Reach the cabin. Have to reach the cabin. The mantra continues in my mind, but they ring hollow as new words butt in. I won’t reach the cabin. I won’t see my family. A bullet in the back is how this story ends.
A sudden note carries on the air: a whistle, sharp and melodious. I’m imagining things. But it sounds again, so loud and clear there is no mistaking it.
“This way,” I shout, changing course to a small hill on our right.
“Are you crazy?” Lylette asks. “They’ll pick us off for sure.”
“Trust me,” I pant. “They won’t.”
Chapter 5: (Lauren)
Slowly, the man takes shape. Where once there was nothing but three misshapen balls of snow now rests a head, a torso, a bottom. His arms are made of sticks. His facial features made of rocks. A threadbare hat sits atop his head while a tattered tablecloth serves as a makeshift scarf. Two little girls gather around him in pride, soaking in their accomplishment. Abigail, Morgan's cousin, spots me looking and waives, gesturing to the snowman. I laugh and give a thumbs up, her obvious joy making it impossible to keep the smile from my face. She turns to her new friend, Becca, and grabs her hand, pulling her into a run toward the far side of the house.
I watch them go, their laughter reaching me through the glass. Their friendship is so simple, so pure. The grudge between the family and the Animals hasn’t touched them. If only the rest of us could follow their example. It’s been ten days since we left the ranch. I thought things might improve between us in that time. I was wrong. In so many ways, things are as tense as they’ve ever been. That no fights have broken out since Frank and Richard that first day is nothing short of a miracle: one I don’t see lasting should things continue the way they have.
That’s not to say there hasn’t been co-operation. Grudgingly, the two sides have worked together to erect some rudimentary security measures. A wooden gate now sits at the entrance to the driveway. The windows have been fortified along the second floor. The people might gripe, might complain, but they also realize our situation. Survival is the one thing we are united on. Still, it’s hard to feel a sense of accomplishment with so much hostility between us. It’s hard to feel safe when neither side can trust the other. Then again, safety can be deceiving. We thought the farm was a place of safety, a place sheltered from the violence of town. But the violence found us all the same. All we did was buy us time. And though I try to remain optimistic, that’s exactly what it feels like we’re doing here.
The sun sinks behind the high hill to our west, casting us in shadow. Only an hour until dark.
“You wouldn’t think there was anything wrong with the world by looking at them, would you?” I turn and find Frank standing a few feet to my right. I didn’t even hear him approach. He gestures to Abigail and Becca, a small smile on his face that does little to hide the deep sadness that fills his eyes.
I turn back to the girls. “No, you wouldn’t,” I say.
I expect him to say something else, but he doesn’t. He stands in silence, his eyes moving from the girls to the trees, to the hillsides, scanning the area as if searching for something. Or someone, I realize. I can tell in worry lines that crease his face and the fear he exhales with each breath. I know that fear well. I feel it grip me every time I watch Morgan disappear—the same fear that grips him now as he waits for his nephew to return.
“That’s a good thing though,” I say, trying to distract him if only for a moment. “Hearing them laugh. It makes me feel like maybe we’re doing something right.”
He nods, face thoughtful. “You’re right,” he says. “I haven’t heard much laughter these past months...At least not the laughter of children.”
No, I don’t imagine he would have. Months serving as the Animal’s enforcer, answering to the cruelest of men in order to protect his daughters. The things he must have done chill my blood, but not nearly as much as the thought of what I would have done if I were in his place. My whole life I’ve done whatever it takes to protect Grace, enduring horrors both before and after society collapsed. But to kill others who have done me no harm? To capture and condemn others to the same cruel fate? If Barr held a gun to her head and ordered me to do such things, I honestly don’t know what I would do. I feel noxious just thinking about it.
Over five months. That’s how long the Animals had Frank under their control. Nearly half a year of his life dedicated to turning them from a gang of thugs into the juggernaut that has taken control of the entire area. He may no longer serve the Animals, but he will never be free of them. Not entirely. The sins he committed will haunt him until his dying day.
A wave of cold anger spreads through me as I think of the Animals and all they’ve done. They’ve spilled so much blood, caused so much pain and suffering. How many families have been torn apart? How many lives ruined? I don’t even want to know. The number would only anger me further.
One day, I think to myself. One day they will get what’s coming to them.
Frank tenses beside me, his grip tightening on the barricade, making his knuckles turn white as the aspen beneath his hand. I follow his gaze to the hillside, a solitary figure scaling down with frantic desperation. My eyes narrow, my own knuckles whitening as my grip on the barricade tightens. Felix. Felix without Morgan.
Frank and I move at the same time, racing toward the door, a quick shout of warning that something’s wrong hollered over my shoulder. We fly out the door and are halfway to the treeline when Felix emerges from within it, gasping for breath. More people follow us out the door, shouting in alarm as they spot Felix.
“Mijo, what’s wrong?” Frank asks him, fearful and concerned. “What’s happened?”
“Animals,” Felix pants, bent at the waist. “Saw them on the road. A dozen trucks at least. Had a semi-trailer with em’ too.”
I feel my stomach drop. “Where’s Morgan?”
“Went to warn Philip,” Felix says, straightening up. “The Animals are heading straight for the place.”
Panic rises within me, flooding my veins with sudden adrenaline. “We have to go too!” I say, looking around. “If the Animals attack the ranch, Morgan might need us.”
“Are you crazy?” one of the former Animals asks. “I’m not going within a mile of the place!”
“Coward,” Angela says, glaring at the man. I’ve worked with her several times now. I rather like the woman. She does her work without complaint, seemingly immune to the hostility between our two groups. And while our conversations are rarely deeper than the tasks we’ve been assigned, I know one thing: her hatred for the Animals is as strong as anyone here.
“Call me what you like,” the man says, flushing red. “But I’m not gonna stick my neck out to save one man. Especially not one on Barr’s hitlist.”
“That’s exactly why we should go,” Angela says. “If Barr’s conducting this big of a raid, bet your ass he will be there. This is our chance. Cut off the head, and the body will shrivel and die.”
That gives the man pause. And not only him. Her words have given even the most scared and reluctant around us reason to consider.
“They’re both right,” Richard says. “And in any case, we need eyes on the situation. If the ranch falls, I doubt it will take much for them to give up our location. We need to know what we’re dealing with. And if we get the chance to take down that son of a bitch, all the better.”
Both Richard and Angela make valid points, enough so that people do not argue against the fact. Not everyone’s on board, the man Angela called a coward chief among them, but they are the minority. Richard looks around him.
“We’re never going to outmuscle the Animals,” he says. “We need a small group that can move fast. Stealth and speed is our only option.”
I’m the first to step up, immediately followed by Leon, Felix, and Emily. Hardly surprising. The four of us were going regardless of what the others decided. Vince quickly voices his support as well, insisting at his fiance’s protest that Morgan would do the s
ame for him. Richard and Angela are already on board. Apparently, Richard’s usual disdain for the former Animals doesn’t extend to her. Perhaps because he too heard the longing in her voice when she spoke of killing Barr. It’s when Frank and Val volunteer that he voices his dissent.
“Why so eager to join us?” Richard asks. “Desperate to return to your master’s side?”
Frank doesn’t take the bait, but there is an angry edge to his voice that wasn’t previously there. “We’ve been through this,” he says. “But to answer your question: No. I’m eager to help a man I love like my own son.”
Richard opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “We don’t have time for this,” I say, rounding on Richard. “If you can’t get on board with them coming, then stay here. As for me, I’m done with this conversation.”
I stalk past him, storming into the house to gather the essentials for the night ahead. The others join me, loading their weapons and storing extra magazines and ammo on their person for easy access. Within minutes we are ready to depart, the frenzied, last-second goodbye’s that has become all too normal shared by both the family and Animals alike. I watch Leon hug his parents, and Felix holding his aunt's hand as he whispers into her ear. I watch Mrs. Taylor release Emily and Mr. Taylor bending down to kiss her atop her head. Not ten feet from each other, Richard and Frank hold their daughters in their arms, their eyes closed as if relishing every second of their embrace. The fools. If they would only open their eyes they would see how alike they really are.
“Stay safe,” my sister says into my ear. “And bring him back.”
I squeeze her close. “That’s a promise,” I assure her.
I straighten out and meet her eyes, surprised to find them free of tears. There is worry. Fear. But more than anything there is conviction, a fierceness I’ve never seen from her. I feel it as I would a shot of whiskey, my nerves calming as a warmth settles in my belly. It seems like yesterday that she was the smiling girl who I sang to sleep, delicate as the flowers she would decorate our small apartment with. She’s no longer either, I realize. I reach out and run my fingers through her hair as I once did, unable to keep the smile from my face.
“I love you, Gracie,” I say.
“Love you too,” she says.
I withdraw my hand and head for the door. Angela waits, tapping her foot impatiently. Out of our party, she alone leaves behind no hugs or words of comfort. Now that I think of it, I don’t recall ever seeing her show any outward signs of affection, not even toward the Animals among her. She turns toward me, her face cold and void of emotion. Just a guess, but I don’t think her story is a happy one. Morgan told me that the first day we scouted with the woman. Seeing her now, recalling all the days spent in her company, I realize he was right.
“Ready?” I ask, unsettled by the revelation.
“Been,” she says gruffly. Seeing the two of us, the others finish their goodbyes and shoulder their weapons.
“Thank you for speaking up earlier,” I say quietly.
She makes a sound of indifference. “I didn’t do it for you,” she says. “Or your boyfriend.”
“I know you didn’t,” I say. “But I appreciate it all the same...And I want to let you know that if I can help you with your mission, I will.”
Her face remains cold and emotionless as she studies me. Then, finally, she nods. “Thank you.”
She’s the first out the door, and I follow close on her heels. We pass our vehicles sitting in the driveway. They won’t be part of the plan tonight. They’re too loud, the road to the ranch nearly three times as far as compared to cutting through the forest. Not to mention the fact that it would be nearly impossible to conceal our approach. And as Felix pointed out, we need to take the route Morgan would take to make it back to the cabin.
We pick ourselves over our newly erected gate and spill into the trees on the opposite side of the road. Night has completely fallen now. Felix and Richard take point as we travel, the two of them having the keenest eyes among us. I keep my eyes peeled for threats, but it’s difficult to spot anything when it takes nearly all my concentration to keep my footing and dodge the trees and undergrowth we travel through. Even so, I fall to my knees twice, the blistering pace set by Felix and Richard making it inevitable. I’m not alone either. Everyone loses their footing at least once, with Felix the only exception.
A tall hillside looms ahead that we scamper up, hoping it will give us a good vantage point to scout the course ahead. My legs begin to cramp halfway up, the cold and exertion settling in. Only the thought of Morgan keeps me from stopping. I’m the fourth to crest the hill, Felix, Richard, and Frank the only ones to beat me. I collapse to my knees, hacking and coughing as I struggle to catch my breath. It’s Frank’s curse that makes me look up.
Flames burn in the distance, no more than specks of flickering light from where we stand but instantly recognizable against the night. The rest of our group crests the hill, their reactions nearly identical: heavy silence followed by a stream of curses.
We’re too late...If fires already burn we have no chance of reaching the ranch in time. I shake my head, willing those thoughts away. I don’t know anything yet. And I won’t find out standing here.
I take off without a word or backward glance, my fear acting as a second wind. I fly down the backside of the hill, slipping and sliding so much it’s a small wonder I don’t trip and tumble the whole way down. Felix catches up with me at the bottom, the level ground stealing my momentum. The cramps that attacked my legs while climbing the hill flares and then fades, an icy numbness setting in the further we travel. The same numbness does not extend to the rest of me. My side aches something fierce. Each breath of cold air sending streaks of fire through my chest and lungs.
For Morgan. Have to keep going...For Morgan.
The thought alone is what keeps me on my feet, but I can feel the fatigue taking hold. Each stride is harder than the one before. I don’t know how much longer I can go without collapsing. As if he’s read my thoughts, Felix slides to a halt, holding out his arm to stop me. I turn to him, about to argue stopping even though my body demands it. He points and I turn, spotting it immediately. Lights weave through the trees, too bright and reaching to be anything other than flashlights. My stomach flutters in a mixture of dread and excitement.
“It could be Morgan!” Emily pants, catching up to us.
“Only one way to find out,” I say. Before I can take more than a single step, Felix grabs me by the arm. “Let go!” I seethe, pulling my arm away.
“Wait!” he says. “Yes, it could be Morgan, but it could also be a squad of Animals hunting down escapees from the ranch.”
“I don’t care,” I say, already turning to take off again. “We still have to know.”
“Yes, we do,” Richard says. “But there are smarter ways than rushing in blind.”
I pause mid-step. He’s right, I’m being reckless. Forcing a deep breath, I turn and face them again.
“What do you suggest?” I ask.
He thinks for a minute, gauging the lights in the distance and scanning our surroundings. “There,” he says, pointing to a small hillside to our left, the entire expanse thick with trees. “They’re heading straight toward it. They should pass directly below.”
I look from the lights to the hill. Again, he’s right. The lights are moving straight toward it. “Then let’s move,” I say.
We rush for the hill, spreading out in pairs a quarter of the way up. No sooner do we get into position that a gunshot rings out into the night. Another shot follows, immediately followed by another, and another until it turns into a steady stream of fire. Felix must sense my urge to leave, to act, warning me to wait. The sound grows louder, the lights draw closer. And then I hear Felix curse.
“It’s him!” he says.
My eyes zero in on Morgan as the words leave his mouth. He rushes just ahead of the lights with a small group of people, a small figure carried on his back. Felix whistles, the no
te clear and melodious. Morgan looks up at the sound, head swiveling in all directions. Felix whistles again and Morgan’s head whips directly to us. He shouts a command I can’t decipher, the rest of his group following him as he makes a beeline our way. Still, shots follow them, kicking up the snow at their feet and ricocheting off the trees they pass. My rifle is aimed and ready, every second that passes testing my ever fraying patience.
Wait for the signal. I grit my teeth and force myself to do so.
They reach the base of the hill and begin to climb, their pursuers hot on their heels. They’re close. Thirty feet. Twenty. Morgan’s eyes flick to mine and my heart nearly jumps into my throat. Then he’s passed.
“Take cover!” he shouts, sliding behind the shelter of a tree just beyond my own. The others take heed, sliding behind the closest trees they can reach.
“Now!” Richard yells. I unload, pulling the trigger as fast as I can line up my shots. It’s carnage, the Animals rushing into a firing line in close quarters. Most die before they know what’s happened, falling to the snow without firing a single shot.
“Hold!” Richard yells. We hold, keeping our rifles at the ready, searching for targets to materialize out of the darkness. None do, the only movement coming from two Animals who writhe and whimper as they bleed out. Two quick shots from Richard and they go still.
“Clear,” Richard says.
The moment the word leaves his mouth, I turn only to find Morgan has already closed the distance between us. I feel a breath of relief leave his body as he pulls me into his arms, his smile so grand and disbelieving it shatters the brave facade I’ve worn like armor since leaving the cabin. My body shakes and tears swell in my eyes, the relief I feel overwhelming after the fear that gripped me.
“I knew you would come,” he says.
I clear my throat. “You did?” I ask.
Echoes of a Dying World (Book 3): A Dream of Tomorrow Page 7