White Spruce Ch 01

WHITE SPRUCE Chapter 1

This story got stuck in my head after a long weekend at a cottage near Barry's Bay (near Pembroke, Ontario, if you're interested). It takes place in the future, but I wouldn't characterize it as sci-fi. Thanks once again to my editors, Alianath Iriad and Lastman416.

*****

White Spruce Golf and Country Club, August 3, 2162

It was dark as hell - I remember that. There was quite a bit of cloud cover, and only a quarter moon. We had the headlights on our cart, and there were the warning lights atop the perimeter fence, of course, but they didn't provide much illumination.

There were just so many trees... trees to line the edge of the rough on the North Course, and then trees to hide the perimeter road and fence from view. More trees to hide the massive K-Vat batteries (which powered pretty much the whole facility), or the warehouses and helipads in the northeast corner. None of our golfers would want to see these reminders of the outside world while they were failing to repair their divots or lining up their approach shots on the 15th or 16th fairways.

But my partner and I weren't thinking about golf that night. Instead, we had stopped on the perimeter road to investigate something strange.

I'd spotted it first: it looked like a large branch had fallen against the inside of the fence. But that was plainly impossible, because the brush and small trees had been clear cut. There wasn't a shrub over five feet tall within 10 metres of either side of the fence.

- "What the hell

is

that?' said Trey.

On closer inspection, I could see a second large piece of wood, leaning against the

outside

of the fence, in the same spot. "It looks like

two

branches." I said. "Wait - are they connected at the top?"

- "Holy shit, Mike. It's a fucking

ladder

!"

Trey was right. The two pieces were joined together. It was an ingenious device; they'd managed to climb over a 14-foot fence, topped with razor wire, without actually touching the fence itself at any point - which was very wise on their part, because it was electrified.

I immediately turned off the cart, and the headlights died. Trey and I quickly adjusted our night-vision headsets, and pulled our Van Gurens from their scabbards. We had side arms holstered on our belts, but this was clearly a situation that called for Smart Rifles.

The Van Guren was a PGF (precision-guided firearm) which instantly linked to our night-vision headsets. The rifle would 'see' what we saw, and would adjust our aim accordingly (while also taking into account factors such as wind, relative elevation, and intervening obstacles). Best of all, the Van Guren had

serious

stopping power. I'd never actually fired mine, outside of the range, but Trey swore that he'd dropped a black bear at 300 yards with a single round.

We weren't worried about bears at this point. Bears don't build ladders. But the Outsiders could - and if we had Outsiders inside the perimeter, then we had the potential for trouble. I didn't know if they were here to steal, or to vandalize, but it was our job to stop them before they did any damage, or hurt anybody.

First, though, I used my headset's communication app.

- "Perimeter breach. North perimeter road. Point 16, halfway between K-Vats and warehouses. Assist immediate. Perimeter breach. Assist immediate."

Help would be on the way. For the moment, though, Trey and I were on our own.

The view through the night-vision goggles was incredible. It was like being inside a really cool video game. We'd had plenty of practice wearing them, and learning to identify nocturnal creatures such as raccoons, badgers, and the occasional fox. Owls were the worst: they'd suddenly move, and go swooping across our field of vision. They scared the shit out of me.

But we were looking for bigger targets tonight. Human-sized targets.

Trey was scanning to the left. I took the right. I suddenly realized that I was sweating, even though it was a fairly cool night. My mouth was dry. This was real.

Then I saw it.

Him, I guess. Way too big for a raccoon. But still slender. A child? A woman? I remembered my training.

- "Target." I said.

- "TARGET!" yelled Trey. A moment later, he fired. I heard the sharp crack of his Van Guren.

I made the mistake of looking his way. I couldn't acquire his target - and when I whirled back to the right, I couldn't re-acquire mine.

- "Trey! What did you shoot at?"

- "Nailed it. Hit the sonovabitch for sure."

- "Why did you shoot?" I repeated. Our standing instructions were quite clear: IADE. Identify, Apprehend, Defend, Eliminate. Trey had jumped from I to E.

To this day, I can't tell you why I didn't tell Trey that I'd acquired another target. He never asked: he'd probably been too intent on his own target to hear what I'd said.

We moved left, towards the downed Outsider. I was continually glancing right, looking for the slender figure I'd spotted. There was no sign of it. Them?

- "Here!" called Trey.

He had indeed hit his target. It was a male, clad in worn blue jeans and a tattered light jacket. Trey's shot had hit him in the left shoulder. There was nothing left of that shoulder, or of the side of his chest. The male's arm had been completely severed. What was left of that appendage lay a few yards away. Death by massive trauma would have been instantaneous.

- "Told ya! Nailed 'im!"

We didn't find a weapon. The corpse - the male - had been unarmed. I felt sick to my stomach. Was that why I didn't tell Trey that I'd acquired a second target?

Our backups arrived - half a dozen security guards. Then more. Within 20 minutes, pretty much every member of security was there. Some had been at the pub, and were a little the worse for wear.

Every single one of them patted Trey on the back, shook his hand, or clapped him on the shoulder. Was I the only one who remembered the standing instructions?

- "Hell of a shot, Trey."

- "Nicely done."

- "It was Mike who spotted the ladder first." said Trey, sharing the credit with me.

- "Way to go, Mike." said Captain Stanton, the Head of Security.

- "There might be another one." I said. "Another Outsider."

The Captain frowned. "What makes you say that?"

I pointed at the ladder. "I doubt that this one guy alone was able to get that contraption over the fence." Why was I doing it this way? I could've simply said that I'd seen the second Outsider.

- "They're probably on the outside, waiting for him to come back." said Malcolm Lang, my former partner.

- "We can't take chances with Outsiders." said the Captain. "Full sweep."

It was exciting for our colleagues, at first, to be searching the perimeter for another intruder. They were probably hoping to be like Trey, to be the next one to take down an Outsider.

Trey and I didn't see anything larger than a raccoon. Neither did anyone else. After four hours, the Captain called it off. Many of the other Guards shot me a dirty look, blaming me for spoiling their night off.

After all of the commotion had died down, Trey and I resumed our patrol. I looked really carefully for any sign of the second outsider, but didn't see anything.

For some reason, I was... relieved. How that Outsider got back over the fence, I had no idea, but I was glad that we didn't find him - or her.

***

FIVE MONTHS EARLIER

My new partner was on the prowl. Trey had his eye on Sheila, one of the beer-cart girls. He kept sending her fresh drinks before she could even finish the one in front of her.

- "I'll bet she's a firecracker in the sack." he said.

Sheila tried a bit too hard, in my opinion. Way too much makeup. She ended up looking like a cheap slut - not that I would ever have dreamed of telling her so. Nor did I say anything to my partner.

After only a few weeks on the job together, I was finding Trey hard to take. He was opinionated, self-absorbed, and crude.

"I'm gonna pin her to the bed an' hump the ass right off of her."

That was enough for me. "I need to take a leak." I got up and went to the toilets. On my way back, I stopped at the bar to get myself a beer.

The Sand Trap was packed; there were quite a few more people than usual. Alicia, the waitress, passed me with a tray full of drinks. She was being run off her feet.

I went to the end of the bar, where Tess was pouring a draft.

Tess ran the bar - and she ran it well. She was shrewd, capable, and probably the best looking woman on this side of the golf course. She was at least twice my age, but that didn't stop dozens of guys (myself included, on several occasions) from hitting on her. She handled us all the same way: she turned us down flat. No nonsense, no uncertainty. She put us in our place, and then asked if we wanted a drink.

- "Busy night." I remarked.

- "It is." she agreed. "Full moon, I suppose."

I didn't quite know what to make of that.

- "Umm... I'll have one of those drafts, if you don't mind." I said.

- "Can do. Listen, Mike: I don't know if you've noticed, but Alicia can barely keep up. How about I put this draft on the house, if you'll deliver this tray of drinks to that booth in the corner?"

- "Sounds good to me." Free beer? Check. A request from Tess? Double check.

She placed my draft on the tray, and pointed me on my way.

There were three young women in the corner booth. I knew two of them.

Anne was a blue-eyed blonde with wavy hair, who worked in the medical clinic. She had a nervous smile which made me a little uncomfortable, and a hairy mole to the left of her nose which was hard to ignore. Anne often got a slightly manic expression in her eyes, and her laugh was downright awful; it could set your teeth on edge. She also tended to laugh loudly at the wrong times.

Nicole was tiny. She was short, and skinny. She had bright green eyes, which were her best feature. Okay, her only good feature. Nicole had a huge forehead. She also didn't have much of a chin, which made the bottom half of her face seem completely out of proportion to the rest of her.

To make matters worse, Nicole's long, dark hair was scraggly and unkempt. To be honest, she looked a bit like a witch. That wasn't entirely fair, because she had a nice personality. She worked in the laundry, as far as I knew.

The third woman was new to me.

- "Your drinks, ladies." I said. "Who gets the draft?"

- "That's mine." said Nicole.

- "The gin and tonic?"

- "Here." said Anne, with a giggle.

- "So the red wine...?"

- "That would be mine." said the third woman.

- "Mike," said Nicole, "this is Claire. She's new. Claire, this is Mike. He's in Perimeter Security."

- "Oh. So you're the ones who -"

- "They keep us safe." said Anne. "They protect us from the Outsiders."

I shook my head. "I don't know about that. I've never actually seen an Outsider."

The third woman - Claire - looked at me. Then she nodded. Call me crazy... but I felt as if she understood what I meant.

Nicole spoke up. "Why don't you join us, Mike? We'd love to hear about your work."

I hesitated for just a moment. For some reason, I was still looking at Claire.

- "You don't have to talk about that, if you don't want to." said Claire. "We were just comparing our childhoods. Maybe you could tell us about yours."

On the surface, she was just another homely girl. Claire's hair was a mess, much like Nicole's. She had furry eyebrows like caterpillars, and big, dark circles under her eyes. I couldn't tell much about her body, at a glance, but she appeared to be a big girl.

She kept her lips pressed together, whenever she wasn't speaking. Bad teeth, probably. But I found that I just didn't care. There was something about her. Her eyes, maybe.

- "I missed the part about

your

childhood." I said, as I sat down next to Nicole, directly across from Claire.

- "Nothing special." she said. "I grew up in Hibbing, Minnesota. My Dad went one way, and my Mom went another. I ended up working near Dryden."

- "Dryden, Ontario?" I said.

- "You know it?"

- "I was born in Kenora." I said. "Ended up doing my apprenticeship on a golf course nearby."

- "Wow." said Anne. She'd been born here at White Spruce, and had never been anywhere else. Even the names of other places were exotic to her.

Nicole's parents were originally from Nevada. They'd left when it became largely uninhabitable. She'd lived in three more inhospitable places before accepting a position here.

- "How did

you

end up here? And in security?" Claire asked me.

- "I was originally trained as a groundskeeper. But... I just kept growing." I was a fairly big man, at 6' 2", 220 lbs.

- "I can see that." she said.

- "My overseer had a connection. There was an opening here, and he suggested that I apply for it." My story wasn't anything special. I was much more interested in how she'd come to be here.

- "Dominoes." said Nicole. "You knew Carol Dash."

Of course I did. Carol was my first girlfriend at White Spruce. She had dark curly hair, dark eyes, and spectacular tits.

I don't think that it's disrespectful to highlight the part of Carol's body that she herself was most proud of. We had a word for women like her: Carol was a show-er.

No, not a shower, like an upright bath. A person who liked to

show

off her best features.

Carol wasn't especially pretty. In fact, she was quite plain. But she had an exquisite body. I can attest to that firsthand, because she and I got naked together just about every day for a month or so. Then she found someone else. And shortly after that, Carol got what she wanted. She got noticed.

One of the club guests spotted her flaunting her best attributes. He was 72. She was 24. He was rich; she had exceptional tits, and a fine ass. It was a match made in... well, it was a match.

- "So, Carol was a waitress in the club restaurant." said Nicole. "Her departure left a vacancy. They promoted Lina. You remember Lina?"

- "Can't say that I do."

- "She worked in the laundry with us." said Nicole. "So when

she

moved, it created an opening. And Claire was brought in."

- "Welcome to White Spruce." I said. "I hope you'll like it here."

Claire grinned, without showing her teeth.

- "I hope so too."

***

- "I saw you with the little witch." said Trey, during our next shift. "Shit, Mike. She's a two-bagger if I ever saw one."

- "What?"

- "You put a bag over her head before you fuck her. And you put the second bag over your own head, in case hers breaks."

I took a deep breath. Nicole and I weren't particularly close, but nobody deserved to be described that way. "She's actually a really nice girl, Trey."

- "So what? You don't fuck their personality!" He laughed, impressed by his own wit.

As you might have guessed, Trey and I worked together, but we didn't talk all that much. He thought that I was close-mouthed and somewhat stupid. I thought that he was an asshole. Chances are we were both right.

I waited a whole two days before I asked Claire to go out with me. I was afraid to delay any longer, in case she met someone else. For some reason - which I couldn't quite figure out - I was actually a little nervous.

- "What did you have in mind?" she asked.

- "Well, we could go for lunch. Or, if you like, I could take you on a tour of the club. Your new workplace, and your new home."

- "What exactly would

that

entail?"

- "Chauffeur service, a knowledgeable tour guide, and some of the finest sights White Spruce has to offer."

She tilted her head and took a good look at me.

- "That actually sounds pretty good." she said. "How about if you arrange the tour, and I take care of the lunch?"

- "That would be awesome."

Sunday was her only day off. I would have to pull a shift that night, but it hardly mattered. I was trying to figure out why I was so interested in Claire: she was a big girl with furry eyebrows, dark circles under her eyes, on a bad hair year. And why was I so nervous?

I made sure that the cart was fully charged, and pulled up in front of her apartment in the Staff residence complex at Southend a little before 10:30. I was a tad early, but Claire came out immediately, as if she'd been watching for me. She had a big canvas bag under her arm.

- "A golf cart?" she said, with a big smile. "I was expecting a limousine."

- "The members and guests use golf carts." I said. "

This

is a security... vehicle." (I'd been about to say 'cart').

- "It

looks

like a golf cart." she said. Then she grinned. "I'm just teasing. There

are

no cars here, are there?"

- "No. Most everything runs on electricity. But if we get a chance later, I might be able to show you how fast this particular cart can go."

Claire stowed her canvas bag in the back, and sat down beside me.

- "Where do we start?" she asked.

- "With the familiar." I turned onto the South Perimeter Road. "I'm sure you've been this way before." This was the route she took, on the shuttle bus, every morning. "But I bet that you never get a chance to stop and admire the scenery."

The first half-mile of our tour was nothing exciting. Perimeter fence to the right, trees to the left. But then we came to the first gap in the woods. I parked the cart, and offered Claire my hand.

Fortunately, she was a sensible girl, who'd worn sensible shoes. We crossed the dry ditch, and climbed the short grassy slope. It was well worth the effort.

- "Wow." she said.

It

was

a lovely view. "This is the South Course. There are 2 separate 18-hole golf courses: North and South. Straight ahead, that's White Spruce Lake, and the Clubhouse. That's where the administrative offices are, along with the fancy bars and restaurants for the members. The 18th holes of both courses are quite close to it, so that people can sit on the deck, or the patios, and watch the golfers finish their rounds."

- "The lake is so pretty." said Claire. "Small, but..."

- "I know. Apparently there are 3 more lakes nearby, outside the perimeter, and we draw water from them. I mean, I haven't actually seen them myself, but..."

- "This is a very nice sight, Mike." she said. "We drive by every morning on the way to work, but I didn't even know this was here. Thank you for showing me."

- "That's what the tour is about."

- "Good start. What's next?"

I led her back to the cart, and followed the South Perimeter Road to the end, pointing out the main attractions.

- "That's the Guests' Lodge," I told her, pointing out the large structure nestled at the eastern end of the South course.

- "How many guests are there?" she asked. "And what's the difference between members and guests?"

- "Well, the members are in a similar building, on the edge of the North Course. There are less than 200 members. Some of them live here, year-round. They're called Residents. I think there are about 50 of them. That's not counting their wives, mistresses, or children. The members own their apartments, even if they only use them part of the year. Most of them are in their 60s or 70s. Most are married, too. There are quite a few white-haired men and white-haired ladies around."

- "But there are the trophy wives, too, right?" said Claire. "Nicole told me about them."

- "True. Just because they don't have white hair doesn't mean they aren't members. Or guests. The guests usually come in for a week or two, but some stay for a month or more. They're usually a bit younger."

- "More trophy wives? More mistresses?"

- "Umm... yeah. I guess. I mean... I'm just Perimeter Security. I don't really rub elbows with the members."

- "How much does a Membership cost?" she asked.

I'd never even thought about it. More money than I would ever see in ten lifetimes, probably.

- "I have no idea. I could possibly find out, if you really want to know."