Roland: Reluctant Paladin

by N. C. Reed

  “All right,” he said finally. “Lead us over there, Wilbur,” Brick ordered. “Jack, you come with me. Rest of you, see about Greg and Johnny.” There was no helping Tommy, nor the other man. Both were shot in the head.

  The three of them walked over to the spot Wilbur had indicated, near a fallen log. Brick pointed Jack around the left, and eased to the right, leaving Wilbur to the front of the tree.

  There was no one there, Brick discovered, but someone had been there. The grass was still flattened in places, and he could see where the toes of the man’s boots had dug into the softer ground where moss was growing. He smiled when he saw something else.

  “Good eye, Wilbur,” Brick complimented. “And looks like you got him, too,” he added, pointing to a spot a few feet further on. A spot now wet with blood.

  “We’ll send two men back with our wounded, and the rest of us will go on,” Brick ordered. “Whoever this is, he’s wounded, now. Game’s changed.”

  “We’ll git’im.”

  -

  James stopped as soon as he felt it was safe to do so. He found another clump of bushes, just off the path the others had followed, and hid inside. As he sat down he felt something wet on his leg and looked down to see his right pants leg soaked in blood.

  “I got shot?” he said aloud, surprised. He hadn’t even felt it.

  And then, suddenly, he could feel it. He hissed in pain, pulling the leg of his pants up to see an angry hole on the outside of his thigh. The bullet had gone through the meaty part of his leg, the entrance hole much smaller than the exit.

  “Son of a bitch, that hurts!” he exclaimed aloud, then looked around to make sure he hadn’t been heard.

  I gotta fix this, he thought to himself. He quickly shucked off his shirt, and then his tee. He used his knife to cut the tee’s lower half into strips, then cut the front and back of the upper half of his shirt into two large patches. He folded each one twice, and placed them to the exit wound, and then the entrance. He used the strips to bind the makeshift bandages into place, tying them tightly, and hissing in pain once more as he did so.

  All the while the Lab sat watching him intently, though looking back the way they had come every few seconds.

  “I know, they’re probably coming,” he whispered to the dog, and she wagged her tail at him. Once finished James stood, placing his weight on the leg experimentally.

  “I think my running game is gonna be off, girl,” he said softly. The leg hurt, but it would hold, at least for now. He put his shirt back on, and hastily buttoned it up. As he was doing so, he happened to glance at the ground, and was shocked to see blood on the leaves.

  I’m leaving them a trail, he thought. I’ve got to move.

  That galvanized him into action. Grabbing his pack and his rifle, he was on the move again. He had gone less than a dozen steps when he stopped cold, his eyes narrowing.

  He could use that.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Jesse kept up a steady pace, though he was cautious. Today of all days there was no telling who he might find out here. Roland and James had stirred up a hornet’s nest to be sure. Every so often Jesse would stop and just listen for a minute. He’d learned long ago that silence and stillness would often pay big dividends.

  Today was no different. He’d been walking steadily toward the area he thought James and his charges might be in. He came to a lightly wooded area and stopped near a large oak tree, using some scrub brush to conceal himself. He leaned against the tree, resting his back on the trunk, closed his eyes, and listened.

  To voices. Several voices, at that. Growing nearer.

  “For the love of God, shut up!” he heard a woman say. “You have done nothing but complain the entire time. There’s nothing anyone can do to improve our situation until we get to the school, so just shut up!”

  “You little witch!” an older woman’s voice by the sound, retorted. “Just because you...”

  “Shut it!” a man’s voice hissed. “Or stay here! I’m sick o’ listenin’ to ya! Keep your mouth shut and keep movin’! No matter how good James does back there, we gotta keep going, and you’re wastin’ energy runnin’ that mouth o’ yours.”

  James, huh? Jesse thought to himself. Back there didn’t sound good, though. Jesse decided it was time for him to make his presence known.

  “Hold it right there, all of you,” he said firmly, his quiet voice carrying. Everyone froze, and the man in front raised a pistol.

  “No need for that,” Jesse called from cover. “Are you friends of James'?” he asked.

  “You know James?” the woman he’d first heard speaking asked.

  “I do,” Jesse replied. “Friend of mine, in fact, and I’m looking for him. I’m coming out, so let’s all be friendly.” Jesse walked out into the open, surprising them all.

  “Name’s Jesse,” he told them. “James and I work together for a man named Roland. Where is James?”

  “Reckon we need to talk,” the man with the pistol said evenly. “I got a message from James for Roland. Reckon I can give it to you.” Jesse nodded, and motioned for the man to follow him. They walked a short ways off.

  “Name’s Tom Mackey,” the man told him. Jesse’s eyes widened slightly.

  “You ain’t kin to...” Jesse started.

  “Yeah, I am,” Tom nodded. “James asked me about that too, so I reckon you’re on the up and up. Look, we’re in a bad way, folks ain’t able to move much faster, if any. James, he decided to go back, try and buy us some time. We’ve heard a hellacious amount o’ shootin’ behind us, but James has got one o’ them suppressors on his rifle, like yours,” he pointed. “So I figure it’s gotta be them that’s following.”

  “How long since he left you?” Jesse asked.

  “At least three hours,” Tom guessed. “I’d guess we’ve covered maybe three miles in that time, tops. And that’s bein’ generous.”

  “You know where the school is?” Jesse asked. Tom nodded.

  “I have to go find James,” Jesse told him. “Keep going, best you can. I’m going to. . .hold on,” he ordered, and shook off his pack, removing the sat phone Roland had given him. He dialed the connection for the phone that Roland had placed in the radio room, waiting for the call to connect.

  “Mackey,” he heard after about two minutes.

  “Just the man I needed to talk to,” Jesse said. “I’m about five miles due east of the school, parked along Wadel road. I got a man named Tom Mackey here, claims he knows ya.”

  “Uncle Tommy!” Mackey exclaimed. “Man, I been lookin’ for him for weeks!”

  “Well, here’s your chance to talk to him. Send a truck to give these folks a lift back to the school. Hold on,” he looked at Tom. “Your nephew is on the phone. Where’s a good place for him to meet up with you that ya’ll won’t miss each other.”

  “Ask him if he remembers Widow Mason’s farm,” Tom said.

  “I sure do,” Mackey replied, having heard the question. “Tell him I’ll be there in thirty minutes or so.”

  “Take them longer but he’s nodding,” Jesse replied. “I’m heading further in. James was dealing with some pursuers. I’m going to extract him.”

  “Roger that,” Mackey’s voice became crisp. “We’ll monitor. If you need assistance, Vaughan will be on deck.”

  “Thanks. Fuller, clear.” Jesse put the phone away, and shouldered his pack.

  “You know where you’re going, Mister Mackey,” Jesse said. “I’m going to look for James. Stay hid best you can, and your nephew’l be along.”

  “You boys have been a sure enough Godsend, Jesse,” Tom Mackey told him. “That James has got balls he needs a wheel barrow to cart around.”

  “That he does,” Jesse chuckled. “I better get movin’. You folks be careful.” With that Jesse started back the way the group had come.

  “Where are you going?” the older woman demanded. “Why aren’t you helping us?”

  “Already helped you,” Jesse told her, neve
r slowing. “Ride coming to meet you soon enough. Just follow Mister Mackey, he’s in charge.”

  “And what if we get attacked?” she demanded. “You should be protecting us!”

  “Dog eat dog world now, lady,” Jesse snorted. “I’m going to help my friend, who helped you. ‘Bout all the help you can count on today. Now, keep your teeth together and listen to Mister Mackey. He knows where you’re going.”

  He ignored the woman’s jabbering after that, studying the ground in front of him. This bunch had left a trail a blind man could follow. Even someone who knew nothing about bushcraft could follow it. A thought came to his mind just then.

  Maybe he could use that.

  -

  James had limped, hopped and crawled his way to the stop of small rise about fifty yards on from where he’d bandaged his leg. He was very careful not to leave a trail, whether in blood stains or disturbed earth. The Lab had stayed with him the entire way, and James was starting to think of her as ‘his’. He wished he had something she could eat, since she looked hungry.

  Come to think of it, so was he.

  “Sorry, girl,” he whispered, giving her a brief hug. “I’m hungry too. Once we get clear of all this, I promise I’ll get ya something.” The dog wagged her tail licking his face in reply.

  Gotta think of a name for her, James decided. Her collar didn’t have tag, so whatever name she once had was lost forever.

  He found a good spot in a wallow left by a long ago uprooted tree, and used leaves and small branches to hide himself. He had left the dog several feet back, instructing her to ‘stay’, and she had done so. Whoever had owned her before the collapse had definitely trained her well.

  Nestling his rifle in his arm, James watched his back trail, working on a plan. The men following would know he was wounded. Thinking of that made him realize how much he was hurt, his leg throbbing in case he was to forget. Getting shot sucked, he decided.

  His focus was drawn to voices coming from the direction of his pursuers. His breathing a little rapid now, James settled lower to the ground, waiting.

  -

  Brick led the way, mostly because he didn’t really trust the rest to do it. He didn’t like being out front, not with the way this guy could shoot, but was comforted by the fact that he was injured and had lost a good bit of blood.

  That didn’t mean he was out, though. Brick had seen men wounded in Afghanistan and Iraq keep fighting with their back to the wall. The man they were following was tough and resourceful, and that meant you couldn’t count him out until you laid him out.

  He had six men, counting himself. Two of his original ten were dead, and two more wounded, once pretty serious. One man had remained to get the wounded back to the house where Doc could have a look-see. Six was probably enough to finish this, if he was cautious. And four men down made a man cautious all on its own.

  Brick stopped, examining the ground in front of him. There were still blood stains on the ground, so they were still on the trail. At first the man they were following hadn’t been concerned with leaving a sign behind, but as he’d gotten further along, he’d taken more precautions about disturbing the ground. Smart.

  But he couldn’t hide the blood. Or hadn’t. At least not yet. Brick found himself wondering if the man was even aware he’d been hit. Sometimes adrenaline would keep the pain at bay for a while. If he wasn’t, then he might just pass out from blood loss.

  Brick waved the rest forward as he followed the trail. Some of them made so much noise that he winced when they took a step, but there was no help for it. They just weren’t made for this kind of work.

  The others had spread out on either side of him, lagging a few steps behind to keep him in sight. Suddenly, one of them hissed at him, waving him over. Brick joined him in a small stand of scrub.

  “Looks like he patched himself up,” the man said, pointing to a blood-stained patch on the ground, and strip of Tee shirt. Brick nodded.

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” the leader said more to himself than anyone else. “And he’s got to be hurtin’,” he added. His thoughts turned to the man they were following. What would he do now, since getting away probably wouldn’t work...

  “Get down!” he yelled.

  Just too late.

  -

  James noted that the party was smaller, and suspected they had left at least one man with their wounded. His eyes narrowed at that. Maybe he could use that, too.

  He took aim at the most exposed member of the group, and lowered his scope to the man’s right leg. He squeezed the trigger gently, and was rewarded with the sight of the man grabbing his leg as he dropped his rifle, crying out as he crashed to the ground.

  “Get down!” he heard from his right, and swung his rifle that way. The blond man, again, the leader. Well, well, my old friend Ponytail, James thought. He snapped off a shot at the diving man, but had no idea if he’d hit him or not. He heard a yelp of surprise, though, so he must have been close.

  One of the men on the left showed himself to return fire, and James nailed him chest high, knocking the man back. Two down, he thought to himself. At least four left. At least four, he reminded himself again.

  “Stay under cover!” he heard Ponytail yell. Gauging where he thought the shout had come from, James placed two three-round bursts into the brush, again getting a yelp of surprise, but not able to see if he had struck a target.

  A man near the middle of the line took that chance to try and move to better cover, and James rattled off another pair of bursts at the running man. His target flinched once and seemed to favor his left leg as he went back into cover, but James didn’t count on that. He hadn’t seen it, so it didn’t count.

  James felt the need to move, but fought it down. He was in a good position and there was no sign that he’d been discovered yet. His mobility was hampered by his leg and he would certainly give away his position if he went staggering off. Suddenly, he smiled.

  He wouldn’t go staggering off. He’d crawl away. He’d stay here for a while, since by just staying here he was doing his job, buying time for the others. He’d shoot once in a while, letting them know he was still here, and then he’d just fade away. They might lay there fifteen minutes or longer, thinking he was still watching.

  Roland would like that, he thought to himself, ignoring the slight dizziness he felt at nodding his head.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  Jesse heard gunfire from up ahead and instantly stepped off the trail he was following into deeper brush. The gunfire wasn’t too close, but that didn’t mean enemies weren’t closer.

  The gunfire did mean that James was still taking it to his pursuers, however, Jesse grinned thinly.

  That boy is a pure caution, he thought to himself.

  He stepped back out onto the trail after a couple of minutes and continued on his way, angling toward the sound of the gunfire.

  -

  James had finally realized he was in trouble. He was lightheaded now, and felt weaker. If he stayed here much longer he feared he’d stay here forever.

  Snapping a fresh magazine into his rifle, he looked carefully through the scope at the places he had seen the men following him take cover. Anything that looked like a patch of color earned a three-round burst. Every time he fired he risked giving away his position, but he had to do something.

  Exhausting the new mag, he changed again quickly, and started backing out of his wallow. The effort made him light headed again, and his eyes swam.

  Not good, he thought. Not so good at all.

  He’d had no idea he was that weak. His great idea was turning into a colossal mistake, it seemed like. Yet, having started, there was no choice other than to finish.

  He reached the spot where he’d left the Lab, finding her waiting patiently despite the gunfire. He patted her head, which set her tail to wagging, and then started crawling toward the back of the rise he was on. He needed to get down unseen, and take off before that bunch realized he was gone.


  It was his only chance.

  -

  Brick hugged the ground, silently cursing. Twice they had walked right into an ambush. There was one guy out there, and he had taken down five of Brick’s men, dead or wounded. He still wasn’t sure about Clay, and didn’t dare yell across the distance to ask.

  Brick checked his watch. No firing for at least five minutes. Was the shooter conserving his ammo? Was he out? Had blood loss finally taken its toll? He had no way to answer any of those questions. Well, he had one way, but since it could end with a bullet in his head Brick was less than enthusiastic about that one.

  He decided to wait fifteen minutes. If there hadn’t been anymore firing after that, he was going to make a rush for the high ground. Even if the shooter wasn’t there, it might give him a small advantage if he could get there.

  If he could get there.

  -

  James was on his feet now, off the hill, but by now he was nearly dragging his leg behind him, and making enough noise to wake the dead. But he couldn’t see any other options. Not now. He had to get somewhere that he could make a real stand and have some chance of survival. He needed water for sure, having exhausted what little he’d had left earlier in the day.

  Some food wouldn’t hurt anything, either. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast the day before, and his stomach was letting him know it, too. His hunger probably wasn’t helping with the dizziness, either, which was getting worse all the time. His head was fairly spinning now, and it was all he could do to stay on his feet. He was reduced to hopping from tree to tree, using them to maintain his balance.

  The Lab stayed right with him, walking alongside him.

  If I don’t die, I really gotta think of a name for this dog, he thought numbly.

  -

  Brick looked at his watch one last time, took a deep breath, and got to his feet.

  “Follow me!” he yelled, and ran for the hill to his front. He didn’t bother looking behind him. They’d either follow, or they wouldn’t.