by Ray Wench
“Don't shoot!” a voice called out.
“Toss all your weapons over the rocks,” Mark commanded. The rifle flew up and landed well out of reach of the shooter. From another spot to the right, another gun went airborne, clattering among the boulders.
“Now, climb out of there where we can see you.”
“How do we know you won't shoot us?”
“Well, you don't, I guess, but know this, if you don't come out, we'll shoot you for sure.”
“Okay. Okay.” Extended hands stretched above the rocks. “Please don't shoot.”
The surviving two men came into view. As they climbed up, Becca and Bobby advanced on them.
“Hey,” shouted Lincoln, and a gunshot sparked off the rocks between Bobby and Becca and the two raiders. Mark swung his gun toward the shooter. Lincoln wrested the rifle away from the other man then delivered a savage punch to his head. “You asshole! They surrendered. We don't kill defenseless people.”
The man backed away, rubbing his head. “You can't trust them. Elijah says never to take them prisoner ’cause they'll only find a way to hurt you later.”
“You're not with Elijah.”
“He is now,” the voice startled them. They turned to see ten people standing along the rocks, their weapons aimed at them. “You will release my man and surrender your weapons.”
“I don't think so,” Mark said.
“Then you'll die.”
“Then you will.”
“Your people will never get here in time to save you or stop us. We'll be back in the woods long before they arrive.”
“Is this really how you want this to go?”
“No, but it's for the best. Your presence disrupts the norm and brings us danger.”
“Your best bet is to let us go in peace.”
“I wish it were that easy.”
“It is.”
Elijah pondered that for a moment, then shook his head. “Sorry, I just can't trust you. The lives of these people depend on my decisions. I can't risk them by making the wrong choice.”
Rage ignited within Mark. About to attack and risk the outcome, a red dot crawled across Elijah's chest. It danced on his chest as if signaling to Mark.
He smiled. “I'll tell you what,” he said, raising one hand over his head in slow motion. “You either back away, drop your weapons, or die.”
A confused look crossed Elijah's face, morphing into a smirk. “Now that's some bravado. Are you going to kill us all with this many guns pointed at you.”
Mark smiled back, but with a hard cold glint in his eyes. “No, just you. As soon as my hand comes down, the sniper who has you in his sights will put you down.”
“Sniper?”
Mark motioned with his head at Elijah. Elijah lowered his gaze and saw the dancing dot on his chest. His eyes widened, the reality of his situation hit him like a fist. “I, uh, I ...”
“Yeah, I'd be speechless too. Back away while you still can.”
Darlene yelled, “No, we've got them.”
“Shut up, Darlene.” The words snapped like a whip leaving her mouth open. “Everyone lower your guns and back away.”
Mark didn't look, but he was aware of an approaching engine. As the jeep's machine gun appeared over the rocks, Elijah's group broke and fled. Mark sat in relief, the anger and fear flooding out of him, leaving him drained.
Thirty-Four
“Looks like the rest of them are cutting and running,” Lincoln said.
Mark didn't respond. He stared at the two captives, deciding how best to utilize them. Question them was the obvious choice, but he wondered if these men could somehow get him and others aboard the freighter to find Shavonne. He opened his mouth to ask some questions when someone climbed the land side of the rocks in a hurry. Lynn perched there, staring back at him.
His heart soared and a lump formed in his throat. He cleared it to say something, anything, so as not to look like the fool he now felt, but another lump replaced it. Overwhelmed by emotion, he was unable to move. Lynn would never understand what it meant to him that she had come to rescue him. Never great with words, he doubted he was able to express what he was feeling.
She stared down at him apparently waging her own internal struggle. She looked amazing, poised high above him, the rising sun behind her, a halo highlighting her fair hair with a golden essence. He loved this woman with all his being. He'd been a fool and she was right. His desire to go fishing miles away from home had put them all in danger.
“Oh, for God's sake,” Becca shouted, “hug each other before you both explode.”
It was enough to break the spell. Mark issued an embarrassed laugh and stepped toward the rock, one hand outstretched to Lynn, intending to help her down. Their fingers touched and lit a fire deep within him. Mark reached up, wrapped his strong hands around her hips and lifted her. He held her there for a few moments staring up into her eyes before setting her gently on the uneven rocks.
Tears welled in her eyes and he brushed hair from the sheen on her face. They threw their faces at each other and kissed, passion exploding around them.
“Aw geez,” said Becca, “I said hug, not tongue wrestle. Get a room. You're scaring the little children.”
They broke the kiss and it lingered on his lips. Without looking, Mark said, “Becca, go to your room,” and he kissed Lynn again. This time when they broke apart, he pulled her close and held her tight. “I'm sorry. You were right.”
“Hush, it's over now.” She pushed back to look at him. A lone tear streaked down her face. He wiped it away. “And, for the record,” she said, “of course I was right.” She smiled.
He hugged her again. “Forgive me.”
“Let's talk about it later. Let's gather everyone up and go home.”
Her statement not only ruined the moment, but he realized what he was about to say would annoy her all over again. “We can't. Not yet.”
She studied him, no longer smiling. “Why?”
“We have two things we need to do first. Please, hear me out.”
She nodded. “Okay, but I think everyone should hear so they all get a chance to weigh in on it.”
“Good idea.” He turned to his kids. “I need one of you to stay here and guard them.”
Becca stood and said, “I caught more fish, Bobby can do it.”
“Hey!” he said, jumping to his feet.
“I've got a better idea,” Mark said. “You both watch them and I'll fill you in later.”
“Now see, that's just wrong,” Becca said. “I can think of a ton of qualifiers that Bobby's the one who should stay. I'm older. I'm smarter. I'm obviously way prettier.”
“Both.”
“But, I could go on.”
“I'm sure you could. Feel free to continue after I leave,” he said, scaling the rocks.
“Dad, that's just wrong. This is like a double punishment,” Bobby whined.
Mark chuckled to himself and jumped to the ground.
Lynn called the entire entourage together near the building. Mark arrived as she finished her statement. “So, you'll have a choice, but wait until you hear what Mark has to say. Mark.”
“First, I want to thank you all for coming to our aid. It means a lot and reinforces the bond we've formed as a family and community. Lynn has already told you I want to stay, but regardless of my own feelings on the matter, it's up to you if you want to assist.
“Earlier, yesterday actually, we ran into the group we just fought off. They found a family hiding on that big sailboat, over there.” He pointed.
Most of the group turned their heads to look. One person said, “Sweet boat!” Others agreed.
He went on. “Bobby, Becca and I managed to rescue the boy and the man, but as some of you are aware, the man was wounded. Bobby and Becca brought the boy and man to the farm.
“The raiders took the little girl, Kendra, and the woman, Shavonne, was determined to get her back. I stayed to help. Under the guise of making a trade, Shavonne
was able to get on board this huge freighter out on the lake. She somehow managed to grab Kendra and drop her overboard where I picked her up and fled. However, Shavonne was captured before she could jump.
“I have two goals here, one is to get Kendra away from a group who helped us at first, but now I'm not sure if they're friend or foe. The other is to try to get Shavonne back.” He paused, waiting for comment.
One of the men said, “Not to sound cruel or anything, but these people aren't part of our community. We'd be risking our lives for people we don't know.”
Mark started to speak, but Lynn interrupted. “Whether they're one of us or not shouldn't enter into your decision. At one time, all of us were strangers to the community, me included. Instead, look at them as people, fellow survivors. If it were you, wouldn't you be praying for a rescue from somewhere?
“Look, I'm not trying to talk you into anything. I don't have that right. One of the reasons our community has survived and grown is that we have the freedom to decide. Think of some of those other groups we've encountered that didn't live that way. A few made the decisions and basically ruled the others like kings or dictators. I don't ever want us to be like that. If you want to help, great. If not, no judgment.”
Tara said, “I'll stay, but how do you plan on getting on board that freighter? Sounds to me like a suicide mission.”
“I don't plan on attacking it,” Mark said. “I'm going pitch the idea of a trade. The two men we have captured for Shavonne.”
Tara nodded.
“That way, no one will be in danger, but me. I'll need help making the transfer if they decide to go with it. As far as getting Kendra back, I think that will just take a show of force. I'm not sure what's going on there, but I think we can salvage some sort of relationship. Again, I'm hoping that will be a negotiation.”
“I have a suggestion,” said Mel. “I think one vehicle should go back and take our wounded. We also have two dead that need to be buried, either here or back at the farm.”
“Good suggestion,” Mark said.
Lynn added, “They're members of our community. I think they should be buried at the farm where the other members can pay their respects.”
After a little more discussion it was decided that Private Menke would take the minivan back with Antwan and the two bodies. Two others went with them, one to look after Antwan and the other to ride shotgun. The remaining members grouped around Mark and Tara.
“I think we should go for Kendra first.” Mark swept his gaze slowly from face-to-face. “I'm hoping I can reason with Elijah. I don't know what his agenda is, but we shouldn't be enemies. However, the best form of negotiation is from a superior position. We'll have to surround their encampment, but I don't want anyone shooting. Tara, you take charge of the placement of the group, while I go in to talk to Elijah.”
Tara took over. “We won't be able to utilize the machine gun's firing power if this camp is where you say it is. That will cut out a lot of negotiating power. Also, I'll have to leave someone with the gun. We can't afford to lose it. We also have to consider that they will be prepared for us. So, do not go off by yourself, or start shooting blindly. Let me decide when and if that time arrives. Let's get ready to move.”
The group dispersed, heading to the two vehicles. Tara turned to Mark. “What are we going to do with our prisoners?”
“We'll have to leave someone to watch them. I hate to do it, but we'll need them.”
“Let's tie them up … less chance of escape. I'd like to have more of an advantage going into the woods. Sounds like we'll be outnumbered.”
“We will, but I'm hoping Elijah will be willing to talk and avoid bloodshed. I'll carry my radio with me and leave the channel open so you can hear. I'll see if I can draw him to me, instead of going into their camp.”
“That'd be good.” She rubbed her face in a thoughtful gesture. “I wish there was a better way. Is this girl that important?”
He shrugged. “I think she will be if we manage to get Shavonne back, but I'm going to leave it up to her. If she wants to stay, I'll walk away.”
“What about if we get Shavonne back?”
“I guess we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
Thirty-Five
They took the main road a mile west thinking they might have a better chance of closing on the camp from a different vantage point. Tara drove her SUV up the dirt driveway of a long abandoned and overgrown house. A portion of the porch had collapsed, and more than half the chimney had crumbled and fallen. Both front windows had been broken at some point.
Tara led them behind the house using it to block their presence from the road. They gathered for final instructions before Mark walked toward the woods behind the house. Lynn caught him before he'd gone three steps. “Hold on a second there, mister. You're not going anywhere without saying goodbye.”
He smiled, accepted her embrace and added a kiss. Their eyes held for a long moment before she released him. “Here,” she handed him her white towel. “Just in case.”
“Might come in handy. Thanks.”
“Go. Save that child. We'll talk when you get back.”
He nodded and left her there. By the time he reached the trees, Becca had fallen in step. He glanced up but wasn't surprised to see her. He didn't bother trying to convince her to go with the other group. If she was next to him, it meant that was what she decided to do. “Do what I tell you.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Her voice was too sweet. He had to swallow the chuckle.
They entered the trees and veered to a course Mark projected would bring them to the camp. As he walked, he tried to figure the possible scenarios and how to deal with them. Elijah would either have his group in defensive positions, or they would be gone.
They walked on for nearly thirty minutes before he stopped to get his bearings. The woods weren't necessarily thick, but the undergrowth was dense enough to obscure lines-of-sight. Mark altered course a bit and walked with more caution and in more of a defensive crouch. After another five minutes, he whispered to his daughter, “I'm about to draw attention. Move off to the side a good twenty feet and be ready. I don't know what the response will be.”
She did as instructed without a word. Mark keyed the radio. “Position?”
“Close.”
“I'm going to announce my presence.”
“Roger. Give me sixty.”
“Roger.”
Mark moved forward for another sixty seconds then stopped behind a tree large enough to offer cover. He looked out around the trunk and did a slow scan of the area in front of him. Nothing moved or looked out of place. Becca, knelt behind a tree thirty feet to his left, her eyes hard, penetrating the foliage.
Taking a deep breath, Mark shouted, “Elijah.” He waited and tried again. “Elijah, it's Mark. I want to talk.” Still no reply. He looked for another tree and moved low and fast to it. He switched to the left side of the trunk and searched the area. “Elijah, all I want to do is talk.”
He moved again, but this time as he pulled behind the tree, a bullet chipped bark inches from his arm. He winced, feeling a splinter embed itself. He heard angry voices. “Elijah, I don't want a fight, but if you force it, I promise you I will make it bloody. Is that what you want?”
“We don't want a fight, but we're not afraid to do so. The best way to avoid bloodshed is for you to leave.”
“And, I will do that, once I see Kendra.”
“No,” another voice shouted, more to the left.
Mark recognized it as Darlene. “Elijah, let's talk about this. You and me. No one else. Just talk.”
“We can talk just fine from here.”
“I want to speak to Kendra to see what she wants.”
“She's fine right here.”
“If that's her decision, I have no problem with it, but I want to hear that from her and, I want to see her when she says it.”
Silence. The low murmur of discussion reached him seconds later.
“I
think we should just let it go. Kendra will be all right here. She will not be mistreated. We will treat her like family.”
“I'm glad to hear that, but here's the thing. We're gonna attempt to get the woman she lived with back from the raiders. If we do, she is gonna want to see Kendra. Will you be willing to take her in too?”
“Yes, that will not be a problem.”
“And what if they decide they want to leave?”
More silence.
“Elijah, that's why we need to talk. I have no problem if they want to stay with you, but I have to know that you'll let them go if they want to leave.”
A rustling noise from behind gave him a start. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Mark kept watching the woods in front of him but focused his hearing on his immediate vicinity. He was sure he had pinpointed Elijah’s position, not more than thirty yards in front and slightly to the right. But if he was there, who was closing in on him?
The crunch of a dried leaf reinforced his belief he wasn't alone. He turned his head in slow, almost imperceptible increments. It wouldn't be Becca. She would've had the sense to give him a signal. Besides, he'd seen her work before. If she was sneaking up on him, he didn't think he'd hear her. He braced, ready to react.
Like an animal pouncing on prey, Darlene burst through the foliage, knife aimed like a spear, bearing down on him. Too late to dodge, he raised his hands to deflect, but before she made contact, a blur streaked in from the side like a guided missile and slammed into her. The ball of limbs rolled across the forest floor, careening off trees and flattening brush. They stopped and separated. The combatants sprang to their feet. Becca faced Darlene, their eyes locked and burning with hate, each wielding a long-bladed knife.
The two warriors circled wary steps to the right, searching for an opening. Mark was about to run to his daughter's aid when he saw movement through the branches. He raised his rifle and drew a bead. Though concerned for his daughter, he knew he could not afford to help her. The chances for them to be overwhelmed were too great. He sneaked glances in her direction but otherwise kept his sights on the trees.