Prompt Rides - 17. Central Committee

“That fucking cunt! She blames the shortages on the weather, and defends rationing by the Committee, claiming it’s done for the common good. Horse shit! If resources were properly allocated, there would be no shortages. Instead, she and those she favors, are well supplied, remain warm, and lack for nothing. The rest of us? We suffer.” It was cold outside; I was tired, filthy, and in a bad mood. “The bitch’s all nice in public, talking about how much she cares for everyone, but all she really cares about is herself. We work, and we pay taxes, which line the pockets of the puppets she has surrounded herself with.”

“Quiet, lad.” My father was helping me pull the sled; piled high with bags of coal, we’d liberated from the abandoned mine. “You’re next in line to rule our clan, can’t have our future leader being arrested. The very rocks have ears these days. What if someone hears, and reports you? Be happy we’ll be warm, when the storm hits us.”

“But, da, it’s not fair.” Over the past fifty years, winters had grown longer, growing seasons shorter and our ability to speak our minds had all but disappeared. “We toil from dawn to dusk, the leeches benefit from our efforts, yet we struggle to remain alive.”

“Aye, it may not be fair, Cailin, but it is what it is. Hurry now, lad; we must finish the preparations, before the tempest reaches us.” Alastair MacDougall, my father, was a strong man, he held the thick rope in his gloved hands, and steadily pulled the sled―his step never faltered. Crossing the northernmost section of frozen Loch Etive, we approached our village. Da had told us of the times the sea loch never froze, when he was a youngster. Now the ice was thick enough to walk on.

Ma, my wife, and the rest of the women, were back at the compound. They were cooking whatever game my brothers, uncles, and cousins had brought in from the hunt. As extremely fierce storms approached, we congregated at the ancestral compound of our leaders. We all then rushed, to complete as much of our emergency preparations as possible, before the power grid faltered, and electricity was cut. The old, cast iron, potbelly stoves, used to keep the living quarters warm, would also reheat the precooked meals.

While the men worked at sealing all openings, which might allow the cold gales to sweep into the large house, the children were busy readying the big communal room. It would serve as sleeping space, during the worst of the weather, for all unmarried men and women. Wedded couples, and infants, would fill the rooms on the second floor. Above that, the space would be sealed off; there would be no need to waste fuel heating the upper two levels. But there was one final task only the leader and his heir could perform. I dreaded it.

“If we’re trapped inside, for an extended period, there’s not enough food stored in the basement for the entire clan to survive.” My father’s face was somber as he spoke to me. I pray to the Gods I never need to have the same conversation with my son. “We’ll try to hold out as long as possible, but if the time comes, you must be strong. The survival of the next generation, of MacDougalls themselves, will depend on you performing your duty.”

“Is there any other way, da?”

“No there isn’t. I’ll sharpen the blades when we get inside. If it comes to it, I’ll take care of your mother, and any others who step forward. We want the bitch, and her puppets, to see what their greed has led to. It will be up to you, to make certain my head, and all the other ones, are sent to the capital.”