They worked the entire night cleaning up the Hutchins farm. Isaka nearly collapsed after the second corpse she tried to help haul to the fire pit. Wendy forced her to go inside and help with the wounded. “You’re done girl, go find a place to crash.” Isaka did as she was told. When she entered the barn where the injured were being kept, she was happy to find that most of the injuries were relatively minor. Only a few had to be driven to the tri-county hospital, and those were long gone by the time she stumbled through the doors.

There were still occasional gunshots, as they found wounded gangsters, and either arrested or ended them. The gunshots from surprised and desperate gangsters were usually followed by a dozen more from the defenders before silence reigned again.

After a few minutes helping the wounded by changing bandages wounds, the man in charge shooed her away from the work. “Go find somewhere to lie down. You’re practically falling asleep on your feet.” She found an empty part of the barn with warm and soft hay and crawled into it. In seconds, she fell asleep.

When she finally woke, she was still tired, but able to function. Barely. She found a pot of cold coffee from the night before and downed nearly all of it into an oversized mug someone had left out for her. Most of the people had gone home, but the ‘strong’ ones had mostly stayed. They needed to talk. Before she walked outside, she read several pieces of information the system was desperately trying to get her to pay attention to. Rolling her eyes at the blinking message icon practically in the middle of her vision, Isaka opened them.

Congratulations! You have slain, Butch Golden Tooth, level 9! XP gained 1,300.

Level up! You have gained 1 unassigned level. Current unassigned levels: 7.

Congratulations! You have learned the skill: Strike from the Shadows! Current rank: 1. This is a ‘Magical’ skill that requires 1 mana per minute to maintain. Effect: shrouds you and those within 5 ft of you in a veil of un-noticeability as long as you are in shadow. This grants a +10 bonus to stealth checks of all kinds while active.

Congratulations! You have learned the skill: Mana Pool! Current rank: 1.

Congratulations! You have learned the skill: Mana Generation! Current rank: 1.

Congratulations! A previous skill or ability you have from your past has ‘Synergized’ or unlocked another skill or ability! Old Skill Synergized: Meditation. New Ability Gained: Mana Recovery. Increases mana recovery by +1% for each minute active. Warning: The continuous use of this ability is strenuous to the body and will cause physical harm if maintained for too long.

“Huh, I guess that eastern mambo jumbo actually paid off. Thanks Grandpa.” She said as she minimized everything and went in search of whoever was left. Isaka found the higher leveled people who had stayed behind talking behind the barn as she sipped her cold brew. There were five of them. The sheriff, her house sized Uncle Lary, a man from Daggett County she didn’t know but suspected was its sheriff, and the Mayor of Vernal. The central town of the entire basin.

“I honestly don’t think help is coming. At least, not for a while.” Barnes said, shaking his head sadly.

“Most likely if someone from the state or feds does show up, it’ll be to draft the lot of us.” The man from Daggett said.

“If they do, the entire tri-county area will devolve into pure lawlessness. We need high-level people to keep order.” Lary said as he looked down at a message on his phone.

“I’ve heard that because we’re so close to that portal thing, the entire area might get drafted into a support role for the fort. They already have surveyors up there. Someone leaked the plans for the entire base on the internet a few days ago.” The Mayor of Vernal said. He was a slightly pudgy man. He had lived in the basin his entire life, and took his role as the head of the central hub for the region pretty seriously. At least, Isaka thought he did from the few times he had heard him speak.

“Yeah, I saw that,” Isaka said, butting into the conversation. “They’re turning the entire northern side of the King range into some kind of artillery gun line or something. Going to riddle that entire area with tunnels, bases, and such. According to the website the government setup two days ago there are going to be six support bases for each fort, each specializing in something specific. Food, weapons and equipment repair, facilities, medical, that kind of thing. I could see the basin becoming one. Maybe the Ute tribe becoming a second?”

”We’ll see,” Larry said as he put his phone away. “Just got a message saying some fed looking helicopters just flew over to Roosevelt looking for something.” The group fell silent. The basin had already had several youths taken in the draft. Adding that to the number of men and women who had been recalled to active service a month ago, and the area was getting depopulated of people who could stand up against bullies pretty quickly. Half the vernal PD got reactivated, including several members of Vernal and Roosevelt city councils.

The mayor cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, we have a lot of farms and ranches in the area. And the tribe has a lot of room out there I could see them using as a staging base. If they really needed it, I could even see them seizing the oil fields on both fed, native, and local land and running it all through the tribe.”

Everyone there got real quiet. The tribe didn’t have good relations with the rest of the basin. Not really. Natives mixed in a lot with the rest of everyone. That was true. There was no social segregation or anything, not really. But the organizations that supported tribal members, and the local counties, cities, and towns, really didn’t get along. At all. There was always a lawsuit about land rights, water rights, or whose dog ate whose cow. Someone was always filing against someone, or some campaign slogan that was rude sparked Facebook outrage sparked some kind of animosity. Most of it was pretty petty to Isaka’s thinking, just people being bad neighbors to each other running both directions. Rubbing shoulders the wrong way and not forgiving when the dust settled on old grievances.

“Someones going to have to go out there and tell the business council. They won’t take my calls, not after how the Leroy Junction lawsuit ended last year.” The mayor said, shaking his head.

“I would go, but I have to round up the stragglers before they can cause too much trouble.” Sheriff Barnes said as he checked his phone. “Sorry, text from a deputy. Got to go. If yall decide, someone call me and tell me.” As he left, the others all agreed.

Isaka cleared her throat. “I’ll go. I’ll need to borrow a Jeep or four wheeler though. The council doesn’t know me from Adam. You send me with a letter on the official letterhead, Mayor, and I’ll take it out there. We’ll set up some kind of meeting.” No one objected. At about noon Isaka took off south, headed towards the Ute reservation. Her rifle slung across her back, and her sister in the seat next to her riding shotgun. With an actual shotgun in her hands.

---

“Oh, come on,” Isaka said, exasperated. “At least open the door for pete’s sake.” The door to the tribal council building didn’t open. Or even budge. She grunted and pounded on the door again. She heard whispering and so she stopped.

“White women are crazy. . .” Was all she heard before deciding to pound on the door again. Her sister was trying not to bust a gut. The smirk on her face was infuriating, only adding to the strength Isaka used to pound on the door.

“I’m not even white! I’m half Japanese, you native jerks!” she shouted as she kept pounding on the door. Isaka stopped to shout again. “It took me four hours to get out here. You better open this door or so help me I’ll kick it down!”

“Oh, this is stupid! Open the door for that girl right now!” Isaka heard a hard thumping sound, a few groans of pain, followed by the jingling of keys and the unlocking of the door. She stepped back and smiled as a short, stocky, and rather mean looking elder woman with silver black hair appeared in the doorway. “What do you want?” Isaka held out the letter, and the woman snatched it up, opened it, and read it right there on the steps. As she was reading, two tall and much younger men opened the door wider and stood behind the woman. One was around Isaka’s age, the other was roughly her fathers if she had to guess. The younger one was rubbing the back of his head, while the older one was clearly trying to ignore the bruise that was still growing along his upper arm.

Dang, Isaka thought. Don’t make old people around here mad. They carry a wallop. The elder harrumphed and folded the letter, stowing it in her pocket.

“That man wants to share police forces? Why should we? We’re doing just fine. The last bunch of rowdy city folk that came out here we sent home bruised and knowing better than to mistreat old people.”

Isaka pulled out her cell phone and dialed the mayor’s number. “Just talk to him about it, I’m no good at all that.” The old woman rolled her eyes, took the phone and went back inside. Before she disappeared, she called back to the two men.

“Let those ladies inside, and offer them some water. It’s 108 degrees out there, you brutes!” And so the two did. They brought them water bottles and showed Isaka and Wendy to a small waiting room in the quadruple wide that operated as the tribe’s local offices. The older man eventually left, leaving the younger one there to watch them.

“I’m sorry about my grandma and father. Grandma is a bit of a grouch, and dad, well. He doesn’t trust anyone not from the tribe.”

“Why’d she hit you?” Wendy asked with a wicked smile.

“I uh, I got in the way.” He grinned and sat down on a couch opposite them. “Don’t worry, I’m level 4, and put most of my attribute points in a mix of physical and mental stats. This should heal up in a few minutes.” Isaka had wondered about that. The strike she heard sounded solid, especially from an oak cane like the one his grandma used.

“Glad you’re okay.” Wendy said as she put her feet up on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

“Yeah, a head injury like that can really screw someone up if you’re not careful.” Isaka smiled at the man. “I’m Isaka. We’re from the northern part of the basin.”

“Oh look, she’s going to act all nice and cute now because she thinks you’re hot.” Isaka’s face burned. “When just a second ago you were threatening to storm the place like a damned SWAT team. You can’t fool these people, little sis.” She was going to kill Wendy on the ride home. Sure, he was handsome, but she was trying to be polite. Not, flirt. At least, not yet. She didn’t even know his name.

“Don’t worry, my sisters are the same way.” The handsome native man said as he leaned back on the couch. “You say one nice thing to another non-married human and suddenly you’re flirting. My name is Red-wind by the way.”

“Why?” Isaka asked.

“What?”

“Why are you named Red-wind? My name is Isaka. My parents named me that based on a Japanese legend that surrounds the moon and an ancient family shrine our great grandfather used to tend. Seven tasks that can only be performed under the moon, or something.

Wendy scoffed. “The seven tasks Isaka. “Wendy turned to Red-wind. “It’s a local legend about seven tasks that must be performed under every full moon in the shrine or else a great evil will escape from under it. If done right, the tasks bring good luck, and healthy children.” Wendy gave her younger sister a wicked grin and Isaka pointedly ignored her.

”Don’t ask me what they are, I don’t know. So, Isaka, the kanji means . . . well it means a lot of things but moon, and that fable are main ones.”

“The origin of my name, huh? Okay, fair enough. Well, we rarely share that with just anyone.” He looked uneasy for a moment. “But, seeing as you shared your name’s origin with me, let me share mine with you. At least, the gist of it. I. . .”

“He was born in the middle of a sandstorm out among the red rock in a canyon when his mother and father decided it was a good idea to go hiking rather than staying at the health center.” His grandmother said as she barged through the door into the room, barely using her cane. “Alright, I’ve talked with that toadstool. It sounds like things are bad. You were brave for bringing me that letter girl, and right to do it. We have not been in contact with the outside world properly since the system came online, and the great spirits started talking again.” Isaka noticed a sound in the distance. It quickly grew louder and rattled the windows of the prefabricated building. “But I’m sad to say I think you might be too late.”