Once Upon an Orc by Dani Wyatt
ChapterOne
Aleena
Five years ago, the idea of living in a compound with ten-foot cinder-block walls topped with supermax prison style razor wire never crossed my mind.
Yet, here I am. Funny what one little orc invasion will do to your life.
“It’s your move.” My younger sister smirks from across the game table in her bedroom where we play chess every morning after breakfast. As most days, today’s morning meal was bacon and eggs Benedict. In that order; six slices of bacon, one egg Benedict style. Katya’s favorite.
My father always makes sure what brings her joy, he provides. As best he can in this new world, anyway.
I couldn’t eat. Breakfast is never my favorite meal but this morning, swallowing anything felt impossible. It’s far from ideal. The last few months, my blood sugar has been wonky and I’ve even passed out a couple times when I didn’t eat.
I haven’t told my father. He doesn’t need more worry and he counts on me to be strong. And, strong I will be.
The chess board is nearly full as this particular chess game of ours is only two days old, Katya and I are equally matched, and we’re both painfully competitive. And slow. Over analyzing every move ad nauseam.
“I’m getting to it!” I snap with that tone only sisters can understand. “I’m thinking.”
Katya rolls her eerie golden-green eyes, the way Mom used to do when Dad would tell his horrible jokes. Truth is, I see my mother in Katya more and more lately and it always makes my heart ache. My chest clenches, wondering how our lives would be different if Mom had lived through those first crazy months of battles and territory grabs when the orcs returned.
My parents were hard working. They emigrated from Bulgaria with their families, who were sworn enemies, when my father was five and my mother was an infant.
Over the years, the families battled it out for power in the streets of New York over territory for food carts and Taxi service routes.
Eventually, Mom and Dad fell in love. It was forbidden, but love conquers and all that. When I came along, the families dropped all their petty nonsense, everyone relocated to Mt. Baker, Oregon, of all places. It was a map, a blindfold and a finger that placed the families in the top northwest corner of the US, but from there, life was good. Better than good. We lost all our grandparents over the years to nothing but a life lived with too much nicotine, vodka and other unhealthy lifestyle habits but my memories of them are fond.
“Do you ever think about getting married?” Katya asks, turning toward the window where the treetops are budding into the spring leaves.
It reminds me of one of the many things my father has taught me. He always said that trees actually bud before winter settles in. The buds must survive the long cold months, then at spring’s warmth, they are ready to burst forth to live again.
I look from the board to Katya, who is fussing with the gold charm bracelet on her wrist that belonged to Mom. I wait for a beat in silence, just looking at her, then she turns back and finishes her thought.
“I just finished reading Pride and Prejudice. I bet people still get married if they aren’t in occupied land. Here in the badlands, I can’t imagine anyone gets married anymore.”
Her eyes drift to mine, seeking the answer I can’t give. I shift my pawn to E6 as her gaze flicks to the board, then toward the swaying branches of the tree. Eight sets of leaded glass windows adorn the walls in her room, all framed with heavy velvet and tapestry drapes. Her massive four-poster king sized bed centers the room. There’s a sitting area, a small gaming nook and a full wall of bookcases. And there’s still enough space for a volleyball court at the other end. This room alone is bigger than our entire house in the before time.
Our father always preaches that opportunity sometimes comes wrapped in an ugly package, but it’s opportunity, nonetheless.
The orcs return was his opportunity, in a way. He went from a low-level chemist at a USDA facility working on fertilizers and GMO research, to being the Walter White of the post-orc invasion. I remember those first months in vivid color and surround sound. Mammoth orcs invading our neighborhood, wielding swords and axes like we were caught in some nightmare video game. They burned houses, destroying whatever and whoever stepped into their path.
And that included our mother. After we abandoned our home, we lived in our van. One morning, my mother tried to help a young man who was being pummeled by a gang of orcs. Maybe the right thing to do, but what happened to her was very wrong.
My father grieved the loss just as I did, just as Katya did. But in a matter of months, he’d recreated himself. He provided a new life for us in the only way he knew how.
Chemistry.
Now, behind the walls of our compound, we live in this castle with priceless artwork and abundant food. With Katya and me, our father is still the man we knew, loving, nurturing, smart and kind. But outside of this house, his heart is black and his ambition and ruthlessness know no limits.
A shiver shakes my shoulders as Katya stares at the chessboard, her bright blue dress in contrast to my dark jeans, tactical boots, thermal shirt, and the knife on my hip. The parts of the country the government deemed ‘recoverable’ go on almost as though nothing happened, while here, in the occupied land—and worse, where we live in the badlands—it feels like we’ve been transported back to medieval times.
Law is scarce and corrupt in a way I never understood as a child. The Judicial Enforcement, the law enforcement in the occupied territory, is more a bunch of sanctioned mafiosi with badges and blue military uniforms. My father’s operation functions under their unspoken governance. They provide little protection from orcs and invaders but are sure to take their slice of the profits at every opportunity.
I hate them, but in this indifferent, detached sort of way. The orcs are another story. They are the reason we are motherless, and the reason I barely sleep.
When things calmed down after the first battles and chaos, I thought life would go back to some semblance of normalcy. Wrong.
Division and hate from both sides sent the country into a turmoil that was tensely resolved by sectioning off the United States into areas where orcs would occupy most of the designated territory. They do not like heat and sunshine. So, the upper northwest has been cordoned off as sort of an ‘every-man-for-himself’ area since it was less populated and less powerful than the states in the northeast. And, much to our surprise, it is where my father turned drug king pin dug in and established himself as a new dictator in our compound just south of Glenrose.
In this new normal, I learned what true strength is. How to leave fear behind. I learned to fight and that I was good at it. The archery lessons my mother insisted I take at the age of twelve paid off. I practice three hours a day now and can shoot a grape off a fence post at thirty paces.
“Check,” Katya says, smiling. Her left cheek dents with a deep dimple. She turned thirteen last week, a teenager, and we had a party here at the mansion with just Dad, Katya, me and her bodyguards, Dimi and Roger, as well as her tutors and the nannies she insists she no longer needs. “You walked right into that. You’re not paying attention.”
I saw her move coming, but I need to get things done today and I’m so tired. Sleep is a challenge but last night, the nightmares were relentless. After the second one, I gave up and went to my desk, organizing and reading so I’ve had an hour or so of sleep and I’m dragging. We have a huge shipment of smikkaan being picked up tomorrow by a new clan from the east and it’s making me edgy.
“Yes, just didn’t sleep well.” I catch sight of a blue jay settling on a branch outside the window as a knock on the bedroom door draws our attention.
“Girls.” My father pokes his head through the opening. His deep blue eyes are tired, like mine I’m sure. “Everyone okay in here? The battle rages on the board still, I see.”
“Hi, Papa.” Katya’s face brightens.
She doesn’t know the truth or details of the person my father has become, nor what it is we do here that allows us to live in luxury behind our stone walls while much of the occupied territory is in ruin. She believes my father manufactures specialized, and top secret, fertilizers for the government. It’s flimsy, but so far, she hasn’t questioned his cover story.
“I have Aleena in check,” she quips, poking her tongue out at me.
“Ah, very good.” He approaches, wearing his signature khakis and blue button-down Oxford shirt. “You can finish her off later.” He winks at me then rubs Katya’s head, messing her smooth blonde hair. “I need your sister for some work.”
Katya twists her lips on a pout as Marjory, her Latin and Philosophy tutor, follows my father into the room. “I want to go to work,” she huffs, crossing her arms. “Latin sucks.”
“You do your lessons. That’s your job,” Father says, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
She makes a hrumphing sound as I push back from the table, looking around at her bedroom. It’s as neat as a pin thanks to the five maids we employ. Between them, they keep this mini-Versailles immaculately clean, according to my father’s detailed and merciless instructions.
A year or so ago, there was one maid, Rebecca, that left a toilet brush laying on the floor next to the commode in Katya’s bathroom. A few days later, I found her bloody uniform, name tag still in place, in the dumpster behind the warehouse.
I catch Katya’s annoyed, narrow eyes and say, “I’ll come back in a bit. I’ll have Trevor make us pizza for lunch. I think I saw a whole case of Cherry Coke in the pantry from the last delivery,” I finish, pushing a smile to my lips.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” Father says as Katya reaches for his hand.
“Can we play Once Upon A Time tonight?” Her eyes twinkle as my father’s go dark.
“Of course. I’d love that.” He pulls her hand upward, kissing the backs of her fingers. Once Upon A Time is a game my mother always played with us. She would start with, “Once upon a time…” and we would take turns filling in what came next.
The stories took some twists and crazy turns, but my mother always kept us on track and they always ended with a happily ever after.
Katya claps as my father tips his head toward the door. I pass the tutor, who doesn’t make eye contact. I’ll admit, I’m not all cotton candy and rainbows to the staff either. I’m not cruel but I’m no one’s friend. My father and Katya are the only ones who matter. Everyone else is just part of the machine my father has built to keep us safe and our lifestyle secure.
Well, to keep Katya safe, at least.
It’s not that he loves her more, it’s that he sees my mother in her. And, she’s young, naïve. She’s always been delicate, prone to every cold or germ that’s floating in the air. Her hair is honey blonde, straight as an arrow and as smooth as silk where mine is the same color, but in waves and unruly curls I have no interest in taming.
I’ve thought of myself as more like my father’s son without a penis since our lives changed. I’ve always been harder, tougher, but after the orc return and the loss of my mom, I turned into Teflon.
Where Katya has a closet full of brightly-colored dresses and fanciful costumes she wears at her whim, mine is full of black and brown without a dress to be found.
The orcs aren’t the only threat in this new world. There’s plenty of human filth that’s taken root here in the occupied land. The Neo-human Coalition, they’re called, and they rape and pillage their way through what’s left of neighborhoods and the small pockets of humans that remain here trying to build a life in the center of the storm.
Father shoots me a hard look when we step into the hall. “I need you to handle the issue with the guards from yesterday.”
I nod as his demeanor changes the farther we walk from Katya’s bedroom. “I will. I already told Damon to bring them to your office at ten.”
“Do what you need to do. I have to be in the lab, there’s a problem with one of the condensers and those stupid fucks that are supposed to know how to fix it, fucked it up beyond belief.” He turns the corner to the back staircase where two hulking guards stare straight ahead as we pass. “They won’t be a problem again,” he adds.
It’s a long time since I stopped wondering where the bodies go when someone around here disappears.
We descend the stairs in silence and move past more guards, more staff, until we hit the pathway between the house and the main building where we have offices and the production facilities for the smikkaan and ivee we sell and distribute. It’s a stunning morning, birds are chirping and the grass is greening up after a long, gray winter. But, over the far east fence, the sky is turning angry and there’s a coolness whispering through the morning warmth, making me shiver again.
The drugs we manufacture are addictive as fuck to the orcs, and my father is the largest producer in the occupied territory and probably the entire country. His background as a chemist, as well as what he learned from my mother’s degree in pharmacological studies, created a perfect storm for him to become the kingpin of drug distribution in this new world.
He punches the numbers into the keypad on the side entrance to the enormous box-style structure. Inside we pass more staff who all move aside, keeping their eyes averted.
“I’ll be up later,” my father says as I head toward the main stairway to the second floor, where his office is.
“I’ll be here. I’ll take care of things.”
He nods as he walks away. “I know you will. I can always count on you, Aleena.”
His affirmation warms and chills me at the same time. I want his approval, I respect him, but also, there are times I wonder when our razor-wire surrounded house of cards will come crashing down. All I want is a life I can count on. The quiet security we had before but the machine that my father has built here he will not give up without a fight.
Even with me.
Being at the top of anything makes you a target and we’ve been raided and attacked more times than I can count. My father always adds more guards, more security, more razor wire, but when you have something everyone else wants, and those people—or orcs—are desperate, they will risk everything to take what we have. I’ve done my share of killing in this new world and surprisingly, I excel at it. Remorse seems to be an emotion I no longer experience.
Halfway up the stairs on the landing, there’s a bank of windows that overlook the section of fence where the twelve-foot-tall chain-link security gate allows armored vehicles and trucks in and out. There’s a semi pulling up and for some reason the cab catches my eye. It’s oversized, orc sized I should say, and as the guard steps out of the security shack to approach the driver’s door something in the back of my mind screams no.
Something isn’t right. I can feel it in that unnamed, sixth-sense organ deep down inside me.
The guard reaches up for the orc inside to hand him the clearance documents we require, then, there’s an explosive boom that shakes the building. My blood turns cold as the guard next to the semi falls to the ground, an ax buried in his skull, and the truck barrels forward through the still-closed gate as the alarms blare and red flashing lights go off all around me.
I take the stairs two at a time. It’s not the first time we’ve been raided and it won’t be the last. My first thought is always of Katya and I race into my father's office and slam the panic button that shuts down the main house and its security gates, cutting it off from the rest of the compound. Once it’s activated, it has to be overridden from inside, and I breathe easier knowing that Katya’s bodyguards will sweep her away into the safe room my father had built after the first attack. The attackers have yet to focus on the house. What they want is in the warehouse and the manufacturing buildings, but making Katya safe no matter what has always been my father’s focus.
I throw the lock on the office door, then lunge toward the windows to look outside.
This is a large scale and coordinated attack. Not just some junkie orcs desperate for their fix. There are more orcs than ever before, and they aren’t the usual ivee-heads and thugs.
One massive orc draws my eye, towering over the rest as they run in groups. He raises a hand and points as he shouts orders. The others listen, then move in the direction of the main warehouse, but as I watch, another orc leaps down from the passenger side of the truck while it’s still moving.
There’s something different about him. He’s bald, that’s a first and my mouth turns dry, my brain freezes the action for a split second as I’m completely focused on him. Heat washes over me as my nipples turn to pebbles beneath my shirt and my legs are wobbly. I clench my pelvic muscles against the rising tide, shaking my head, cursing myself for this fevered and bizarre reaction.
As the bald, lumbering orc steps toward the leader, yelling, they exchange heated words with furrowed brows and waving arms. They don’t seem to be working in concert, but finally, they both break into a run toward the main door below, as others fan out behind, some heading for the storage warehouse and a few others, toward the house.
I hold my breath. This is different. They don’t just want what the drugs, they want it all.