Abolition (Insurrection Book 3)

by DJ Cooper

  The growling of his stomach pulled his thoughts away from the mystery and he pushed himself off of the boulder. Sitting here was not going to find his dinner or water to refill his bottle. With a weary sigh, he folded the map back up and shoved it in his satchel.

  He walked several more miles before he finally found a little stream of water. It looked brackish and smelled of sulfur. Grimacing, he decided to pass it by. Bad water would surely make him sick, no matter how much his parched throat screamed for it.

  He stumbled forward but quickly grew tired and found a lonely tree and sat beneath it. Desperation clawed at his throat. He knew that it wouldn’t take long for him to die with no water. The sun glared down at him as if in ridicule for his foolhardy journey. He gazed at the sky, a pure blue, through the leaves of the tree. It was a pristine, crystal clear day, he saw not a cloud in the sky.

  Like it was time for an afternoon siesta, he leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and let out a deep breath, doing his best to fight off the heaviness of fatigue.

  He’d rest a bit, perhaps travel after sundown. Within a few minutes, he was asleep.

  Old Man

  Old Man moved silently in his approach. Pebbles beneath his feet dislodged and scattered away from him, making small noises. There was no movement from the boy and he looked at him dozing against the tree and shook his head.

  The kid knew absolutely nothing about surviving. In disgust, he placed a bladder of water on the ground beside him, along with two fat birds already plucked and cleaned. In the several days he’d been following him the boy was oblivious to his surroundings and to the fact that he was being followed. He completely missed the pool of clear water, walked right by the damn thing not a hundred yards to his left. Then he’d missed the opportunity to gather eggs from a nest right above his head. Old Man snickered silently and shook his head, and thought of what the boy’s response would be if he laid the blade of his knife across his throat for him to wake up to. He would never make it if he didn’t get this figured out. He backed silently away and walked off.

  The old man stopped near a big boulder, one he knew the boy would run across. With his knife, he gouged a symbol onto the face of the stone. Peering over his shoulder, he gazed toward the distant mountains. A smile formed on his lips. They were ready. All of them. And the time was drawing near. The boy was being watched, carefully. Helped in more ways than he would ever know. Now, just to make sure he arrived at his destination. Once that door was opened, it would never again be able to close.

  Aeryn

  Aeryn woke and it took a moment for him to focus on where he was. His face was wet with tears, a sob constricted his throat. Mauri. It had been so real, so achingly real and his heart exploded with longing. A wave of homesickness washed over him like a wave of sadness. He missed her, he missed his boy, and he missed Rysa. Life there had been hard, as it was in every village controlled by the elites, but the people there were his friends. The support of friends and family even in bad conditions had managed to make it bearable. A groan filled his heart as he bent his face into his hands and sobbed. Doubt clouded his mind.

  Everything since the day he stole the bread had been one mishap after another. Helping the boy in the prison, escaping and ending up leaving Rysa, and finding the map and the book; he could make no sense of it. How his life had changed... so drastically... in such a short time. He felt lost; half-starved, dying of thirst in the middle of nowhere. He wanted to be home with his wife and his child. The sorrow and loneliness were almost more than he could bear.

  Snot ran from his nose and he swiped at it with the back of his hand before pushing himself to his feet. Overwhelmed and feeling sorry for himself, he bent to pick up his satchel. He almost missed the two butchered birds and the water bladder that rested on the ground beside it. His eyes widened when he spotted them and reached out, pulling the items toward him.

  “Thank you,” he moaned, realizing the gift that had been left for him.

  He stood, his eyes searching the expanse of the sparse landscape for any signs of his invisible benefactor. Nothing…. Nothing but scrub brush and boulders stretched out under the harsh sun.

  Grateful for the bounty he turned back to the items. Picking up the bladder he untied the knot, drew it to his mouth, and took a deep swallow. The water was as cool and sweet as a crystal clear mountain stream. The bladder hung at his side, he looked up and sighed in relief as his parched and painful throat eased. Fragments of his dream lingered on his mind, haunting him while he gathered tinder to start a fire.

  Rays from the sun offered him a moment to decide. And although he was planning to continue for at least a few more miles before he closed out the day, his hunger dictated his actions. He would stay and eat first.

  The aroma of the birds cooking nearly drove him insane, the hunger gripping his mind consumed him. Drool perched on the edge of his lip while he waited and watched for them to finish cooking. Removing the spit from the coals, he plucked off a piece and blew on it before popping the chunk into his mouth.

  Like the satisfying moment with the water, he sat, rolling his eyes. The taste of the food and the cool moist water refreshed him. Although it quelled the hunger pains, his stomach still didn’t feel full. He was tempted to eat the second bird. So tempted that his hands actually shook as he reached for it. Logic told him to save it. It was another meal and should be eaten later.

  His hand held up to the horizon, he estimated the time remaining in the day and prepared to move on before stopping for the night. Careful to clear up his camp, he tossed sand over the fire, stood, and packed away the second cooked bird along with the water bladder. The sun hung a little lower on the horizon and he cast his eyes ahead. He could get several hours of travel in before nightfall.

  A deep breath filled his chest and he set out with an energized body and renewed soul. A tingly feeling of being watched followed him. Several times he couldn’t help himself when the feeling overwhelmed him and he stopped abruptly, glancing over his shoulder. He appreciated the food, he appreciated the water, but damn it he wanted to know who was following him… helping him.

  It would be great to thank them. Good to have someone to talk to. And as the shadows deepened around him, Aeryn blended into the landscape making his way further and further into the badlands.

  Ahead the mountain range glowed as the sun slowly sank behind it. Sighing, he tucked his head low and concentrated on his footsteps. Loneliness was a deep ache in his heart.

  Chapter Twelve

  Army

  First Rank Vincent moved through the forest. Johan, a few steps ahead of him tracked a set of deer prints. Vincent eyed the other man’s back, the way his shoulders rolled as he walked, like an ignorant, cocky little bastard. Hatred burned in Vincent’s heart as he let Johan walk deeper and deeper into the woods. Suddenly, he saw Johan throw up a hand gesturing for him to stop. Ahead in the brush stood a young four-point buck, nose to the ground, as it nibbled on the fodder.

  Vincent watched with a wicked gaze as Johan raised his rifle. And at that same time, Vincent brought his own rifle to his shoulder, his heart pounding, his palms sweaty. Silently, he aimed the sights for a sweet spot right between Johan’s shoulder blades. The sound of two shots echoed in the forest. One bullet taking down the deer, the other bullet taking down the man. First Rank Vincent smiled coldly.

  “I guess you won’t be challenging me anymore. Will you, asshole?” He muttered as he strode by Johan’s body lying prone on the ground. Blood pooled in a small spot between his shoulders, his shirt and jacket staining like a blossoming flower. Vincent glanced down at him, grimaced, then moved toward the deer.

  The blade from his knife glistened with the crimson liquid when he slit the belly of the animal, pulling out its entrails and tossing them aside for the animals.

  He hadn’t thought about the weight of the buck, and he grunted when he stood and dragged it back toward camp.

  The carcass bumped over Johan’s body. “Whoops! Sorry, d
ude,” he chuckled. Then seeing the humor in the situation he burst into a fit of maniacal laughter.

  Although he knew the men would notice Johan’s absence, none would dare question him. He would go back to camp, inquire about his whereabouts, and pretend to be shocked and concerned when he wasn’t there. Whistling, his thoughts shifted to the deer steaks he’d be eating in a few short hours.

  Tiredly, he stumbled back into camp and shouted to his men. “Hey! One of you boy’s come and help me with this!” he called out.

  Several men jumped up and hurried over, each grabbing a leg of the deer. Shouts of joy and claps on the back were afforded Vincent as he passed by. Food, fresh food, was sure a morale boost for the men.

  He knelt, crouching by the fire, satisfied and warming his hands. Something felt off, Vincent turned to the group and locked eyes with one of the men.

  “Did Johan make it back?” he asked, his face an expression of concern.

  The man shook his head. “No First Rank, sir, we haven’t seen him yet.”

  Vincent nodded, unaffected, “Well, he’s probably chasing another deer. He’ll show up soon enough,” he replied.

  The other soldier nodded. “Yes, sir,” he muttered.

  When Vincent turned back toward the fire, the man narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Something about the First Rank’s attitude bothered him. But he knew it wasn’t his place to question.

  The deer steaks sizzled over the fire and a mouthwatering aroma drifted in the air. Vincent pulled his map from his backpack’s pocket and studied it as he waited for the cook to finish preparing the dinner. His stomach growled noisily. He was hungry.

  The escapees were only a few miles ahead and his mind churned with capture tactics. The tracks they left indicated there were two of them. He surmised that it was Kael but it could also be his sister. It was hard to tell. He shook his head in frustration. He thought about the village they’d attacked. He and his men had gotten their asses handed to them all because of that little bastard Kael. The fact that he was sitting out here in the woods, getting chewed alive by mosquitoes, ass in the dirt because of that boy, made his blood boil with anger. He intended to return to the city dragging that boy bound and gagged behind him. His back straightened with the thought. He would be the hero, and he would finally show Thindrel just what he was made of. A small smile crossed his face, he folded the map and tucked it back into his pack. In the morning, before first light, he hoped to have his hands on Kael or his sister. Then the fun would begin. Satisfied, he sat back, leaning against the log near the fire, he waited patiently for his dinner while he sipped on a cup of strong coffee.

  Ecker

  Ecker jumped at the sound of gunshots in the distance. Nervous tension ran through him like an electrical pulse and fear tightened his chest. Terror gripped his mind when he thought of the internment camps and the guards. Instinctively, he kicked dirt over his fire, stood, and peered off through the trees. Dusk cast shadows deep into the woods that could trick a man’s mind. They danced in the breeze, creating the appearance of movement. Shadows squirmed and jumped around him.

  A hesitant sigh filled the air when he gathered up his meager belongings and stuffed them into his satchel. “No sense in worrying about something I can’t see,” he scolded himself.

  He couldn’t just sit here and wait for them, he had to find out where those shots came from. If other people were wandering around, whether it be friend or foe, he needed to know about it. His mind followed every rabbit hole, he thought back and wondered if the men he’d killed earlier were part of a bigger group. If so, then Zyla and Creed could be in danger.

  An exasperated groan escaped him as he threw the satchel over his shoulder. He stepped into the shadows to search for answers. His steps took him uneasily in the direction of the gunshots.

  Dusk turned to darkness, his mind hoping he was not right while he walked through the woods. He moved silently, ducking branches and avoiding sticks. He picked up the oaken scent of wood smoke from a distant fire and nervously fingered the handmade knife in his pocket. He didn’t intend to confront anyone if he should cross paths with them, but it felt good to have a weapon just in case. He followed the scent of smoke until he could hear voices in the distance. Careful steps ensured he would not be seen while he crept up on the camp.

  More than a dozen men lounged, warming themselves in front of a low burning fire. Muffled sounds of laughter and conversation echoed into the night as he crouched low behind a bush, barely daring to breathe. The odor of cooking meat tantalized his hunger and he swallowed hard. Darkness had set in, obscuring the details of the large group. They wore uniforms, he could see that they were Honor Guard uniforms but with the low light, he just couldn’t be sure from where. So far out into the woods… this could not be a good sign.

  Settling in low he strained and listened to the conversation. His mouth watered at the smell of the meat as it sizzled over the open fire. He swore under his breath as if to quiet it when his stomach growled loudly.

  “So from the looks of the tracks, we’re not far behind. I say we leave before light, surprise them,” a voice said, drifting through the darkness.

  “Yes, but what about Johan? He’s not back yet,” another voice replied.

  “He’ll find us. I told him not to go off on his own,” the first voice responded.

  “Do you think it’s Kael?” yet another voice asked.

  “Either way. Kael or his sister, it doesn’t matter, they’ll be happy with whichever we bring back,” the first voice muttered.

  Having heard enough, Ecker crept away silently, crawling from under the bush and far into the woods before he dared stand. His heart slammed in his chest as his mind spun with frantic fear. He had to warn Zyla! He had to reach them before those soldiers did. He couldn’t foresee why they would want her, or what she could have possibly done to warrant a whole unit of soldiers to hunt her down.

  “This is bad,” he mumbled to himself. “Very bad.”

  Darkness made the hike back toward where Zyla and Creed were camped slow and painful. The moon, obscured by the clouds, made the night black. Low hanging branches slapped at his face and arms, rocks and roots tripped him. Several times he had to stop to catch his breath and wipe the sweat that was beaded on his face. He’d gone as fast as he could in the dark and came within a few hundred yards of where he knew Zyla was camped. He stopped to check his surroundings when something struck him from behind. Stars danced before his eyes and he hit the ground and his arm was yanked painfully behind him.

  “I told you, I’d kill you the next time we met,” Creed crooned into his ear.

  Ecker grunted in pain as more force was brought into twisting his arm. “Creed wait, you’re in danger,” he gasped, his face pushed into the leaves and sticks of the forest floor. He didn’t struggle.

  “How long have you been following us?” Creed hissed pressing his knee into Ecker’s back.

  Ecker moaned.

  Zyla’s voice screeched, “Creed, get off of him now,” she growled.

  Weight and pain lifted from him when Zyla angrily slammed her body into Creed’s.

  “What the hell are you doing, Zyla?” Creed yelled, rolling up on his feet and glaring at her.

  Ecker sat up and rubbed his shoulder and watched the banter between them.

  “Leave him alone! He saved your damn life and mine! We don’t treat people this way!” she shouted.

  Creed took a step back and glared at Ecker. “What’s she talking about?” he hissed.

  Ecker shook his head. Evidently, she hadn’t told him about how he’d stepped in on the attack by the other men. “Look man, that’s something you and her need to talk about, but not right now,” he practically screamed at him. Right now we need to get our asses outta here,” Ecker said as he stood and looked Creed in the eyes.

  Before Creed could ask, Ecker turned to Zyla. “There are about a dozen or more soldiers about five miles behind you and coming in fast, they are looking for you or som
e guy named Kael,” he said. His words came out clipped and hurried.

  Her eyes widened in fear, “Oh my God, Creed?” she said and turned toward him.

  Creed’s face hardened and his lips pressed tight in anger. “Shit, pack it up now!” he shouted. Looking at Ecker he nodded. “We’ll talk more later. We gotta get her outta here,” he said.

  Ecker’s head bobbing up and down while he helped them gather their belongings. The three of them quickly packed up camp and Creed kicked dirt over the glowing embers of the fire pit. Ecker hurried into the woods and Creed called out after him, “Coward!”

  A few moments later he returned with an armload of small sticks and leaves. After a glance at Creed, he glared and began to scatter them about the camp. “I doubt it will fool them, but if we can keep them from finding the camp then perhaps they won’t have anything to guide them,” he said while continuing to try and hide their presence.

  Creed turned and glanced at Zyla. Her expression was stricken with fear. Part of him wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. Tell her everything would be okay. He fought off the nagging doubt that sat in the pit of his stomach like a rock, he had no way to know if it really would.

  Turning to Ecker, he motioned him closer. “You take her and run west. I’m going to try and slow the soldiers down,” he muttered.

  Ecker’s head dipped, “I will.”

  The cold glare of Zyla’s angry gaze was felt more than seen. “I don’t think so, Creed!” she hissed between clenched teeth. “I am not running without you!” she snapped.

  A stubborn glint crossed her face and lit in her eyes as she placed her hands on her small hips. She looked fierce!

  “You will! Damn it!” Creed spat. “I can’t worry about you and do what I need to do at the same time!” he replied just as fiercely, standing his ground against Zyla.