Being a record of certain phenomena found in the environs of the Lost Quarter.

Sibling Rivalry

In those days, neighbours turned on neighbours, friends betrayed friends, and families ate themselves, everyone accusing everyone else of collaboration across the conflict lines. Borders have always been tricky in the Quarter and never more so than during that time when the territory and who claimed control of it changed seemingly weekly. First, it was the republicans, backed by the imperials, versus the federalists, but other factions soon emerged claiming sovereignty over various parts of the Quarter. 

A family was dividing on one farm in the heart of the Quarter in the months before all this began, just another group of people consumed by their own problems, unaware of how circumstances would shift the very land beneath their feet. A brother and sister deciding to split the operation and each go their own way. It seemed simple enough and likely would have resolved relatively amicably if circumstances had allowed. They shared a yard, which was now divided. Gas and electricity came in on the brother’s property, but the well and most of the grain bins were on what was now the sister’s land.  

The declaration of an independent republic happened twenty kilometres from the farm site and the first fighting, a police raid of a farm that turned bloody, was even closer. Everyone had an opinion on those events and lines were drawn and quickly hardened as paramilitaries from the south flooded the area promising to support all those who were fighting against repression. They established control in the area over the winter and through the following summer, federalists focusing their efforts on key roads and population centres further west, deciding, wrongly it turned out, that if they could defeat the main forces the remnants in places like this would be easily dealt with.  

It was a terrifying year for many. The brother, though, saw an opportunity. He couldn’t abide relying on his sister’s good graces to guarantee access to water. They’d tried drilling a well on their section of the property but had come up dry several times. Though he had never been much interested in the independence debate, he was friends with several of the local leaders. He made sure to mention to one of them that his sister’s husband, who was not from the area, was a federalist sympathizer and that he had seen him driving around the countryside marking republican positions. 

Threats followed, culminating in the burning of their calving shed and a tractor, while the brother professed to having no knowledge, promising to speak to his friends. When the children were followed by armed men in town after school, the sister and her husband decided to flee. The brother had the provisional council recognize his right to use the land; the papers had already been drawn up. That fall he sold her cattle as his own and the following year seeded her land.  

He didn’t think much when he didn’t hear from them. Things hadn’t ended on the best of terms and the cell and internet services were getting patchier as companies couldn’t safely manage repairs. The truth was they had been stopped at a checkpoint on their way out of the Quarter. This one was run by a Christian militant group, loosely affiliated with the other factions in the area. They recognized the husband’s name and description from a bulletin being shared among the groups. He and the sister were shot and the children sent south of the line through the adoption network that was already up and running, ensuring children were placed in good Christian homes. 

It was two years before the federalists were able to make any gains in that region of the Quarter. An irregular force came to the farm. The brother was a known republican sympathizer and there were suspicions there might be a weapons cache on the land. He cooperated fully giving them the run of the land, sharing what he knew about republican positions further south. We did what we had to do to survive, he told them, but hopefully now your here things can go back to normal.  

The leader of the irregulars had a familiar face. The brother wondered if they’d met in the time before all this. I don’t think it will ever be normal again, the leader said. For one thing, I’ll never see my nieces or my brother again.  

The brother ran, but he didn’t get far. The irregulars did nothing to his wife and children. They weren’t monsters after all. They did torch the buildings, the tractors, everything. The well was filled in. The cattle they rounded up – they had an army to feed after all – and the crops they left to rot in the fields.