."

We hear others running through the woods trying to get away from the soldiers, and I hug Rota tightly with both arms. "We run until our legs won't run."

She shakes her head in agreement while holding the left hand of the little girl. "Keep up, okay?"

The girl says, "Okay."

We run into Mariposa county after a long night of running, and we feel completely exhausted and hungry. My feet throbs in pain, and Rota takes off her shoes for a moment in order to check for blisters. We smell water from a nearby stream, and drink until our bellies are full. The water flows through an army of rocks that cleanses it, and makes it palatable. I considers the aleatory water source a godsend, but it hurts to know that we don't have any containers to store water for later. We move so fast out of the valley that I left my hunting knife in my hovel. After the little girl fills her belly, she lays on the ground, and looks up at the sky. I lean against a rock, and try to figure out our exact location, but I'm not sure about anything. Rota wades in the water, and I find several long sticks in a pile of brush. I bring them over to the large rock next to the stream, and then sharpens the end of one of the sticks. I'm rubbing the end of the shaft against the rock frantically in order to sharpen the end. I feel Rota staring at me for a second.

"You're preparing a weapon?" She asks.

"Yeah. We need protection," I say as I feel sweat pouring off my head. It's muggy, and the heat is much worse than normal.

"What about a life of nonviolence?" She asks with a look of awe on her face.

"That only works in a world where violence isn't the norm," I say.

The little girl walks over to me, grabs another staff, and rubs it against the other side of the rock. "Is this how you do it?"

"Yes," I say with a smile.

Rota folds her arms in protest to our forging of weapons, but I did what I did for her. She watches us as we pick up staff after staff, and turn them into weapons of war. She shakes her head in disagreement, but it's done. The little girl and I have made weapons. We have long staffs, short staffs, and a few heavy, round rocks for bashing in heads, but Rota won't touch one of them.

The sun beats us senseless, and we stay close to the river until nightfall. We rest the best we can in the hopes none of the soldiers find us. We haven't seen any of the other people from the commune since last night, and the little girl worries about her parents. She's strong, but doesn't have much hope for their survival. She wades in the water without her shoes in order to stay cool, and Rota joins her. I place my hands in the water, and feel the bottom of the riverbed. I find a hole in the riverbed, reach inside, and pull out a huge catfish. I toss it up on the land, but I'm bleeding. The fish hops wildly on the land, and Rota walks over with a rock in her hand, and beats it to death. I have a gash on my right hand where the fish bit me or something, but I'm okay.

Rota helps me manage the fish, and I use a sharp rock to cut the belly of the fish open. I clean it without too much problem, and the little girl winces at the sight of the bleeding animal. We bury the animal parts, and I find some flint rock in order to start a small fire. It's still light outside so I don't take any precautions about concealing the fire. It doesn't take long for the fish to cook, and we tear into like we have never eaten. It is more than enough fish to feed us, and after we finish it, we gather our spears, and travel farther into Mariposa.

"What's your name, little girl?" Rota asks.

"Rory," she says, "Rory Seeker."

"I'm Rota and that's Derrick Shooty."

I wave at Rory, and she smiles for a minute; but then out of nowhere, a group of soldiers descend on the small town. They enter the city from the north while we come in from the south. It's a small town, and they cover the place in a matter of minutes. We make a fruitless attempt to run, but the soldiers have their sights on us. Three soldiers stop us from leaving without much resistance, and knock the bag of sticks out my hand. One of the soldiers steps forward wearing the rank of a Master Sergeant, and she pulls off her gloves, and her left hand is completely white, but she's black. She removes her helmet, and half of her face is eaten away from some kind of chemical weapon. It's an old wound, but a hideous one nonetheless. I immediately recognize this soldier and she recognizes me. It's Sauna Flare and she wears the same pissed look on her face as always.

"Sauna …," I say.

"Shut the hell up, traitor," she interrupts, "It pains me to see a soldier I once admired with this Irathient scum." She looks Rota in the eyes, and Rota doesn't back down to her stare. "You have know idea what your man has done to your people, do you?"

Rota breaks off her stare with Sauna, and looks over at me. "What is she talking about, Derrick?"

I remain silent because I can't explain my actions in a manner that would secure a future with her. I look down at the ground, and hope that Sauna would change the subject, but the look on my face only forces her to give away my secret.

"He slaughtered your people with joy," she states with a huge grin on her face. "Even the children."

Rota looks over at me, but I don't stare back. I feel her eyes staring at my face, and then she asks, "Aren't you going to deny this charge?"

Sauna laughs for a minute, and says, "Just like a man. Sleeping with the same trash he burned." She pulls out her handgun, and points it to Rota's head. "Tell her what you did or I'll put a bullet in her head."

"Don't do it, Sauna?" I beg. "Don't you do it!"

She pulls back the hammer on the weapon, and I immediately kick the gun out of her hand. It flies into the air, and I kick her again with a back kick that causes her to fly backwards onto the ground. I catch the gun, and take out the two other soldiers without too much effort. Sauna hops off the ground, and we stand face to face with each other. It is a classical example of the student versus the teacher, and I wonder if I still carry the skills to fight against a perfectionist. I throw the gun to the ground, and before it hits in the dirt, she kicks me twice. I fall to one knee, and then she hits me with a massive uppercut. Her speed seems almost inhuman, and it worries me. I sweep her legs, and she stumbles backward, but immediately she flips back to her feet, and stomps me. I see the bottom of her boot about to stomp my head, and I hear a knife cutting through the wind. It hits Sauna in the throat, and she falls backwards into a pool of her own blood. When I look over at Rota, she was still in her knife throwing position.

We grab their roller, and I place Rory in the back seat, and Rota's in the passenger seat. We take off towards the wooded area, and continue to drive over some of the roughest terrain in the country.

"Good throw," I say.

"Don't talk to me," Rota says with a serious look on her face. "You're a liar. Your entire life is a lie."

"I didn't lie..."

"Don't talk to me, Derrick. I need time to think, okay?"

"But I love you," I say in a soft, almost whispering voice. It's a brittle voice that shows how much pain I'm in.

Chapter 3

We finally make it back to the commune in our commandeer roller after traversing over some of the toughest terrain ever. The entire drive I try to think up a way to explain my past, but I don't have any viable ideas. Rota remains quiet the entire time, but she shows her displeasure everytime she hears me breathing. We could smell the smoke about three miles out from the commune, and we continue to travel toward our home-even if we didn't know what to expect. I look down at the commune from the top of the hill, but I don't see any of the soldiers left-only their destruction. Rota spends the majority of time in utter silence, but interrupts Rory when she begs me to teach her how to fight. She wants to learn all about guns, knives, and how to make tools to kill.

I know the discussion of fighting disturbs Rota, but the climate of the world seems to be changing with the war. The soldiers steal our peace in a matter of minutes, and we don't have any recourse to stave off their injustices. At the end of the day, the only way to stop violence is with more violence, and history reiterates that point daily. Life is so fragile in these times, and the Pale War grows uglier every day. The nuclear power plants built by Earth Republic spews a vast amount of radioactive goo into the atmosphere, and parts of the country are inhabitable. The nuclear power plants are Earth Republics attempt to match the Votanis Collective's energy sources. And at some point, Rota will have to accept that violence is inevitable, and rely on weapons for protection.

"Don't talk like that, Rory," Rota says, "It's savagery."

"You can't stop violence with nonviolence," Rory says.

Rota looks over at me with a bitterness about her, and then says, "Look what you've started." I think she was being facetious, but I'm not sure. She wears a smirk on her face, and she places her left hand on my knee, and I feel the warmth in her gesture.

"Me?"

She makes a hissing sound, and then says, "I'm an idiot."

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"'Cause the thought of letting you go shreds my soul," she laments, "But I know you've done really bad things, but I still want you in my life." She shakes her head as if to say she can't believe what's she saying, and then smiles.

"That was a long time ago," I say, "But I've changed."

We park the roller on a hill about a mile away from the commune. The area smells of burnt flesh and fire, but the soldiers aren't anywhere to be found. The smoke is still thick in parts of the community, but we can see what's happening on the ground. I hold Rory's and Rota's hands as we head down the hill, and I can't imagine how many people are dead. We see several dead bodies laying on the side of trails with bullets through their heads, and I shake my head at the gratuitous killings. It's a gruesome site, and I place my hands over Rory's eyes so she doesn't have to take in anymore of the violence. Several of the people who live through the unbridle violence places some of the dead bodies on carts, and takes them down to the center of the community. I hear people wailing over the dead as the Iraths continue to toss the bodies onto the wood piles. Everybody in the commune is working in order to restore order, but some of the people are saying that they plan on leaving the commune after this unfortunate event. They have given up hope of believing in a utopia anywhere on the planet, especially with the ongoing war. One of the Indogene doctors is on the top of the pile, and it shocks me because she is the biggest pacifist in the community. She has a bullet hole in her head with silver blood on her face and shirt. The other four Indogenes in the community attend to the wounded. Many of the people sit in the field wailing over their dead friends and families, but the Irathients continue crying and lamenting while still working.

Several of the Iraths have taken the wood from the ceremony, and are using it to help burn the bodies. Rota checks the list of names on the list of the dead and missing, and she sees Bret and Julie Seeker on the list, and knows that Rory's parents are dead. We sit Rory down in the grass, and break the news to her the best we can. She cries a little, but we believe she already knows her parents are gone. Rota cries about the situation more than Rory. We walk over to the Chicken Diner, and the place is gone-burned beyond savaging. Rota sees the burnt structure, and she cries on my shoulder because she knows her Aunt and Uncle are probably dead. I hold her with a tight grip, and tell her that I'm sorry this happened.

Two Irathient elders walk down the street, and I see Rota run over to them; it's her aunt and uncle. They own the Chicken Diner, but don't live in the commune with us. They live on the outskirts of the commune, but pretty much keep to themselves after they close the Chicken Diner every night.

I start helping the Iraths drag the bodies over to the fire, and we have a count of ninety-eight humans and one hundred and twelve Votans dead. Four of the tributes taking the plunge into adulthood are dead, and the other three are badly wounded. They will automatically be given the honor of passing the test-even though they only finished the first phase.

Apparently, a skirmish happens between the ECF and the Votanis Collective causing the deaths of a massive amount of residents in the valley, and each side marks us as traitors. The ECF calls us traitors because we have Votan technology and the Votanis Collective calls its people traitors because of the human technology. Nobody within the commune uses weapons of any type to hurt another human being, but we've paid a huge price nonetheless. I continue to pick up dead bodies off the ground, and toss them gently onto the pile, but it's painful. Many of the people I know; and the ones that I don't know, I recognize them from hanging out around the Chicken Diner. We have created several piles of bodies, and plan to light them on fire once we have enough wood mixed into the piles.

I pick up another body with Rota's help, and we carry it over to the large pile of bodies that lay on the end. She's sad, but somewhat relieved that her aunt and uncle are alive. Several of the Iraths pour gasoline on the bodies, and we light it on fire. We burn all the piles of bodies, and watch them for a minute to ensure the blazes are just right. Rory stands on my left side while Rota stands on my right; and in all the chaos, I realize war makes families out of the oddest couples.

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