Flash Fiction Friday--Scots Vs. Aliens returns. #WritePhoto

 

The #WritePhoto challenge is a weekly bloghop challenge where KL Caley posts a photo on Thursday and you have until Tuesday to write and post a story. I got started on this one and can't seem to find the ending! Visit the challenge page to join in or to see what others do with the prompt. I'm running a week behind with the pictures, but that's pretty much how I roll.

For those who haven't read the others, you can find the story in pieces: Parts I to III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI,  Part VII, Part VIII,  Part IX, and Part X.  Or you can go with the simple summary: James Campbell and his rag-tag defenders of a ruined castle have defeated and driven off the aliens who have conquered most of the Earth. Now they have moved over the mountains to the sea, to join forces with more rebels and get into shelter before winter sets in.

K L Caley's photo used to inspire the story.

 

Part XI:  Headquarters

 

“This is the place.” Ian MacKinnon gestured at the massive and stately building that stood on the edge of the village.

 

A manor house, probably 18^th Century, James Campbell assessed automatically. Someone’s “summer cottage” most likely. Certainly sturdy and large enough for his clan and anyone else needing shelter. “Roof’s sound?” That wasn’t strategically necessary, but the old family ruin his motley band of rebels had inhabited all summer had been damp and wet in the inevitable rain. It would be nice to spend the winter someplace weather-tight.

 

MacKinnon laughed. “It’s in great shape, and we’re using only a little of it. I’ve some folks trying to work out a way to set up communications with other groups up and down the coast.”

 

“No radio.” The aliens that had taken control of Earth were big on tracing technology, which made any long-distance communication awkward. The Campbell clan had come over the mountains to the coast on foot to avoid notice. Others of those gathered in this coastal town had used sailboats. No motors.

 

“We’re working on semaphore stations. Of course, that will only unite those of us on this small island,” MacKinnon said, referring to Britain. “We are working on preparing boats sufficient to cross to Ireland and on to America. Surely there are pockets of rebellion there.”

 

“The gun-toting crazies we read about all the time in the US? Do we even want them?”

 

“I doubt that sort is still around. They’d have blazed away in the beginning and gotten themselves killed right off. Or joined the Bugs—” the Campbells’ name for the aliens had caught on fast among MacKinnon’s crew—“I can see them liking the power they’d get as enforcers for the enemy. No, I figure it’s going to be weirdos like us. Over there, the kinds who like to be outdoors, hikers and the like.”

 

“And librarians.” James figured that librarians would be the equivalent to Rory MacDonald’s Aunt Gertrude, who had proved both an intimidating figure and a brilliant tactician. Brilliant enough to give him credit for her ideas so his leadership wouldn’t be disputed. “Right. Let’s concentrate on securing our people and this place.”

 

He glanced up. One of the small alien ships was approaching; he’d learned to feel the vibration or something. Maybe it was all the tech they used, now setting off his own sensors after so long without electricity. He broke into a run.

 

Skidding into the crowded village square, where his people had set up a temporary camp, he shouted, “Clear the grounds! Get under cover!”

 

Practiced at such emergencies, Martha and Callum Campbell herded the children into a nearby shop. Rory and his sweetheart, Claire Campbell, joined with Angus in disguising their carts and tents as random detritus. It would mean a bunch of extra work when the people came out of hiding, but they’d be moving into the new Headquarters building anyway.

 

Peter and Molly, the eleven-year-old twins, were already settling their livestock in the building they’d been assigned as a barn, and were out of sight with their animals.

 

In five minutes, the square was deserted, their goods looking like the detritus of an abandoned village. In five more minutes, the alien ship passed over, it’s chill shadow blotting out the sun for a minute.

 

Someone poked a head out of a door, and James called from his own doorway, “Not yet. I’ve a hunch they’ll pass back over before moving on.” It was a common strategy that had nearly caught them a few times.

 

It was vital that the aliens not know that the number of people in this little village was rising daily. The arrival of the Campbell clan of over two dozen was going to be hard to hide.

 

When the ship had passed over once again, James blew the whistle he’d carved from a twig on long night watches. His people came back out of hiding, and he issued orders for the move. As people jumped to repack and relocate, Claire stopped beside James.

 

He smiled at his niece, or 3^rd cousin as the case might have been. Niece would do; he felt avuncular enough. “What?”

 

“Is there enough room in that great pile we’re moving into to set up a schoolroom?”

 

That wasn’t what he’d expected. Claire explained. “We’re going to be here a bit, right? And it’s September. The kids should be back in school. If they stay out and grow up ignorant, that’s another way the Bugs win, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes.” He hadn’t even considered this. “Who will teach them?”

 

She blushed. “I was almost done with my degree when the Bugs came. Just needed to do my practice teaching. So, I guess it’s me.”

 

“A one-room schoolhouse. You could have been one of those schoolmarm’s in the old Westerns.” He grinned. “You know what happened to most of them.” Swept off their feet and carted away into holy matrimony. From her blush, she knew, all right. And maybe had plans in that direction already, from the way she and Rory kept company. Well, she could do worse, even in their little band.

 

He gave her his blessing and moved on to the next problem.

 

*

“What do you think, Archie? You want to join the semaphore crew? Figure out how to set up something our people can see and the Bugs won’t notice?”

 

“If it’s all the same to you, Chief, that’s Rory’s sort of thing, that is. Me, I want to join the boat builders.”

 

“And sail with them when the time comes?”

 

Archie gazed off the parapet that surrounded the tower atop their new HQ. “Perhaps. There isn’t much for me here, Chief. Maybe there isn’t over there, either.” He nodded out at the water. “But we can try Ireland first, then on to America. Canada, I think. Canadians  are good at keeping a low profile, and they have a lot of land to disappear into.”

 

“The trick is finding the rebels—or being found by them—without being caught by the Bugs.”

 

“That it is. I’ll leave it to you to figure out how that will work. You did fine here.”

 

He hadn’t done fine with this village. Gertrude had known, somehow. He’d just done what she told him, but Archie didn’t know that.

 

James left Archie on watch on the tower. He needed to talk to Gertrude MacDonald. No doubt he’d find her with Annie MacKinnon. Ian, too, was afflicted with a matriarch who knew how to run things. They were safe for the moment, but he still didn’t know how they were going to stay that way. The gods willing, the two old ladies between them would have some answers.

 

 

©Rebecca M. Douglass, 2023

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