Survive the Journey (EMP

by Grace Hamilton

  He turned back around, but a faint movement caught his eye. At first, since it came from down the slope, he assumed it was the fallen tree. But then he realized that the tree had finally come to a stop by slamming sideways against a couple of large pine trees. A few loose branches and needles continued to rain down, but that wasn’t what he’d noticed. Instead, his gaze was drawn farther down the slope to shadowy places deeper in the woods.

  At first, he thought he was just seeing shadows of moving branches, but then he realized he was seeing people. A group of people far down the slope. He could just barely make them out, but they were moving perpendicular to the trail, slipping from tree to tree. Darryl couldn’t tell how many of them there were. It seemed like a large group, but they were far enough away that it might have been an optical illusion.

  “Damn,” he muttered. “Persistent scumbags. What do you want from us?”

  He aimed the rifle in their direction, but the odds of hitting any of them from this distance were close to nil. Would it scare them off? Somehow he doubted it. If anything, it might encourage them to return fire. No, better to get moving, pick up the pace, and lose them. He turned back around and smacked the nearest cow gently on the flank to get it moving again. Most of the other cows followed her lead and resumed walking up the trail.

  Tabitha had finally gotten her horse under control, and Emma had managed to get Horace upright. He was grimacing and clutching his side, but he wasn’t too injured to bear his weight, even with just one leg to stand on. With Tabitha and Emma helping, he managed to climb back into the saddle, though it took a while to get him settled. Darryl caught snatches of Tabitha’s strained voice, and it sounded like she was shouting angrily. Grandma’s mood clearly hadn’t softened.

  Darryl just happened to be looking in that direction when the hard rain hit. He watched it coming down the slope like a great gray curtain. It swept over them, cold and fierce, and suddenly, they were all being drenched. The rain brought with it a dull roar that seemed to fill the whole world.

  Down the slope, Darryl thought. It’s the only way we might lose our pursuers. They’re too close, and they can move faster than us on the trail.

  He ran ahead, passing the cows, to catch up to the horses. It was clear now what they had to do. And maybe the trees would keep out the worst of the rain. Cold raindrops stung his face and ran into his eyes, as he picked up his pace.

  24

  A fierce, stinging rain had begun to fall, coming on them suddenly. Greg pulled up the hood of his coat, but somehow the water still got through to his face. Daniel was walking ahead of him, his hands still tied behind his back. He’d begged to be untied, but Greg didn’t trust him. The last thing he wanted to do was give him a chance to fight back.

  They had cut through the trees to the trail and were following the path along a ridgeline that seemed to be leading away from the river. Indeed, as they went along, the slope began to angle upward.

  “This weather is getting bad,” Daniel said over his shoulder. “The ground is turning swampy. I need my hands, man. How am I supposed to keep my balance?”

  “By not falling down,” Greg replied.

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Daniel said. “If I fall, I won’t be able to catch myself. I’ll land right on my face—break my nose, bust my jaw.”

  “Believe in yourself,” Greg said. “Will yourself not to fall. You can do it.”

  “See, you’re just mocking me. It’s not right, man.”

  Daniel was right; the ground was getting muddy and slippery. Greg could see small rivulets of water pouring down the slope from the heavy rain. Still, when his captive slowed down, he prodded the man in the back.

  “We can’t do this,” Daniel shouted. The rain had drenched his long hair and beard, making him look thoroughly pathetic, like a small, drowned dog. “We’re going to get washed away! Didn’t you learn anything from the flooding?”

  “I learned that a situation can go south at any time,” Greg replied. “I learned to expect the worst and to act preemptively, whether I’m dealing with rain, a river, or a captured bandit.” He had the Winchester firmly in hand, and he kept it pointed at his hostage. “At least if we get washed away, we’ll get washed away together. We’re flood buddies now.”

  “You’re out of your mind,” Daniel said. “You might actually be a crazy person.”

  “Probably so. Drowning will do that to a man.”

  They continued up the slope, but Daniel was dragging his feet, as if he thought pouting might finally win Greg over. Every time he stopped, Greg drove the barrel of the rifle between his shoulder blades and shoved him forward. Daniel didn’t realize how close to the truth he’d come. Greg felt pain in every part of his body, and it had pushed him to the edge. He was indeed as close to losing his mind as he’d ever been.

  Daniel doesn’t realize how tempted I am to get rid of him, he thought. He doesn’t realize that I’m fighting at every moment to save him from myself.

  They’d gone a few hundred meters, following a sharp rise, rainwater running beneath their feet, when Daniel slipped suddenly and went down on his knees. Greg grabbed him under the arm and dragged him to his feet. Now, however, the cold wind was blasting right in their faces, and Daniel had to walk hunched over. Greg almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  “It’s no good,” Daniel cried. “We’ll never make it like this. We’re practically at a standstill.”

  “Well, quit dragging your feet then,” Greg replied, giving him another poke between the shoulder blades. “Buck up, pal. You’re tougher than you think. Soon enough, we’ll catch up to your lover, and we’ll make our friendly trade and go our separate ways in peace. Everyone will walk away from this alive, and you can go find somewhere else to practice your banditry. How does that sound?”

  “Unlikely, is how it sounds” Daniel replied. “We’ll be washed away long before that happens.”

  As if to punctuate his words, there came a loud crack of thunder, and Greg saw a flash of light far ahead of them. Daniel came to a stop, bent over, as if afraid to go on. Greg tried prodding him again, but this time, he didn’t react. Finally, he grabbed the man by the arm and dragged him forward, and Daniel was forced to resume walking just to keep from falling down.

  “No more stopping,” Greg said, releasing his hold on the man’s arm. “You’re not half as pathetic as you pretend to be. It’s an act, and I see right through it. You’re playing it up to try to gain sympathy or pity, so I’ll untie you. I have neither. When my family is threatened, I lose the ability to give a crap about weaselly little guys like you. Got it?”

  “I’m not weaselly,” Daniel replied sharply. “I’m just trying not to get killed. If I’d shot you the first time I saw you, none of this would be happening.”

  “Well, then, you’ve learned an important lesson,” Greg replied. “Your next lesson is how to stay alive by doing what you’re told. Keep walking.”

  Daniel took a step then, and his left boot slipped on mud. Instantly, his foot went out from under him, his loose boot flying off. He tried to correct his balance, but with his hands tied, it was futile. He landed on his side, splashed in muddy water, and began sliding back down the wet trail. Greg was slow to react, and the hostage went sliding right past him.

  “You’re failing the lesson,” Greg said with a sigh. “Am I really going to have to chase after you?”

  Daniel quickly began picking up speed, spinning as he went, and Greg struggled to catch up to him. Every step felt precarious. Suddenly, he lost his own balance and fell forward, landing on his hands and knees, and sliding after Daniel. The trail beneath him seemed to have turned entirely to liquid. He lost his grip on the Winchester, but it slid along with him.

  At a bend in the trail, Daniel went off the trail into the woods and was caught in a tangle of underbrush. Greg managed to drag his fingers into the wet trail and slow himself, and he came to a stop at the trail’s edge. Picking himself up, mud oozing down the front of his coat and pants
, he grabbed the rifle and stepped carefully toward Daniel.

  “Tell me you didn’t do that on purpose,” he said, as he approached his hostage.

  Daniel was on his back, his legs sticking out of the bushes. He was rocking from side to side, trying to rip his way out of the tangle of branches, but he was stuck.

  “Does it look like I did this on purpose?” he shouted. “Get me out of here! You’re heartless.”

  He’d lost both of his boots in the fall. Greg stooped down to grab his legs and pull him out of the bushes. In that moment, however, Daniel kicked outward. He moved much faster than Greg’s sleep-deprived mind could react. Both heels slammed into Greg’s shin, and he fell forward. On the way down, he tried to grab a nearby tree with his free hand, but this only made him spin to one side. He landed in a narrow space between the tree and bush. When he rolled onto his back, he saw Daniel leap to his feet, moving nimbly, and with far more energy than he’d seemed to possess.

  “That’ll do,” Daniel said. “A wise man once told me that a situation can go south at any time, so expect the worst.”

  As Greg tried to pick himself up, he inadvertently let go of the rifle, and it landed with a splash in a puddle. He got a foot under himself and lunged forward, kicking off the ground in his attempt to reach the gun. He managed to fling himself beyond the narrow space, but he slammed into the ground on his ribs, feeling a surge of white-hot agony. Still, the rifle was just out of reach, inches from his fingertips, and he fumbled along the muddy ground trying to grab it.

  Daniel appeared at his side then. He brought his arms forward. Somehow, the shoelace had come untied. “I can’t believe you’d think about shooting me at a time like this. Whatever happened to being flood buddies?”

  He’d pulled his boots back on, and he raised one of them now and brought it down. At the last second, Greg tried to move his hand out of the way, but the heavy heel slammed down on top of it. His knuckles took the brunt of the impact. Greg shrieked as a burst of pain went through his hand and up his arm.

  “Oops, sorry about that,” Daniel said. “I’m so clumsy sometimes.” He used his momentum to bend down and reach for the rifle.

  Having little time to react, Greg didn’t even try to get up. Instead, he rolled toward him, though it caused waves of sickening nausea when he put pressure on his ribs. Daniel saw him coming and stumbled backward to get away, but he slipped again on the wet ground. Flailing his arms, he fell against a nearby tree but managed to keep his feet.

  “I’m going to strangle you for that,” Greg snarled, pushing himself to his hands and feet. The back of his right hand was scraped. He saw a flap of skin hanging off the knuckle of his middle finger “Don’t you get it? I was trying to make peace with your little crew of bandits. I was trying to make peace. If that doesn’t work for you, so be it.”

  A surge of fierce anger, hot as the heart of a flame, filled him, feeding him strength. Greg pushed off the ground, hopping to his feet. Daniel pushed off the tree, his eyes flitting down to the gun. In that moment, a great crash of lightning filled the sky behind him, the rumble coming less than a second later, shaking the treetops. That seemed to break something in Daniel. Instead of going for the rifle, he pushed himself backward, turned, and dashed off into the deepest part of the woods.

  The ground was rough and uneven in that direction, the bushes and vines creating endless obstacles. This slowed Daniel a bit, as he had to take a meandering path. Still, he was moving fast, too fast, and Greg knew he would never catch the man. He was too banged up, even with the burst of adrenaline feeding him. Instead, he stooped down and picked up the gun, wiping a big glob of mud off the barrel.

  He raised the gun, aiming at the zigzagging figure. There were too many damned trees in the way, but Greg did his best to track Daniel through the woods. Suddenly, the man passed through a big gap between trees. He was drenched and muddy, his beard hanging down like a bit of filthy rope. Greg pulled the trigger, sure he would miss. However, Daniel yelped, grabbed his left arm, and fell. He hit the ground, bounced on wet rocks, and slid into a tree.

  “No, no, wait,” he cried in a shrill voice. “Don’t kill me. Don’t do it!”

  Greg picked his way toward Daniel. By the time he got there, the man was on his knees, his left arm hanging limply at his side. The bullet had hit him just above the elbow. Greg couldn’t see the extent of the damage, but the twisted look on Daniel’s face suggested it was bad. Despite this, Daniel started to get up again. He was making weird, wheezing animal sounds.

  “Try to run away again, and the next bullet goes in your back,” Greg said, stepping up behind him and pointing the rifle between his shoulder blades. “I’m still going to make the exchange with Sasha, if I can. For my family’s sake, not for yours.”

  Daniel unleashed a hoarse cry then, rocking back and forth on his knees. “My arm! What did you do to me! I can’t move it, man. It’s destroyed.”

  “Well, what did you expect?” Greg said. “At least I hit your arm and not something vital. Now, get up. We’re going.”

  But Daniel continue to rock back and forth, moaning and whimpering.

  “Daniel, if you’re exaggerating the pain in order to catch me off guard again, I will kill you,” Greg said. “I’m tired of threatening your life, but I’ve given you every chance to survive this. More than you deserve, quite frankly.”

  Daniel’s yelling trailed off, and he seemed to settle down. Indeed, whatever the extent of his wound, it seemed he had indeed been exaggerating. He looked over his shoulder at Greg, resignation in his tired eyes.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “But I had to try.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Greg replied.

  “You would have done the same thing in my place,” Daniel said. “If I’d tied your hands and marched you off at gunpoint to confront your family, you would’ve made every effort to get away from me.”

  “I wouldn’t have bothered you in the first place, moron,” Greg said. “You started this, remember? Now, do you want me to look at your wound or not? We can fashion some kind of bandage or sling.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t,” Daniel said, picking himself up. “I think the bullet went all the way through. I can’t tell. My forearm is mostly numb. Whatever the case, I don’t want you touching me.”

  “Very well.” Greg stepped forward, planted a hand against his back, and shoved him in the direction of the trail. “Let’s get back on track. We have to make up for lost time, thanks to you and your shenanigans.”

  25

  Darryl made his way back through the caravan to the others, surer of his decision by the minute but still dreading it. He felt like he was about to recommend that his family jump off a cliff. Still, it had been Grandma’s idea first, and she’d argued for it vociferously.

  Is this how Dad felt when he chose the shorter trail? he wondered. It feels like the right thing to do and absolute folly at the same time. If something bad happens, I’ll never forgive myself.

  Emma was nudging one of the lead cows back into line when he approached her. The rain was coming down harder now. Its constant drumming against his hood, against his back, felt like nature was somehow trying to humiliate him. Or warn him.

  “Emma,” he said. He had to speak louder than normal to be heard over the roar of rain. “We’ve reached a decision.”

  She gave the cow a pat on the flank and turned to Darryl. She was knitting her eyebrows, clearly anxious about what he was going to say.

  “Let some of the cows go,” he said. “The stragglers. The ones that keep falling behind. They’ll be more trouble than they’re worth.”

  “We’ve already lost two more since the rain started,” she replied.

  “I know. And if we lose every cow, it’ll be worth it so long as we get to the cabin safe and sound,” he said.

  She nodded sadly. As he passed her, he grabbed her shoulder and squeezed gently. He would have hugged her if not for the rain, though hugs were rare between them. Justine was standi
ng beside Marion’s horse now. She’d moved the papoose to the front, and she was shielding the baby’s face from the rain with her hands.. She came toward him.

  “Tell me we have some sort of plan,” she said. “Standing here in the rain doesn’t seem like the right thing to do.”

  He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. “We have a plan. I’m worried about you, though. The next part of our journey isn’t going to be easy, but we have to get ahead of these strange people who are following us.”

  “So the fire back there didn’t stop them?” she asked.

  “I’m afraid not. They’re trying to sneak around it.” Darryl reached through the little opening in the papoose and brushed the baby’s fat cheek with his finger.

  “Don’t wake him,” Justine said. “He’s sleeping.”

  “Got it.”

  He moved past Justine, approaching the horses. Horace was back in the saddle. He’d produced a small silver flash from an inner pocket—emergency whiskey, perhaps—and he was sipping it. Tabitha had climbed down for some reason, and she was currently standing beside their horse with her forehand in her hand. As Darryl approached, they both looked at him. Marion was in the other saddle, bent forward and shielding her eyes from the rain.

  “Mom, you need to get back on your horse,” she said. “Where are you going?”

  “What is Emma doing back there?” Tabitha said sharply.

  Darryl looked back and saw his sister shooing a couple of cows away. Stragglers, they were always at the back of the line, always at least a few yards behind the others.

  “What is she doing to the cattle?” Tabitha said, even more sharply. “Why is she running them away like that?”