"These grenades will help," Kirby said, lifting her jacket. "I only have two left, but they can take down more than a few men. And they will disorient others."
"I know the best times to attack," Flora added. "The shifts change at dawn. The soldiers are split into night and day. If you can time an attack correctly, you can strike when the soldiers on the bridge are tired, but before the other men are awake and ready."
"Those are the same shift times I heard from the bridge commanders," Bray said, reinforcing Flora's honesty.
Enoch was becoming more convinced, but he still had doubt on his face. "I'm not saying that I agree to this plan. But whether we attack tomorrow, or next week, I have concerns. If I were to split my soldiers into three groups, I am concerned about the group approaching the bridge on the western side. The road leading to the islands is clear. They will see us coming. We have never had luck getting near that area without being attacked."
"There is a bend in the road just north of The Arches," Bray suggested. "Perhaps you can sneak the rest of the way through the woods once you reach it. The diversion will give you cover to get closer."
"I am still afraid they might see us," Enoch said. "And if they do, I am afraid that my first group of men will perish."
"Perhaps we need another diversion," Kirby said, thinking on it. "One that will allow you to sneak closer."
Seeing the look on her face, Bray said, "You look as if you have something in mind."
Kirby thought it over a moment before speaking, uncertain about the idea. "Deacon is expecting me to return the morning after next, as I told you. I assume his soldiers might be, too. They will be watching for two horses. I was to bring him some guns, and his men. Obviously, the men are dead. But it won't be a surprise to see me."
"So you will approach with two horses by yourself?" Bray shook his head, clearly not sold on the idea. "You will pretend to have his guns?"
"I won't get close enough for a conversation, but it will be a distraction," Kirby said. "I can handle myself once the battle starts. I will have grenades, and my gun." She looked down at her waist, then at Enoch. "And another long gun, if you allow me."
"I don't think that is a good idea," Bray argued. "You cannot go alone."
"Seeing anyone else on the horses will alarm them," Kirby said. "You are supposed to be dead, Bray. And Jonas is in no shape to travel. For all we know, he will die by morning. Perhaps I can even take a small group of men to assist me, in the cover of the woods. That will mean less risk of being seen."
The room went quiet. Kirby was surprised when Flora cleared her throat.
Sitting forward, she said, "They won't be expecting Bray, but they'll be expecting me. I can ride the second horse."
Kirby shook her head, as some of her earlier anger rekindled. "Are you that eager to preserve your own life that you would see your people slaughtered? Why would I trust you riding next to me?"
Flora looked as if she'd been struck. "This war will happen, whether I am in a grave or not. My hope is that if I am there, I can save some of the other islanders." Flora looked as if she was fighting tears. "My hope is that I can save my family. Deacon deserves death, for what he did to my real father, and what he has done to too many others. If he is going to die, I would like to be there to see it."
Flora looked away from all of them and studied a spot on the wall.
Kirby fell silent, feeling some pity she hadn't expected.
Enoch remained quiet, as well.
After a long pause, Bray said, "Deacon is preparing for this war. He was open about it, when we were there. He knows you are coming. Each day, his defenses will get stronger. I know you are concerned about your soldiers being inexperienced with the guns, but time might not be something you have."
"And you only have a certain amount of ammunition," Kirby finished. "Each round you waste is one less you will have for the island soldiers."
Seeing the look of confusion on Enoch's face, Bray clarified, "The metal that goes in the guns."
Enoch nodded. "I understand."
"There is the river, too," Flora said. "If we get some rain soon, that might ruin your chances of crossing the river at its low point."
Kirby said, "I can teach your men some basic skills with the guns that might help you fight. But if we are going to fight alongside you, I would ask that we leave soon. William is trapped on that island. He might only have a few nights, if we don't return. The diversion I am proposing will only work if we enact the plan soon."
Enoch looked between them. "I am not certain I can commit to this plan. I will need time to think on it."
Chapter 50: Bray
Bray and Kirby sat on the wooden bed, staring at the bare, cracked walls of the room in which Bray had slept. Two fresh cups of herbal tea sat on the table, along with some dinner that the Halifax women had brought—a plate of some dried, unrecognizable meat, and some bread.
"You should try some of the tea," Bray said, trying to distract from an obviously tense situation. "It's not bad."
Kirby reached for some dried meat instead, chewing a hunk as she stared through the crack in the doorway. "It does not sound like Enoch is going to help us," she said.
Bray shook his head. Despite encouraging Kirby to eat and drink, he was unable to do more than look at the food.
Kirby's eyes wandered to several children running past the doorway with high-pitched, happy squeals. "If we do not hear from him soon, we might have to make a decision. Do you think he will give us more weapons?"
"He has been generous, and he knows they are your people's weapons. I believe he will help us," Bray said. "Beyond that, I think we will be on our own."
Kirby sighed audibly. "Even if we were to get weapons, we do not have much chance at getting William back. I do not know where he is. Deacon has him hidden."
"You know the layout of the second island better than I do," Bray said. "Do you have any ideas on where he might be?"
"I have been in both buildings. They have many rooms. It would take effort to find him, though I am not convinced he is even there. Deacon took him away on a horse. For all I know, he might be on the first island, or somewhere we haven't seen. Or dead."
Bray clenched his fists. "Going in there might as well be suicide. We'll never make it out."
Kirby's face was solemn.
Bray looked at Kirby with an intensity that showed he was preparing for the worst of answers, as he asked another question. "Do you think he's still alive?"
"I do not know," Kirby said simply. "I want to believe…"
Bray lowered his head. He stared at the ground, moving some dirt on the floor around with his boots. Kirby set her meat back on the tray. Neither of them reached for any more food or drink.
"This is my fault," Bray said.
Kirby looked at him, surprised to hear those words coming from his mouth. "It is not."
"I asked to go to the settlement," Bray said, shaking his head. "I brought him to his death."
"You did not know things would turn out this way," Kirby said. "We made the decision together. William was sick. We did what most people might have done, when faced with that choice." Kirby looked as if she was trying to convince herself.
"And now he will die regardless." Bray cracked open the door, watching a mother walk past, a baby on each hip. A group of soldiers with guns slung around their shoulders looked at Bray and kept walking.
"He is resourceful," Kirby said, trying to offer some hope. "You have taught him well. If he is alive, perhaps he will make it."
Bray shook his head. "Not in a place like that. Even I'm not foolish enough to believe that. The numbers are too great." He shook his head, wanting to release some of the built-up anger. Anything was better than feeling grief.
He had made a promise, and he had failed.
If Enoch would not help them, all was lost.
Chapter 51: Enoch
Enoch rose from his chair. He was tired of sitting, and he was tired of thinking. Bray, Kirby,
and Flora had raised some good points. But none of those would guarantee a victory. He walked underneath some of the dangling trinkets on the ceiling—beads and pieces of glass that commemorated the lost people of Halifax—trying to recall the faces of the lost people they represented. But there were too many.
The islanders had killed more than their share of his people.
He had promised his people vengeance. But would he give them death instead?
Reaching up, he twirled one of the dangling trinkets in his hand, staring at the small, round beads. He envisioned one of the Halifax women constructing the piece, hoping her relative would reach The Holy One. It was a gesture he wanted to believe. He thought back to the rousing speech he had given his people, as they used the weapons on the platform.
We will overcome our enemies.
He believed what he said.
But he wasn't willing to rush a decision that would lead to death.
It was so easy to imagine victory when he was inspiring his people from the platform, but it was a different thing to watch his men fall in the wild, underneath an enemy's sword or bow, or later, listen to the cries of widows and children as they grieved their loved ones. He bore a responsibility for each of those deaths that most people would never see, a responsibility that weighed on him each night he lay down to sleep.
Enoch pondered that as he walked to the entrance. Several soldiers were waiting outside to deliver a message to him. He opened the door and listened.
"The man named Jonas is awake again," one of the men reported in their language.
Enoch nodded. Jonas didn't have much time left. Perhaps he'd get something out of him before he died. Walking past the soldiers, he made his way across the platform, listening to the songs of the women, the playful cries of children, and the hard voices of his soldiers.
His people.
**
Enoch stood at Jonas's bedside, watching him suck breaths past his bloodied lips. Jonas's eyes were glossy as he surveyed Enoch, his hands covering his bandaged stomach. The women had stopped the bleeding. They'd given him herbs, and drink to numb the pain. But Enoch knew the injuries were severe. His people had never tended wounds from the lightning weapons called guns before. Kirby had given them some advice, but it hadn't helped.
Jonas was dying.
Blinking through a stab of agony, Jonas watched Enoch. "I can see the gods," he whispered.
They were the first words he'd spoken, since they'd brought him in, other than spitting and cursing.
"You will meet The Holy One soon," Enoch said, a solemn expression on his face.
Jonas gasped, looking as if he was trying to figure something out. "I will learn the gods' secrets. They will tell me everything, when I join them."
"Perhaps," Enoch said, not wanting to crush the man's hope. He wasn't cruel enough to deny a man his dying dreams.
Jonas opened and closed his hands on something. Frowning, Enoch looked down, noticing a small, metallic object in his grasp that he hadn't noticed Jonas holding. He bent down to get a look at it.
Seeing his curiosity, Jonas smiled through his pain. "A gift from the gods."
"What is it?" Enoch asked, as Jonas opened his hands, revealing the object.
Enoch stared at the round, metallic device, which had strange symbols carved on its face. It looked different than most of the things his people had pulled from the rubble in the forest.
Jonas labored through a raspy cough. "A piece from the gods," he said quietly. "I believe it marks the passing of a day."
"I don't believe I've seen an object like that."
"It will lead me to the gods," Jonas said with a curious smile. "They gave it to me to usher me to the heavens."
Enoch nodded, but he had other things to discuss. "I came for information. I am hoping you will help me, so that you will meet your gods with a clean heart."
"I am not the only one with questions." Jonas's smile remained on his face as he weakly nodded.
"Several weeks ago, a group of my men were on a hunt. They encountered a group of your soldiers, who attacked them. A few of my men survived, but the rest were dragged away. Our widows would like to know if any of their bodies are in the forest. If they were taken to the island, I am hoping you will be honest so we can stop searching. If they are in the forest, we would like to give them a ceremony and burn them."
Jonas coughed again, holding his stomach. When he was through with his fit, he refocused. "You want the bodies back."
"Yes." Enoch watched and waited.
Jonas looked at the object in his hands, turning it slowly. "That is why you are keeping me alive."
"My hope is for more information," Enoch said. "But it is a start. I have promised my women I would ask. If it is possible, they will search for the bodies in the forest, and bring back whom they can."
"And then I can die?" Jonas's lips curved into a half-smile.
"Yes," Enoch promised. A compromise might be worth it. He would end this man's pain, if it meant some closure for his people.
Jonas stared at Enoch as his smile faded. Seeming to find a burst of strength, he spoke in a fast whisper that grew stronger the more he talked. "Those bodies are in so many pieces that you will never find them. The men were taken to our island, where we stripped them of their fingers, their toes, their teeth, and in the end, their tongues." Jonas laughed as his eyes lit up. "We listened as they screamed for their women, and their children. We laughed as they bled. And we made sure their deaths were as slow as any man."
Rage built in Enoch as he listened to the man's vile words. "You will suffer a worse death."
Ignoring him, Jonas continued, "They died under the metal hands of the gods. They died so that our people can live. Tell your widows if they want the bodies, they can look in the bellies of the fish in the river."
Enoch's eyes flared as he clenched his fists. He wanted to pound this man's skull until it caved. He wanted to do what Jonas had done to his men. The things Jonas had described were another weight he would carry, whenever he closed his eyes.
He would do none of that.
Reaching down, Enoch snatched the metal object from Jonas's grasp, holding it high in the air as Jonas gasped and reached for it with weak, shaking hands. He sat up, crying out at the severity of the pain in his stomach as he tried to retrieve it.
Enoch smashed the object on the floor, stomping it into pieces, grinding it into the floor with his boots. He continued stomping, until the object was an unrecognizable pile of metal beneath him.
"Kill me!" Jonas cried, clenching his teeth through the pain. "You promised!"
"No," Enoch growled. "You will suffer and die on your own. You will never meet the gods. Your death will be as meaningless as you are."
Jonas looked at him with a pale, horrified expression as Enoch stormed from the room.
Chapter 52: Bray
After forcing himself to eat, Bray stood, looking out the door at the people walking the Halifax camp. He looked over at Kirby, who wore a grim expression. Neither of them had spoken in several minutes. They were up against a problem with no good outcome. He might as well have died in the river, for all the good he'd do William now. And Kirby had survived encounters nearly as terrible, only to suffer the same loss.
He was surprised when Samron and a few others strode with a look of importance toward his door.
Turning over his shoulder, he told Kirby, "Someone's coming."
Samron approached Bray and stopped, a smile spreading across his face. "Enoch has requested your presence. He said you should come right away. We are going to fight the people of The Arches. We will march out tomorrow afternoon."
Bray opened and closed his mouth, robbed of a response.
Samron clarified, as if Bray might not have heard. "We are going to war."
Chapter 53: Bray
Bray, Kirby, and Flora stood near Enoch's house while Enoch paced nearby, addressing a group of soldiers. He waved his hands as he expressed something in his lang
uage, discussing the plans they'd solidified. Every so often, he glanced at Bray, Kirby, and Flora.
The people in the settlement broke from their chores, staring. More soldiers came to join Enoch in the corner. Even the children held their sticks and rocks in the air, quitting from their evening games as they waited for some announcement that everyone knew was coming.
Bray looked at his waist, staring at the pistol in the holster that Enoch had given him. On the other side, he had a new sword and scabbard, as well as the knife they'd taken from Flora—his knife—that they'd returned to him.
Catching him staring at the gun, Kirby said, "You finally have your Tech Magic." She smiled, slightly amused.
"You'll need to show me how to shoot it," he said.
"As I said, I will show you in the forest. But you will probably want to keep your sword, as well."
"I wouldn't be without it," Bray said.
He looked over at Flora, who was watching him with a pensive expression. The men had untied her hands, but they'd left her weaponless, for now. Bray wasn't sure if that would change, but it was surely better than the treatment she'd received before.
Looking over at Enoch's group of soldiers, Bray saw Samron leaving the group and coming to join him.
"The Holy One blesses our battle," Samron said, when he was close to Bray.
"I hope so," Bray returned.
His attention was distracted as three more marked soldiers walked from the opposite side of the platform, hurrying toward Enoch. They spoke in fast, nervous tones. Enoch's face became troubled, as he looked from the soldiers to a group of women who had gathered in a cluster across the platform. Tear-streaks stained their faces. They wrung their hands, chatting angrily amongst themselves. For a moment, Bray thought they held a grudge against him, Kirby, or Flora, but their attention was clearly on Enoch.
"What is going on?" Bray asked Samron.
"The women are upset," he answered simply.
"They are worried about losing their people in battle," Bray surmised.
"That is not the only thing that troubles them," Samron said. "Those women are widows. They lost their men to the people of the islands."
The Ruins Book 2: A Dystopian Society in a Post-Apocalyptic World (The Ruins Series) Page 18