Chapter Eleven

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It was a long week, a hard one, and Victor knew it. The papers in front of him told of great losses and victories, the most notable of the victories being the successful defense of Edging, and the worst of the other being the loss of four soldiers in the attack to destroy the rebel camp. 

Other papers spoke of fighting in the cities, the Church speaking out against the Reform itself, and even though Victor knew religion was good for the people, he would have to shut them down eventually, as they were causing too much tension between the people and his men.  

Looking behind him, down at the city below, he remembered why he had come to be here. 

The lake basin that held the capitol now was no more than an empty crater in that time. Victor was about fifteen when he and his father had arrived. 

"Look, son," his father spoke, and Victor listened intently, "This is our future. These people. Remember that." 

It had taken a few years for the words to sink in, and more people arrived from various places, looking for safety. They did not find any in the camps, because there were some who did not share the same need for peace. They terrorized the land nearby, beating and raping, and destroying a dream belonging to the kid's father. Victor knew he should do something, but he was too young. 

Then his father died. It was a horrible event, because it was at the pinnacle of the tyranny. Victor could not stand those bandits any longer. He gathered as many men as he could over the next few days, and drove them all out. Next he established the city. The capitol, which he named Redford. 

Once people heard of this feat, they flocked to the city. Victor sent men outward as well, liberating other groups and making new cities. At age twenty, Victor united a land to become a nation.  

That was the dream he continued today, uniting the people against death and tyranny. Yet those same people he protected tried to fight him, for what reason? Did he not give them enough? His rules were in place for protection, in the wake of the bandits. And they still fought. So he struck back. 

"Victor! News from the warfront!" Ray stepped through the doorway into the open room. 

"Tell me you have something good." 

"Yes I do sir, here." Ray handed a few pictures to his older friend, "these show the print-outs to the weapons made at the one factory. Also, another order camp has been eliminated. Ryan is overseeing the dismantling of what remains." 

"Good. Have the print-outs sent to the engineers. See what they can do. And take care of that girl too. Get her somewhere secure, not those damned cells. We already lost someone in there." 

"Yes sir." Ray Chelsing left the room. 

"Now," Victor Zimes spoke to himself, "Back to work." 

------ 

It had been about a month or so since his father's death and his mother's disappearance, and already Jason was taking control. Melody did not really understand the situation, and she tried to help him as best she could, starting with the burial of the body of Michael. She questioned at first why 'dad' wasn't moving, and why he was bleeding, but the realization came late. Once Melody came to terms with the event, she cried. Days went by before Jason's sister was ready to work again. 

The time went by in an uneventful manner, the basic routine: wake up, eat what was left in the stores, lookout, more eating, and then sleep. Jason rarely broke this routine, until one bright day. 

Brighter than most, Jason thought, as he picked his way among the rubble, looking for more food to satisfy his stomach, which raged inside of him like a creature of its own volition. "I am starving." 

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