Refuge - 4. Chapter 4: Constructing Refuge

Constructing Refuge

Calvin

I felt Uncle George stirring, and opened my eyes. The room was dark. There was no light behind the curtains. It was not yet dawn.

“What …?” I asked.

“A visitor. He is expected. The men are handling it. Go back to sleep.” Uncle George put his arm over me and then pulled me close. He was warm; the air in the room was cold. I snuggled against him, and went back to sleep.

Gary and Nemesis popped in while we were at breakfast. Between hugs and kisses among Gary, Uncle George, Nemesis, Kevin, Bobby, and me it was twenty minutes before we got outside. Yeah, Gary and Uncle George hugged one another. It was a hetero-guy-back-slapping kind of hug, even though I knew they both were gay. Wonder how long the Platonic stuff will last before they…? I buried that thought deep inside my mind.

After breakfast, we went out to check on the visitor Uncle George had said not to worry about. There was a tractor-trailer parked near the concrete slab that had been poured a couple of weeks ago. Ranch hands and construction guys were all over the place.

“This truck brought the pre-fabricated structural parts to build the pavilion,” Mr. Clancy said. He was Gary’s construction foreman from Chicago, and had come in with a crew to pour the slab and do a bunch of surveying. “During construction, we’ll use it to store materials out of the weather,” he added. Gary had already explained that the pavilion would be a place for picnics, parties, and such after that. It would have restrooms, a stage, and a kitchen.

While we were talking, another truck arrived. It was a flatbed with a tracked crane and a cute little front-end loader-bulldozer contraption. A couple of hours later, more of Mr. Clancy’s construction crew arrived in three campers. Then, for weeks and weeks, truck arrived by ones and twos, never more than that, and always hours or days apart. They were from a bunch of different companies, and none of them said on their sides anything like what they actually carried. Gary had recruited some Army buddies to handle what he called opsec: operational security. Their job was to make sure we didn’t call the wrong kind of attention to the ranch or the canyon.

The first thing Mr. Clancy’s people built was another bunkhouse and a dining hall for the construction crews. Then they started on what they called cabins—cabins with eighteen bedrooms and bathrooms, a huge common room, and a kitchen and dining room that could feed at least forty people. As soon as the first cabins were complete, boys from Erewhon and the construction crews’ families started arriving.

I’d been afraid of ticky-tacky, but these people were good. What they built looked like a cross between an old west ghost town and a dude ranch. In fact, when we heard the rumor floating around Silver City that we were building a dude ranch, we encouraged it. The developers who wanted to foreclose us came out to see. They even sent prospective “dudes” to try to get a closer look.

Casey

“What a cute little cowboy!” The woman wore stiletto heels, brand-new blue jeans, and an embroidered blouse. She was talking to me. It was Saturday: my boyfriend Aiden and I were visiting the ranch. Calvin had gone to work with Uncle George at his other job. You know, checking on dead people.

“You are so precious,” the woman continued. Her words gushed like a stallion pissin’ on a flat rock. “I could just eat you up!”

“My boyfriend wouldn’t like that, ma’am,” I said. I touched the front edge of my ten-gallon hat. It was cowboy-shorthand for tipping my hat to a lady, although seeing how much makeup she was wearing, I was pretty sure she wasn’t a lady.

“May I help you?” I asked.

The woman either didn’t understand what I had said about my boyfriend, or didn’t believe me.

“I hear you’all are a’ buildin’ a dude ranch, and we’d like to offer our services. I,” she said, and then touched her hand to her bosom. “I am a singer, and my husband is my pianist. You must have a dance hall or saloon that’s gonna needs a honky-tonk piano player and an attractive singer. You could take me to whoever is in charge . . . .”

There wasn’t anything worse than a Yankee trying to talk Texan, ’cept maybe a Yankee driving a Beemer with a rifle rack in the back window. It just didn’t work. She was trying to talk Texan, but I could tell she wasn’t from around here.

“Actually, ma’am,” I said. “My brother and I own this ranch. Since he’s out ropin’ cattle now, I guess I’m the one in charge.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, little cowboy,” the woman’s eyes narrowed.

“We have all the entertainers we need,” I said. “We will not be hiring, more. Now, we have to get back to work. I must ask you to leave.”

Two of the ranch hands had arrived by then, summoned by my thoughts. It had taken us a long time to figure out that these men were not ordinary people: they were Scions of Hermes—the green-scaled dudes. Aiden had showed me how to see them like that. You didn’t have to see the Scions the way they really were to be afraid of them. They all looked like old-timey cowboys who wouldn’t take crap from anybody. Oh, and like everyone else, they wore six-shooters—usually .38’s—because of snakes and coyotes. The woman probably thought mine was a toy. What a jerk!

The man’s hand shook when he reached for the car door handle. “Come on, dear,” he said. “I think we’ve seen enough.”

Calvin

Uncle George had cut short his regular work and returned to the ranch. He was nervous … I could tell. I asked him what was wrong.

“Something wicked this way comes,” he said.

“Macbeth,” I said. “ ‘By the pricking of my thumbs/Something wicked this way comes.’ What is it?”

“Mars,” he said. Now, he was Death, and not Uncle George.

I put my hand on my six-shooter. Death frowned. “Wouldn’t do any good,” he said. “And you’re not to stand up against him. Do you understand?”

I bristled a little, and then backed down. I realized I was out of my league: this wasn’t a ranch thing, where I was in charge, it was a god thing. Oh, shit! Uncle George isn’t even a full god … just an avatar!

“Doesn’t matter,” Death said. He had heard my thoughts. “Death has defeated Mars, before, and he knows it. He may bluster and stomp around, and try to scare some of the mortals, but he cannot harm us.”

I don’t know who was more surprised, Uncle George or me.

Mars stepped down from the cab of an olive-drab tractor-trailer. He looked at Death, and then at me. “You will need these things,” he said … to me. Then, he disappeared.

Several of the men had come up; Uncle George gestured to them. Two then opened the back of the trailer.

By the time the trailer was unloaded, we had an arsenal: semi-automatic rifles, .50-caliber machine guns, sniper rifles, 9-mm pistols, anti-tank rockets, shoulder-fired anti-aircraft rockets, mortars, and ammunition for them all.

Over the next few weeks, more olive drab trucks arrived, including a couple that held military HUM-V’s. Mars wasn’t with them. The drivers were “scions of Hermes.” Handy, that.

We knew it was going to be bad … but not this bad.

Casey

A little before supper, the boys gathered in the den. We were watching a DVD when Uncle George and Calvin came in. Some of the other adults, including Gary, followed.

“You need to see this,” Calvin said. He was talking in his serious voice. The one that had no emotion and said he was the boss. He took the remote and switched to a cable news channel.

“… dead. The two sects are in open warfare, now. They’re no longer simply sending suicide bombers, but have acquired tanks, armored personnel carriers, and heavy weapons. The capital is being pounded to rubble by explosions. People are streaming through the streets. Many have been gunned down before . . . ."

The man on the screen who had been talking stopped. He opened his mouth. A red blotch appeared on his shirt and grew … then the picture went black.

The studio appeared. It sounded like someone off-camera were upchucking. The announcer spoke. “We have lost our signal. That was correspondent Ali Khan. We’ll get back to Ali as soon as we can.”

Casey switched to another news channel. “… nuclear, yet; however, Israeli officials . . . ."

By now, the den was crowded. Gary gestured and Casey turned off the TV.

“Things are … getting pretty bad a lot of places,” Gary said. “The Arab Spring has backfired. The so-called moderate Islamists have revealed their true colors: starkly fundamentalist. They’ve implemented Sharia law throughout northern Africa and the Middle East. One sect is fighting another; they are united only in their opposition to Israel, other religions, and the Evil Empire, by which they mean the USA.

They will likely take over Turkey, Singapore, and Malaysia, soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t win the next elections in France and England, as well. Both countries are too tied to what they think of as democracy to defend themselves against this, Gary thought. I don’t dare say that, though. The words of the gods can create reality, and reality is bad enough without me making it worse.

“The right-wing fundamentalists in this country are up in arms to protect what they claim to be Christian values against the Islamists. They’re whipping people into a storm of hatred that has eclipsed even that which was created by the Roosevelt propaganda machine of World War II.

“You all know what we are trying to do, here. We’re creating a place of refuge for those we have promised to protect: the orphans and other children at Erewhon, as well as the staff; for Tom Clancy’s construction crews and their families who have given up their livelihoods and homes to come live and work here; and for other friends and their families.

“We can’t save the whole world. There are a lot of people out there who aren’t worth saving. Many of you have had first-hand experience with them. There are people out there who have lived off the labors of others, moochers and leaches on civilization. I don’t need to tell you about them: Ayn Rand did that quite well in Atlas Shrugged.

“There are a lot of people out there who deserve being saved, but we can’t save them all. That’s going to be hard on us.

“We’re going to have to work hard, but we’re not going to burn ourselves out. Especially you kids … there will always be time for play.”

Tisiphone

I know that I had pissed Nemesis off a couple of years ago when I told Dike that I didn’t want to work with him. It was when a bunch of crooked evangelicals had been operating an orphanage in Chicago without bothering to follow the fire code. When a fire broke out, children died. Dike charged Nemesis and me to extract vengeance on the men responsible. Nemesis is, of course, the god of Retribution. I am one of the Erinyes, also known as the Furies. We’re called “the Kindly Ones” by people who fear us. I’m the one named “Vengeful Destruction.” I have my own work, but sometimes I take jobs that are too difficult for Nemesis. Girls are, after all, stronger than boys in a lot of ways.

Dike had asked Nemesis and me if we wanted to work together. I told Dike I didn’t want to work with Nemesis. I knew boys were more sensitive to rejection than girls, but I didn’t think I’d ever need his help. Now, suddenly, I did. I knew where he probably was, and I knew what he was doing. I didn’t know if he’d help me. I had no choice. I translocated to Refuge Ranch, Texas.

My first impression was “this is beautiful!” My second impression was hostility. Within seconds, I was surrounded by boys. It didn’t take me more than an instant to realize that they were all gay. Oops!

“Who are you?” one asked. I cocked an eyebrow at him and was about to challenge him when I figured out … he’s got the law on his side. What’s the old saying? When the facts are against you, argue the law; when the law is against you, argue the facts.

I was about to start in with facts when another boy spoke. “She works for Dike, same as we do. Let her speak.”

I was almost grateful, but I wasn’t about to be grateful to a boy.

“I’m Tisiphone,” I said. “Nemesis knows who I am. So does Dike. Where’s Nemesis?”

“Not here,” the second boy said. “I’m Calvin. Why are you here?”

Calvin looked like he was a couple of years older than the others … not that appearance meant anything, but I saw him differently than mortal eyes would. He had the proper glow: he was a god, and probably more powerful than I. Not, however, more powerful than my sisters and I, together. Still, I was here because I needed help. It was not the time to play “mine’s bigger than yours.” I knew a lot about boys.

“I need help,” I said. There, I’d done it. I’d thrown myself on their mercy. What they didn’t know, and I did, was that boys that age were suckers for a sob-story, and I had a good one.

“Tisiphone,” the older boy said. “I am Calvin, and this is Refuge. Nemesis and his daddy are away, working, rescuing people and bringing them to safety.

“Dike? She’s not here, now, but she’ll probably be back in time for supper.” The boy giggled. I was a little surprised. He looked too old to giggle. Maybe it was a chuckle.

“We’re having lasagna, and Dike said she’d not missed an invitation to eat lasagna since she taught Machiavelli all he knew.”

Calvin paused, and then asked, “You said you needed help. What kind of help?”

I wasn’t sure I should tell him, but realized I had no choice. Refuge belonged to Calvin and his brother. Even the gods … strike that … even the other gods, since Calvin and Casey were gods … couldn’t tell them what to do. Authorities: what and where one has power, and where and over what one does not have power were clearly defined, even in cases like Nemesis and me, where we seemed to have the same job. If you think about it, though, you’ll figure out that “retribution” and “vengeance” are not the same.

“My sisters and I, we’ve rescued some girls from an orphanage in Alberta. We’ve taken them to an abandoned mining town nearby, but they’re in danger. People have seen our lights, and they think … they think there’s something there to steal.

“There’s not, but that won’t stop them from attacking. As soon as they realize there’s nothing but the girls, they …” I couldn’t continue.

“I understand,” Calvin said, “they’ll probably take out their frustrations on the girls. Guys? We have to do something, and we can’t wait for Dike or Gary. Besides, they have work to do.”

He looked at me. “How many girls?”

“Three hundred and seven,” I said. And held my breath.

Calvin was pretty impressive, for a boy. He asked Casey how quickly they could absorb 300-plus girls. Casey pulled out an iPhone and played with it. Boys and their toys, I thought, until he looked up.

“We can put boys on mattresses, and double up cabins 4—14 into 1—3 and 15—19 for the week or so it will take Tom to complete 20-29. The girls can go in 4—14. Thirty girls per cabin with seven with Mom and Susan in their cabin. They’ve got room, and Susan would probably like some friends. The girls shouldn’t have to double up,” he added, as if he knew someone was going to object.

I was impressed. Pretty decent for a boy, I thought. Even if he doesn’t understand that girls are tougher than boys. They could sleep under the stars on beds of cactus for a week, and not bat an eye. But real beds and hot water are sure nice.

“Transportation is going to be the hardest part,” Calvin said. “We’ll need defenses at the mining town until we get all the girls out. Tisiphone? What defense can you and your sisters provide, and can you work with Scions of Hermes?”

Good question. I was vengeful destruction; like Nemesis, I had significant power only after someone had done something that merited vengeance or had sworn a false oath. My sisters, Alecto and Megaera couldn’t do anything without me except harass people, and increase my power when circumstances justified it. Shit, I thought. Nothing, really.

Calvin looked at me. He knows. “Look, he said. Perhaps we need to turn all defenses over to the Scions. Can you and your sisters share power? With a boy, I mean? If you can, we can probably translocate the girls much faster, and that’s the only way we’re going to get them out of there in a hurry.”

“Yes,” I said, and called my sisters to me. They appeared. We linked, and drew power to us. A couple of the boys looked impressed … and then Calvin and two other boys linked. The Norns! I recognized him, then.

Calvin smiled. “Come on, Sisters, please take us to Alberta.”

Casey had the process of clearing cabins underway when we brought the first of the girls to Refuge. Calvin had us translocate to the front of a dining hall. He figured that the girls would be hungry, and he was right. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the staff fed the girls blueberry pancakes, bacon, and sausage, and, as if they knew some of the girls were vegetarian or vegan, steamed vegetables and tofu patties. My opinion of these boys went up another notch. Maybe two notches.

By suppertime, all the girls had been brought to the ranch and fed. All but the last batch, who were still eating, had been taken to a house, given towels and washcloths, bed linen, and a couple of sets of play clothes. Dike had arrived, but didn’t interfere. Hmmm, I thought. Boys may be a little more organized than girls. It was a hard admission to make. Calvin and I stood in a dusty courtyard watching the last of the girls being led to their homes.

“Calvin? You knew my sisters and I could not defend the girls, but you didn’t let anyone know you knew. You willingly joined your power with ours to translocate the girls.” I didn’t know whether to thank Calvin, or ask him why he’d acted that way. He knew that.

“It was the smart thing to do, and my daddy … you’ll meet him at supper. You and your sisters will stay for supper, won’t you, please? He has taught me to think before I act, and to figure out the smart way to do things. I didn’t think about whether you’d be embarrassed, like you think. I should have, but I’m not good at understanding people’s feelings. I was just trying to make the best use of resources.

“So, you really don’t have to thank me.”

“Thank you,” I said, anyway. “Thank you, Calvin, for rescuing my charges and for making them welcome at your ranch. And thank you for working so easily with a girl. I thought it was going to be hard to work with a boy. I think I have some thinking to do.”

Death

I knew when Tisiphone translocated to the ranch, but I also knew that she couldn’t cause trouble. I was, however, very proud of the way Calvin had handled the situation, and told him so.

“You showed leadership, today,” I said. “You proved in the eyes of the other boys—and the gods—that they are right to respect you and follow your instructions, not just because you own the ranch, but because you can be depended on to make the right decisions, which includes delegating.

“Do you know that Casey just about burst with pride when you gave him the responsibility for making room for the girls? Do you know that you made the right decision to bring those girls here?”

Calvin grinned. “There will be over 1,500 orphaned or thrown-away boys here. About 25%, same as the general population, are gay. That leaves about 1,100 boys who might like a girlfriend.”

He was right, and the three hundred girls were the beginning: more and more girls arrived. At some point, a balanced was reached.