The sirens screamed alongside the crowds, and the fences roiled as people pushed against them. Occasionally, some damned fool would attempt to clamber over, receiving only torn up hands for their trouble.
"Damnit all, let 'em in!"
"Sir?"
"Let them in!"
The poor soldier left to unlock the smaller fence gate nearly got himself trampled by the crowd, who stampeded towards the Gate.
"God above…"
"Don't just stand there! You, make sure the school's evacuated. You lot, grab everything you can from the library- nonfiction first! Fuel, food, whatever- steal if you have to!"
As the deluge into the gate slowed ever so slightly, men began to move. Soldiers, sure, but particularly brave civilians. If this was it… they needed everything they could get their hands on.
The situation on the far side of the Gate was total bedlam. A flood of panicked, confused people swarmed from the Gate while great portions of the Army were still out, trying to fortify their position. Conditions were not, by any stretch, pleasant, but they would bear it.
What they wouldn't bear, at least initially, were the finer parts of military protocol. (I don't give a damn if it's a military site, my family isn't getting crisped back there!) Restoring order, unfortunately, involved a bit of gesturing with weapons. The average American ran through the Gate to escape death, so they did fear it.
The problem was mainly that there simply wasn't enough. Not enough space, not enough food, not enough beds… they did have enough water, courtesy of some wells, but that was about it.
As best as the garrison of Fort Alnus could, they moved the crowds into relatively free space and tried to get them to calm down a little. So of course, there was much crying and squalling and general all-around complaining.
It was after the deluge slowed to a trickle that the important stuff started coming through. Buses, trucks packed full of books and machinery haphazardly stolen… some of it had to be parked outside, space was so tight.
Something approaching an orderly flow of traffic had begun to take shape when the mouth of the Gate suddenly brightened, swiftly followed by a roaring, screaming wind.
Within the hour, the Gate had dissolved into the air, as if it was never there.
The Fall of the Gate led to an immediate and serious reassessment of their priorities. Sure, they had a fair amount of supplies, not to mention the miracle from heaven that was a machine shop, but their life line was cut, so everything was now terribly finite.
Thousands of people- most all of them urbanites through and through- were now sitting on Alnus, growing discontent and hungry. Rationing had already been put into place, alongside guards at each and every depot.
Considering the situation, there was some grim discussion of feasting on the meat of the felled wyverns, but it had grown quite foul by then… the various scouting missions suddenly became a lot more important.
There was, thankfully, one saving grace. As far as they could tell, it was spring. Even then, there was no time to waste. They needed action, and they needed it now.
His name was Eoin, and technically speaking, he was supposed to leave this sort of thing to his bosses. Politics, high-level planning? Far above his pay grade. That was for the brass, who got to stay on the other side of the Gate, behind the best chokepoint imaginable. (He did feel bad for them, admittedly.)
Eoin was one of the highest-ranking officers left- and after some discussion, he had taken the reins. There was so much to do. So much to do. But he checked the refugees first, hoping…
It seemed like some hot-bunking might be necessary, if not plain sharing of beds. Families clumped together, while coworkers split up, searching, hoping… Eoin couldn't blame them, after all, he was doing the exact same thing.
Dread crept through him, but he carried on, trying to ignore the sounds of misery around him. Eventually, though…
"Joanna." He cried out, relief flooding through him.
"Eoin…" his wife embraced him, swiftly followed by his sons, and Eoin could have wept. In part, it was joy. But only in part.
America was gone. Steeped in nuclear fire and perhaps in a different dimension entirely. Despite their victory at Alnus, there were foes everywhere they looked, ones who didn't share their principles of liberty.
To live would mean to fight. To take what they needed, and to ensure that his people did not perish from this earth. Well, was it even earth, anymore?
They started their bright new day by trying to get everyone where they needed to be. Families were put together, and a childcare system was arranged for several newly minted orphans.
Meanwhile, everyone was interviewed. What can you do? Machinists and the like were easy. School nurse? You're helping the medics. Still, they had to start stretching definitions eventually.
Oh, you garden? Well take what little left over produce we have and keep us all from starving to death. Woodshop? I hope you like working on the brand new Alnus Shantytowns.
Then there were the prisoners. They didn't have many, admittedly, but even they were analyzed as potential sources of talent. Some of them were just simple conscripts, providing little more than language skills and antiquated farming, while others understood horseback riding, and were quickly pressed into service.
Still, the prisoners were kept in the dark about most things. To show weakness now, to anyone… would be disastrous. Unfortunately, hunkering down wasn't an option either…
Having a scouting party return was a relief, but seeing the many people it brought in tow was not. For a moment, Eoin thought he saw a girl with blue hair. What a strange world to call home.
Take GATE, remove Gate. I'm brilliant.
Anyways, I'm being slightly wishy washy about time and such here, but the end result is a gaggle of fairly modern Americans marooned in Falmart.
Short term, Eoin Doe- yes, he's heard the corpse jokes- tries to guide his state. Long term, I hope to touch on some American-Saderan syncretism. The idea is, perhaps, a sort of give and take. The conqueror and the conquered exchange ideas, so both parties are fundamentally changed. Like a steppe people seizing a sedentary empire.