by James Hunt
“Nathan, Jim.” Iris pointed, and the two stepped forward. “You start assigning teams. Then start dividing up the ammunition and explosives we have. Make sure everyone has what they need. Now’s not the time to ration.”
“Got it. All right, guys.” Nathan clapped his hands together, raising his voice, and started breaking everyone into teams.
Iris pulled Wren aside, and she and Ben cornered her out of earshot of everyone else. “I don’t want you going in alone. You’ll have your own team, a few people to watch your back.”
Wren shook her head. “No, I’ll be able to move quieter by myself, and it’ll be easier to stay hidden if I need to.” And I won’t have anyone else’s blood on my hands.
“It’s not a good idea, Wren,” Ben said. “At least head in with the explosives team, and then you can break off while they rig the fuel tank.”
In the end, Wren reluctantly agreed, then left Iris and Ben to hammer out the details with the rest of their people. Their people. Not my people. She found her feet guiding her back to the lawyer’s office where they’d let Reuben rest. When it was all said and done, the doctor said the hermit had four broken ribs, a collapsed lung, a broken cheekbone, and more lacerations than he had fingers and toes.
Wren stepped in the room quietly as a ghost, gliding across the floor. The doctor didn’t even see her until she was standing right next to Reuben’s cot. “How is he?” She gently grabbed his thumb, which was large enough for her to wrap her entire hand around.
“If he makes it through the night, he should be okay, but that’s his first big test.” The way the doctor spoke was as if Reuben and she were lovers. The doctor excused himself, and Wren chuckled at the thought but wondered if he’d felt the same way.
Reuben had been beaten to within an inch of his life, all to keep her from being raped. “Why did you do that?” Her face reddened with anger as Reuben remained silent. She let go of his hand. “I never asked you to do that. It was stupid.” A tear broke through the pain, and she leaned closer to his face, the thick musk of his beard piercing her nostrils. “You should have stayed at your cabin. You should have left me in the woods.” More tears cascaded down her swollen cheeks. Was this what drove Doug to cheat? Had she always knocked away every outstretched hand? “I’m sorry.” Reuben and Doug blurred together in the distress of her mind as the admission escaped her lips. “I didn’t want this to happen.” She hunched over, her back curved like the handle of a cane, and wept.
All of the pain, fear, apprehension, and unknowns that had plagued her consciousness flooded from her soul, escaping through the ducts of her eyes. She let herself feel the weakness, let it soak her bones until they dissolved. The walls within crumbled with every tremble of her body. She was exposed, naked and vulnerable. She stayed in the room with Reuben until her sorrow had run its course, and then she left.
Outside, Nathan waited for her. He gripped two rifles, one in each hand, and extended her the assault rifle. “Everyone’s set. We’re going to leave a few behind here to keep an eye on Reuben and make sure the town remains secure in case we need it later.”
The rifle sagged in her arms. It was heavier than she remembered, taking what remained of her strength just to keep the weapon upright. “We won’t.” The fatigue in her body betrayed the confidence in her voice as the rifle slipped from her grip and smacked to the ground. She knelt to retrieve it, and Nathan lowered with her.
“You know you don’t have to do this. You’ve been through enough, Wren. We can get your kids out.”
“No.” Wren raised the rifle and tucked it back under her arm. “They’re my children. It’s my job.”
Nate sighed and gave a reluctant nod. “Go and get something to eat before we take off. Ben’s handing out the rations now. We leave in twenty.”
“Okay.” It’d take them all night to make it back to the camp, and her muscles whined at the mere thought of the long trek. When she found Ben handing out the rations, she made it a point to grab an extra pack for the journey.
***
The small teams of three and four huddled closely in the dark, everyone as quiet as the trees around them. When people spoke, it was in hurried whispers, which were few and far between. It was an eerie sight, all of those bodies moving soundlessly through the forest. They moved like the undead toward the last beacon of life in the world, ready to consume it for themselves. Wren didn’t object to the silence. Even though she was surrounded by nearly two dozen others, she might as well have been walking through the forest alone. It was a needed solitude, time to prepare herself for what could happen. From the moment Iris showed up, Wren had been a nervous wreck, knowing that only Doug was there with the children, if he was even still alive. And if he was, he wasn’t in any shape to keep them safe. He could barely walk.
She slowly processed all of the atrocities that Ted and Edric could inflict on her children. She forced herself down every dark alleyway of her mind, overturning every stone, peeking through every crevice. She needed to see it. She needed to prepare herself. By the time they stopped a few hundred yards from the compound, she couldn’t stop herself from shaking.
“Hey.” Nathan placed his hand on her shoulder. “You all right?”
Wren nodded quickly. Sweat broke out on her forehead, and she wiped it off with her sleeve before it stung her eyes. She’d forgotten about the swelling in her cheeks and pressed too hard with her forearm. The pain swelled her adrenaline. “Where’s our point of entrance?”
“We’ll head east, circle around the front gate, and head sixty yards before we make the jump. John and I will head for the fuel depot and start digging. You find your kids and wait for the explosion, and then you head out the same way you came in. We’ll spread out the fighting between the north, south, and west corners.”
Wren closed her eyes and whispered the only prayer that mattered. Let my children live.
“Wren?” Nathan asked. “You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. We can—”
“I’m ready.” With her assault rifle and the extra magazine of ammunition, Wren followed Nathan and John through the trees. Every few yards, she glanced toward the wall, the proximity to her children enough to drive her mad.
After ten minutes Nathan held up his hand, freezing all three of them in place. Wren drew in a breath, every muscle hissing pain. She kept her good ear toward the fence, her eyes peeled, and slowly exhaled when Nathan motioned them forward.
The roots that penetrated from the earth were slick with the morning’s rain, and Wren slipped twice, catching herself with her right arm and cursing under her breath. Her feet dug into the moist dirt, flicking patches of soil behind her with each hurried step. The beating from the previous day had taken its toll, as she panted for breath by the time they reached the fence.
The section of the wall they’d chosen hadn’t been completed before Wren’s exile. It was weakly reinforced, and most of the wood had rotted away, but more importantly, it was short. She’d never added the height extension like the other sides, though it was something Edric knew as well.
Nathan walked slowly along the walls, keeping low, while John and Wren hung back, waiting for the signal that it was clear. Wren’s heart caught in her throat, each thick beat sending a shiver down her spine. Beyond the fence, her children were scared and alone. She dug her fingers into the rifle’s grip. The knuckles in her hands cracked. I’m coming.
John patted her on the shoulder, and the two bounded soundlessly over the wet earth to Nathan’s location. It was Wren who went over first, her belly sliding against the moldy bark. The skin between her fingers pinched in the crevices between poles. Her arms shook violently as she lifted her legs over the side, and she smacked her cheek on her way over the top. The pain numbed her limbs, and she slipped from the top, crashing into the dirt with a dull thud.
Wren clawed at the ground, the first few seconds of breathless gasps heightening the adrenaline-induced panic. The first breath wheezed into her lungs as Nathan landed
next to her. “Are you all right?” She nodded and pushed herself up. John lowered himself next as she brushed dirt from the front of her shirt and pants.
“Let’s go.” Nathan led the pack, careening through the trees inside the compound. The heightened risk elevated everyone’s awareness, and Wren felt her mind come alive in the darkness. Her vision grew clearer. The pain in her body faded, and she felt the strength of the moment. Her rage that had gathered in her veins finally hardened. Her muscles flexed in fluent coordination with her commands. The compound had become her drawing board, and the rifle in her hands the pen.
The first buildings came into view. John and Nathan broke off to the north while Wren slowed. She knelt by one of the last trees before the clearing and peered through the scope. The crosshairs focused on two guards, and she nestled closer to the base of the tree, with only the black of the rifle visible around the trunk’s corner.
The sentries moved silently, cloaked in darkness. Wren knew they had night vision. She’d seen them use it against the raiders that had come before. The moment she stepped from behind her cover, she’d be caught. Never had she cursed her deafness more than now.
Patience grew thin with the knowledge that her children were so close, and seconds turned into hours. With the rope holding her back fraying, she pivoted slowly, creeping around the edge of the trunk, lifting her scope. She exhaled. Nothing but empty space.
With the guards past, Wren hurried to the first building. She hugged the back side of the house, knowing Edric’s residency was close. She hastened her speed, with nothing ahead but open ground. If she was caught here, her cover was blown.
The late hour had tucked most of the residents to bed for the night, but even still, Wren was mindful between the houses, knowing that anyone could wake in the night. When Edric’s home finally came into view, she slowed.
A cluster of trees thrust itself inconveniently from the clearing, challenging the open space the camp had inflicted upon the forest. Wren smiled at nature’s defiant act, knowing it had been a point of contention with Edric.
Wren lingered a few dozen yards from the house, waiting for any sign of motion, scanning every corner and crevice before her first step. She’d only get one shot at this, and if she was wrong, or if she was caught, her children were dead.
Once she’d double-checked her surroundings, she planted her right foot forward then froze. She looked from side to side. Another step. And another. She kept the methodical, steady pace until she arrived at the window and crouched low.
Slowly, Wren craned her neck to the window’s corner. At first, nothing but darkness stared back at her. She blinked away the emptiness a few times, and the room took shape. A dresser appeared on the far wall. With a point of reference, she slowly mapped the room in her mind, her search catching the shape of a doorknob, a bedpost, and a pair of shoes.
Wren kept her eyes on the bedpost and craned her neck to try and get a better look at who slept, but all she managed to catch a glimpse of was the ruffle of sheets. She glued her back to the cabin’s wall and looked to the east, where the fuel deposit rested. What is taking them so long?
The cabin itself was raised slightly off the ground, and Wren positioned herself by the front door and started digging. She burrowed out a hole and slithered underneath, her lips grainy with soil as she nestled inside. The space was so narrow that she could barely lift her head. Every breath squeezed her harder against the confined space, and she fought against the growing claustrophobic panic. She focused on slowing her heart rate, and inhaled slowly through her nose and exhaled out her mouth.
Wren positioned herself to face east, and she kept her eyes glued to the sky, waiting for the plume of fire and smoke that would wake the entire forest. She tucked the rifle close to her body, and she stiffened as time passed. She stretched her neck a quarter inch to the right and half as much to the left. It was all the movement the space afforded. And just when her impatience tipped to the edge of action, she felt the ground rumble under her belly. A sudden burst of fire and earth greeted her gaze to the east, the plume rising for only a split second before extinguishing into the night.
Pounding feet thundered on the floor overhead, and Wren recognized Edric’s voice as he shouted to someone inside. The words were muffled and indecipherable, but the panicked and hurried tone told her all she needed to hear.
The door burst open, and Wren watched Edric’s legs sprint toward the sight of the explosion. Shouts erupted in the night as the quiet of the camp ended with every confused order barked from the lips of Edric’s men. She lingered under the building a minute longer, looking to her left and right, waiting for the rest of his goons to flock to the explosion.
With the coast clear all around, Wren wriggled her way to the front of the building. She brought her hands from under the bottom of the house, digging her fingertips into the siding to pull herself out, when the door burst open again. She jerked back underneath, frozen in the hopes that whoever left hadn’t seen her. She watched feet hurry across the grass and waited until they were out of sight.
Wren exhaled and returned to her escape. Her stomach scraped along the house’s undercarriage, and she rolled across the dirt with her final heave from the cramped coffin. She knocked the dirt from her rifle and stepped inside the house. She squinted into the darkness, every motion a knee-jerk reaction in her heightened state of awareness.
“Chloe! Addison!” She whispered their names, her voice barely rising above the creak of the floorboards. Please let them be here. She smacked her knee on the corner of a table, and a crash followed the sharp curse as she limped forward. “Zack! Chloe!”
Scratches sounded to her right. She froze, silencing the creak of the floorboard. She lowered her weapon and saw the outline of a door. She pulled the handle. Locked. The scratching intensified, and Wren rattled the doorknob viciously. “Chloe? Addison? Can you hear me?” Again, nothing but scratches answered, and Wren stepped back. She thrust her heel into the door, and the joints along her leg jarred painfully as the wood did nothing more than slightly bend.
Wren raised the butt of her rifle and smacked it against the knob. The wood around the lock splintered, and she quickly struck it again. The third blow broke it free, and she shoved the door open, her heart sinking as she saw Doug bound and gagged in the small closet space. “Oh my god.” She pulled him out, his body limp, his breathing labored, and his clothes and skin soaked with sweat. She tore the gag from his mouth, and he let out a gasp. “Where are the girls? Where’s Zack?”
Doug shook his head. “I don’t know.” He coughed violently, wheezing between breaths. “I haven’t seen them since you left.” His neck gave out, and he rolled his head, exhausted from the interaction. “I thought you were dead.”
Wren hyperventilated. She clutched her chest. A tingle ran down her left arm, and her shoulder ached. “Fuck.” She pulled her hair. “Jesus fucking Christ.” If the girls weren’t here, then she didn’t have enough time to find them now. She gripped Doug’s shoulders and dug her nails into his shirt, pinching his flesh. “Think, Doug. Where was the last time you saw them? You must have heard something Edric said. Anything.”
“I-I don’t know. I don’t remember him saying anything.” Doug shut his eyes. He shook his head, drips of sweat flying in every direction. “H-He mentioned more guards someplace. It sounded important.”
“Where?” She pulled him closer and tightened her grip, hoping she could force him to hold onto the thought on the tip of his tongue.
“The infirmary.” Doug opened his eyes wide. “I think he’s keeping the kids at the infirmary.”
Without another word, Wren sprinted out of the cabin, shoulder checking the door open. The muscles along her legs burned, but she kept long strides, and her body whined from the exertion.
Gunfire grew louder in its orchestrated chorus in the night air the farther she ran. The rhythm of bullets beat in time with her steps, and she raised the rifle to her shoulder, her finger on the trigger. A sh
adow darted from the side of a building, and Wren aimed but hesitated, unsure of whether it was friend or foe. But the bullets fired in her direction answered the unknown.
Wren returned fire and glided right, her aim sloppy from her movement. Dirt flew up with every bullet that skipped left and right, short and long. The two grew closer, and Wren planted her foot, dropping to one knee, and steadied her aim. The outlined figure centered in the crosshairs, and Wren squeezed. A cry rang out, and the shadow dropped to the ground. The farther she ran, the more shadows appeared, attempting to take her deeper into the darkness.
Flashes burst from Wren’s muzzle and lit up the night with every hurried squeeze of the trigger. She felt the rifle mold to her body, become an extension of her arm as she sprinted through the hail of gunfire. Two figures guarded the infirmary’s flank, and Wren brought the first down easily, but the second caused her to roll left behind the cover of one of the houses.
Wren caught her breath and hocked the thick phlegm that had collected in the swollen pockets of her cheeks. The tip of the muzzle wafted smoke, and she flattened herself to the dirt. She saw the man’s feet frozen in place, no doubt waiting for her to show on either side of the house. But she burrowed forward underneath, shoving aside dirt, grass, and cobwebs as she crawled toward the last obstacle between her and her children. The cramped space made it difficult to position the weapon, but she managed to raise the barrel high enough to get the needed projection, and by the time the sentry realized where she’d gone, he had two bullets in his chest.
Wren squeezed herself from under the house, her eyes never leaving the sight of the infirmary. A wave of dirt trailed her after the final push, and she sprinted toward the door, rifle up, every cell in her body in overdrive as she burst inside. The scene upon her entrance overwhelmed her, but she kept her rifle up. Her finger itched carefully over the trigger, and her whole body tensed. “Let them go!”