Chapter 3: The Militia Rises
The earth was dry and stubborn beneath Ethan’s shovel, each thrust sending small clouds of red dust into the air. He worked with mechanical precision, his arms straining as the blade struck rock and hardened soil. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the barren farmstead.
Beside him, a small, hastily dug grave lay open. A blanket-covered shape rested at its edge, its outline heartbreakingly familiar. Ethan’s jaw was clenched tight, his lips pressed into a thin line, but his eyes betrayed him, glistening with unshed tears.
“You didn’t deserve this,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
The dog had been his companion for years, a loyal presence through the solitude of farm life. The raid had come out of nowhere—shrieking cries and pounding feet in the dead of night. By the time Ethan reached the yard with his rifle, it was too late. His livestock was scattered, the barn door hanging askew, and there, in the middle of the chaos, lay his dog.
He dropped to his knees and placed the shovel aside. Gently, he lifted the bundle, lowering it into the grave. For a moment, he sat there, staring at the still form, his heart a knot of grief and fury.
“I should’ve done more,” he whispered. “Should’ve been ready.”
The quiet was oppressive, broken only by the faint rustle of wind across the fields.
Ethan stood, his hands trembling as he picked up the shovel again. With each scoop of dirt he threw into the grave, his resolve hardened. By the time the final handful of earth was packed down, his grief had given way to something darker—a smoldering determination.
He turned toward the horizon, where the distant silhouettes of trees and hills blurred into the fading light. Somewhere out there, the creatures that had done this were still roaming free, their tracks leading back into the wilderness.
“I’ll find them,” Ethan said aloud, his voice low but steady. “And I’ll make them pay.”
He walked back toward the farmhouse, his boots crunching on the gravel. Inside, the place was a wreck—chairs overturned, a shelf knocked to the ground, and broken glass glittering on the floor. He had spent the morning cleaning up, but the damage wasn’t just physical. The raid had left an indelible scar, a reminder of how vulnerable he was.
Ethan moved to the small gun rack by the door. He took down his hunting rifle, inspecting it with a practiced eye. It had been years since he’d used it for anything more than scaring off pests, but the weight of it felt reassuring in his hands.
His gaze drifted to the old photograph on the wall—a younger version of himself in a military uniform, flanked by his unit. They had been a tight-knit group once, brothers forged in the fires of combat. He had left that life behind, thinking he could find peace on the farm.
Now, peace seemed like a cruel joke.
Ethan picked up the phone and dialed a number he hadn’t called in years. It rang twice before a gruff voice answered.
“Ethan?”
“It’s me,” he said, his tone flat. “I need your help.”
There was a pause on the other end, heavy with unspoken understanding.
“Tell me what happened,” the voice said.
Ethan’s grip on the phone tightened. “Not over the line. I’ll explain when you get here. Bring whoever you can. And weapons—plenty of them.”
Another pause, then a low sigh. “You’re serious.”
“Dead serious.”
The call ended, and Ethan set the phone down with a resolute motion. He moved through the house, gathering supplies and taking stock of what little he had left.
As night fell, he stood on the porch, staring out into the darkness. The land that had once been his refuge now felt like a battleground waiting to erupt. The kangaroos had started this fight, but Ethan was determined to finish it.
“They’ll learn,” he muttered, his voice carrying into the stillness. “No one messes with my home and gets away with it.”
Somewhere in the distance, a low rustle carried on the wind. Ethan’s grip tightened on the rifle in his hands. Whatever came next, he would be ready.
The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the sharp tang of gun oil in Ethan’s kitchen. Around the sturdy wooden table, a group of grim-faced men and women sat, their hands curled around steaming mugs or resting uneasily on the table’s surface.
Ethan stood at the head of the table, his rifle propped against the wall behind him. The faces were familiar—neighbors, local farmers, a mechanic who ran the repair shop in town. These were people he had shared barbecues with, exchanged small talk with at the general store. Now they looked at him with a mixture of fear and determination.
“You’ve all heard what happened,” Ethan began, his voice steady but hard-edged. “It wasn’t just my place. There’ve been other raids—Liv’s sheep down by the creek, Marco’s horses last month. This isn’t random. They’re getting bolder.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the group. Liv, an older woman with calloused hands, leaned forward, her brow furrowed. “My fences didn’t stand a chance,” she said. “They broke through like it was nothing. Took three of my best ewes.”
“It’s not just livestock anymore,” Ethan said, his jaw tightening. “They’re coming for more. Last night, I lost my dog.”
The room fell silent, the weight of his words settling over them like a heavy cloud.
Marco, a wiry man with a weathered face, broke the silence. “You’re saying we’re next? Our families?”
“I’m saying we can’t wait around to find out,” Ethan replied. “The police aren’t going to help us. They’re stretched thin, and even if they weren’t, they don’t believe half of what we’re telling them. It’s up to us to defend our land, our homes.”
“And how exactly do we do that?” asked Julia, the mechanic. Her arms were crossed, her expression skeptical but curious.
Ethan leaned forward, his palms flat against the table. “We form a militia. We organize. We train. We make sure we’re ready the next time they come.”
A chorus of voices rose, some in agreement, others hesitant. Marco scratched at his chin, his expression thoughtful. “A militia sounds like a good idea, but what are we talking here? Guns? Patrols?”
“All of it,” Ethan said. “We know this land better than they do. If we coordinate, if we’re armed and prepared, we can stop them.”
Liv nodded slowly. “It’s not like we have much choice. But where do we get the weapons? I’ve got a shotgun, but that’s not enough for this kind of thing.”
Ethan’s gaze hardened. “I’ve got some old contacts. People I served with. They can get us what we need.”
Julia raised an eyebrow. “You’re really serious about this.”
“I am,” Ethan said. “If we don’t act now, we’ll be sitting ducks when they come back. You all saw the news last week—those hikers they found dead near the gorge? That wasn’t an accident.”
The room fell silent again. The hikers’ deaths had been the subject of wild speculation in town, the kind of tragedy that felt too close for comfort.
“So, what’s the plan?” Marco asked finally.
Ethan straightened, his voice firm. “First, we gather what we have—guns, supplies, anything that can be useful. Then we train. We need to be ready for whatever they throw at us. And we don’t stop until we know our homes are safe.”
The group exchanged uneasy glances, but one by one, they nodded.
“I’m in,” Liv said, her voice steady.
“Me too,” Marco added.
Julia hesitated, then sighed. “I’ll help. Someone’s got to keep you all from blowing yourselves up.”
Ethan allowed himself a brief smile, the tension in the room easing slightly. “Good. We’ll meet here tomorrow evening. Bring what you can. And spread the word—we’ll need all the help we can get.”
As the group began to disperse, Ethan leaned against the counter, watching them file out into the fading daylight. For the first time since the raid, he felt a flicker of hope. They weren’t soldiers, but they were determined. And determination, he knew, could go a long way.
When the last of them had gone, Ethan turned to the rifle propped against the wall. He picked it up, running his fingers over the worn stock. The land outside was quiet now, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
“Let’s see how they like it when we fight back,” he muttered to himself, his grip tightening on the weapon.
Tomorrow, the real work would begin.
The ambush was set just before dawn, the horizon a faint line of purple as Ethan crouched behind the thick undergrowth. The air was cold, and the silence felt alive, broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the soft click of a weapon being checked.
Ethan glanced to his left, where Marco lay flat against the ground, his shotgun cradled in his arms. Beyond him, Julia adjusted her rifle with steady hands. Further down the line, Liv and the others waited in tense anticipation.
The tracks they’d followed had led here—to a narrow game trail winding between rocky outcroppings. It was the perfect bottleneck, and Ethan had chosen it deliberately. If the kangaroos came this way, they’d have no room to maneuver, no cover to hide behind.
“Remember,” Ethan whispered, his voice barely audible. “Wait until they’re in the kill zone. Don’t fire early.”
The others nodded, their faces pale but determined. Ethan tightened his grip on his rifle, his heart pounding.
Minutes passed like hours, the tension stretching taut as a wire. Then, faintly at first, came the sound of movement—soft thuds against the ground, rhythmic and deliberate.
Ethan’s breath hitched as the first kangaroo came into view, its hulking form silhouetted against the dim light. Its head swiveled, large ears twitching as it scanned the trail ahead. Two more followed close behind, their movements cautious but unhurried.
He counted six in total, their muscular frames and scarred hides unmistakable. These weren’t Koa’s peaceful followers—these were Rook’s warriors, their tails weighted with sharp rocks and their claws glinting in the faint light.
Ethan waited until the entire group was in the center of the trail, his finger hovering over the trigger. When the last kangaroo passed the marker he’d placed—a broken branch jutting from the ground—he gave the signal.
“Now!”
The valley erupted in a cacophony of sound. Gunfire shattered the morning stillness, flashes of light cutting through the gloom. The kangaroos froze for a heartbeat, their eyes wide with shock, before chaos broke loose.
The first kangaroo went down instantly, a spray of red arcing through the air as Marco’s shotgun roared. Another lunged toward the brush, its powerful legs propelling it forward—but Julia’s shot hit it mid-stride, and it collapsed with a guttural cry.
Ethan fired at the largest of the group, his rifle’s recoil slamming into his shoulder. The bullet struck true, but the kangaroo didn’t go down immediately. It let out a deep, guttural growl, its dark eyes locking onto Ethan before it charged.
Ethan’s breath caught as the creature closed the distance, its claws raised to strike. He fired again, the shot punching through its chest, and it crumpled to the ground just feet away.
The remaining kangaroos scattered, their movements frantic as they searched for cover that didn’t exist. Liv fired at one as it bounded toward the rocks, the shot grazing its flank. It let out a sharp yelp but kept going, disappearing into the underbrush.
Within moments, the ambush was over. The trail was littered with still forms, the metallic scent of blood heavy in the air.
Ethan rose slowly, his rifle still raised as he scanned the area. The others emerged from their positions, their faces pale and drawn. Marco was the first to speak, his voice shaky.
“Did we get them all?”
“No,” Ethan said, his eyes narrowing at the faint sound of retreating footsteps. “One got away.”
Julia stepped forward, her rifle slung over her shoulder. “They’ll bring others,” she said grimly. “You know that, right? They won’t let this go.”
Ethan nodded, his jaw tightening. “I know. But we had to send a message.”
Liv knelt beside one of the fallen kangaroos, her expression conflicted. “They didn’t have guns,” she said softly. “It wasn’t much of a fight.”
Ethan turned to her, his voice hard. “It wasn’t supposed to be. They came here to raid us, to kill and take what they wanted. We stopped them. That’s all that matters.”
Liv didn’t reply, her gaze lingering on the lifeless form at her feet.
Ethan looked away, his focus already shifting to what came next. The militia had proven itself today, but this was only the beginning. The kangaroos would retaliate—he was certain of that. And when they did, they’d be ready.
“Let’s move,” Ethan said, his voice cutting through the stillness. “We need to get back to the farm before they regroup.”
The others nodded, their movements subdued as they gathered their weapons and supplies. As they disappeared into the brush, the sun began to rise, casting long shadows over the trail.
Ethan glanced back at the scene one last time—the broken bodies, the churned earth—and felt a flicker of something he couldn’t quite name. Satisfaction? Regret?
Whatever it was, he buried it quickly. The war had begun, and there was no turning back now.
The low hum of a television filled the small farmhouse living room. Ethan sat in his worn armchair, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the screen. The footage playing was grainy, likely recorded from a drone or a distant phone camera, but the images were unmistakable.
The ambush site.
Bodies of kangaroos lay scattered across the trail, their positions frozen in death. The camera panned over bloodied tracks and the shattered remains of the brief, violent struggle. A voiceover cut through the grim silence, its tone serious and urgent.
“Disturbing images coming out of the Outback this morning, where a group of rogue kangaroos appears to have been neutralized by what local sources are calling a civilian militia. The attack follows weeks of escalating tensions between humans and the genetically altered kangaroos, which many claim are becoming increasingly aggressive toward rural communities.”
Ethan clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as the broadcast continued.
“This is the third reported confrontation between humans and kangaroos in the past month. And while officials have yet to confirm the identities of those involved in the ambush, eyewitness accounts suggest that local farmers have begun arming themselves in response to recent attacks on livestock and property.”
The screen cut to a blurry shot of Ethan’s farm, a distant image of the main house surrounded by open fields. His truck was visible in the driveway, unmistakable to anyone who knew him.
“They’re already sniffing around,” Julia muttered from her spot near the window. She was cleaning her rifle, her movements sharp and methodical. “Won’t be long before someone knocks on your door.”
Ethan didn’t respond, his focus still on the screen.
The footage shifted again, this time to a polished studio where two commentators sat across from one another, their expressions solemn.
“This is a dangerous escalation,” one said, a middle-aged man in a crisp suit. “We’re seeing civilians take matters into their own hands, and that’s a recipe for disaster. The authorities need to get control of this situation before it spirals even further.”
The other commentator, a woman with sharp features, leaned forward. “And what are these people supposed to do in the meantime? Just sit back and let their homes be raided? The government has failed to protect them. These farmers are defending themselves because no one else will.”
Ethan muted the television, the arguments continuing silently in the background. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples as the tension of the day settled into his bones.
“They’re making us out to be heroes,” Marco said from the doorway, his voice laced with a mix of pride and unease. “Might not be such a bad thing. Could rally more people to our side.”
“Or paint a target on us,” Julia said without looking up. “You think Rook’s group doesn’t have someone watching the news? They’ll know exactly where to find us now.”
“She’s right,” Liv added from her seat at the kitchen table. “We’re exposed, Ethan. If they come for us, we won’t have the element of surprise this time.”
Ethan stood, pacing the length of the room. “They were going to come for us no matter what,” he said. “This just means we need to be ready. If more people want to join us because of this, we’ll take them. But we can’t afford to sit around waiting for them to hit us first.”
Julia set her rifle aside, her expression skeptical. “And what about the authorities? You really think they’re going to sit back while we keep killing these things? They’ll call us vigilantes. Maybe worse.”
Ethan stopped, his gaze hard. “Let them,” he said. “If the government wanted to stop this, they’d have done it by now. We’re doing what has to be done.”
The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air.
Outside, the last light of day faded, casting the farm in shadows. The distant hum of insects was the only sound, a fragile calm that felt increasingly rare.
Ethan turned back to the television, unmuting it just in time to catch the final words of the segment.
“As the situation unfolds, one thing is clear: the divide between humans and the kangaroo factions is growing deeper by the day. The question now is how far this conflict will go—and who will pay the price.”
Ethan clicked the TV off, the screen going dark. He turned to the others, his face set in grim determination.
“It’s already gone too far,” he said. “But we’re not backing down.”
No one argued. The resolve in the room was as sharp and unyielding as the weapons they carried.
Somewhere beyond the darkness, Ethan knew the next battle was already taking shape.
The dim glow of a laptop screen illuminated Sarah’s face as she sat in the corner of her cramped motel room, her fingers flying across the keyboard. The words on the screen—civilian militia and rogue kangaroos—blurred as her tired eyes scanned the latest headlines. Each article confirmed what she already suspected: the fragile line between humans and the kangaroos was about to snap.
She clicked on a grainy video embedded in one of the reports, her stomach tightening as the footage played. The scene was all too familiar—scarred earth, bloodied tracks, and the unmistakable shapes of fallen kangaroos. A voiceover narrated the events with detached urgency, painting the militia as desperate heroes defending their land.
Sarah slammed the laptop shut, the tinny voice cutting off mid-sentence. Her hands trembled as she leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling.
“They don’t understand,” she muttered. “They don’t see what’s coming.”
The kangaroos weren’t just misunderstood animals, nor were they the monsters the media was beginning to portray them as. They were sentient, complex beings—capable of reason, emotion, and, yes, violence. She had seen both Koa and Rook’s factions up close, had felt the weight of their choices pressing against her own conscience.
And now humans were retaliating in kind, the gap between them widening into a chasm that seemed impossible to bridge.
Sarah opened her notebook, flipping to a page filled with hastily scrawled notes. The name Ethan was underlined twice, surrounded by fragments of details she’d pieced together from the news and her own contacts.
A former soldier. A farmer. And now, the de facto leader of the militia.
Reaching out to him was a risk—an enormous one. But if she didn’t, the violence would escalate until there was nothing left to salvage.
She grabbed her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found a number she hadn’t used in months. With a deep breath, she dialed.
The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered. “Sarah? I didn’t expect to hear from you.”
“Hi, Matt,” she said, forcing calm into her voice. “I need a favor.”
There was a pause on the other end. “What kind of favor?”
“I need to find someone,” she said. “A man named Ethan. He’s leading the militia near Redwater Gorge.”
Another pause, this one longer. “Sarah, what are you getting yourself into?”
“Just tell me if you can help,” she said, her tone firmer now.
Matt sighed. “I can ask around. But you know this isn’t safe, right? If this guy’s leading a militia, he’s not going to roll out the welcome mat for someone like you.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Sarah said. “If I don’t talk to him, more people are going to die. And it won’t just be humans.”
Matt hesitated but finally relented. “Give me a few hours. I’ll see what I can do.”
The call ended, leaving Sarah alone with the silence and the weight of what she was about to attempt.
It was late afternoon when Matt called back with an address—Ethan’s farm. Sarah wasted no time, packing her things and heading out into the fading daylight.
The drive was long and quiet, the vastness of the Outback stretching out around her. By the time she arrived, the sun was sinking low on the horizon, casting the farm in deep orange hues.
She parked a short distance away, her heart pounding as she stepped out of the car. The farm was quiet, but there was no mistaking the signs of recent activity—tire tracks in the dirt, the faint smell of gunpowder lingering in the air.
Sarah walked cautiously toward the house, her hands raised slightly to show she wasn’t a threat. The creak of the porch steps under her feet sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness.
Before she could knock, the door swung open, and Ethan stood there, his rifle slung over one shoulder. His sharp eyes took her in with a single, assessing glance.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice clipped.
“My name is Sarah,” she said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
Ethan’s expression didn’t soften. “You’ve got one minute to explain why you’re here, and it better be good.”
Sarah took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “I know about the kangaroos. I know what they’re capable of. And I know this war you’re starting won’t end the way you think it will.”
His grip on the rifle tightened. “War? This isn’t a war. It’s survival. They came for us first.”
“They didn’t all come for you,” Sarah said. “There’s more going on here than you realize. You’re fighting one faction, but there’s another trying to find peace.”
Ethan let out a harsh laugh. “Peace? Tell that to my dog. Tell that to the farmers who’ve lost everything.”
“I’m not here to excuse what’s happened,” Sarah said. “I’m here to stop more of it from happening. If you’ll let me.”
Ethan stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he stepped aside, motioning for her to enter.
“You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” he said. “But if you’re lying to me, you won’t make it off this farm.”
Sarah nodded, stepping inside. “Fair enough. Now let me tell you what you don’t know.”