This We Will Defend

by C. A. Rudolph

  “Were you in the truck?”

  “Yes. I was,” the girl said cautiously.

  “Then you were with them…and it’s guilt by association, I’m afraid,” Grace stipulated. “No hard feelings—just come on out and we can handle this.”

  Grace didn’t mean any of the things she was saying, but she desperately needed the girl to believe that this was for real, and the tone of Grace’s voice followed suit.

  The girl suddenly and unexpectedly jumped out from behind the tree. She held both of her hands out, palms open to show that she didn’t have a weapon. Grace still pointed her rifle at her.

  “That’s it…keep your hands where we can see them,” Grace said softly. “If me or my partner behind me sees you make a move for a weapon, we will shoot you. Do you understand that?”

  The façade that the girl was using to pretend that she was resilient had vanished. Several tears began rolling down her cheeks, as having two guns aimed at her began to hit her harder than any reality had insofar. Grace could sense the girl’s affliction, and if anything, guessed she was a casualty of whatever situation she’d gotten herself caught up in. She definitely wasn’t the enemy.

  “I was lying in the back of the truck,” the girl began, “under that guy’s boot.” She pointed at the man that Christian had shot in the face.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “His boot…was on my head. I was in the truck, but I wasn’t there because I wanted to be,” the girl said flatly.

  “So what you said before…”

  “Was a lie,” the girl finished.

  “So they’re not your family, then?”

  The girl gestured nervously. “N-no. They are definitely not my family.”

  Grace smiled. “I didn’t think so,” she said. “No weapons?”

  “No,” the girl said.

  “You’re certain?” Grace began. “My friend behind me will shoot you if he sees one.”

  “I don’t have any weapons,” the girl said as her body concurred her negative response. “If I did, I would’ve killed those men days ago.”

  Grace lowered her rifle and approached the girl. “What’s your name?”

  The girl hesitated as more tears began rolling down her dirty cheeks. “Alex,” she muttered.

  Grace waved for Christian to lower his rifle, but he refused her advice. Alex quivered before her, and it was difficult to tell if she was sick, cold, or in shock. Grace guessed all of the above were possible.

  Alex was wearing a thin polo shirt and a pair of well-worn hiking pants. She had on a torn down vest that was leaking feathers and had lost more than half its loft. She was taller, but much younger than Grace, at least by a decade, and she looked as if she hadn’t showered in months.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t get hurt after getting thrown from that truck,” Grace said.

  Alex smirked.

  “Are you cold?” asked Grace. “Hungry?”

  Alex nodded her response, but still said nothing.

  Grace slung her rifle over her shoulder and reached for the girl’s hand. After a moment of hesitation, Alex offered it to Grace and she took it.

  “Come with me,” Grace said warmly. “I have some friends for you to meet. We’ll get you warmed up and get you something to eat. You’ll be safe with us. I promise.”

  Alex nodded, her stare not leaving the ground just in front of her feet. Grace led the way back to where Christian was standing. He’d finally lowered his rifle, but it never left a ready position. He remained on constant alert.

  “Were you abducted?” Grace asked. “Did they take you from your family?”

  “A few days ago…I can’t remember, honestly.”

  Grace hesitated before asking her next question. “Did they hurt you?”

  Alex shook her head in the negative, and Grace felt relief wash over her. In this lawless new world, incidents of the worst kinds of abuse had become commonplace. She was glad to know that this young girl had been lucky enough not to experience such things.

  “They kept me locked up mostly,” Alex said. “At first in a cage—like a crate used for dogs. Then they moved me into a room with some other girls.”

  “How did you end up here?” Grace asked.

  “They just came and got me,” said Alex. “They said that we were going for a ride.”

  Grace nodded. “And you said…they have others?”

  “A few. Not many.”

  When they reached Christian, he scowled at Grace. “Nice job,” he said. “You’re quite the actress, aren’t you?”

  Grace smiled. “At one time, I was one of the best.”

  Grace then introduced him to Alex. Christian offered his hand, but Alex pulled away reticently and he withdrew the gesture. He could sense she’d somehow been traumatized and didn’t want to add to it.

  Grace walked off with Alex by her side and headed back down the road to where the others still were. Christian took one last look at the scene around him and followed them. They met up where the others had gathered at the wrecked Polaris, where Fred was now engineering ideas on how to pull it back onto its wheels.

  When Michelle noticed the unfamiliar face walking alongside Grace, she asked, “Who’s this?” with a welcoming smile.

  Grace introduced Alex to the group and introduced everyone to Alex by name. Alex tried to smile but remained mostly despondent.

  “Alex was with the men in the other truck. She was abducted a few days ago,” Grace explained.

  Michelle gave Alex a look of concern. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you live around here, Alex?”

  Alex nodded and pointed off into the woods as if to indicate the direction where she lived. “Near Thorny Bottom.”

  An unknowing look crept across Michelle’s face.

  “It’s a hollow a few miles west of here,” Fred inserted, overhearing the conversation as he continued to curse the Polaris. “It’s also an area we haven’t established as secure yet. Like this one.”

  “Sounds like we’re neighbors,” said Grace.

  Alex nodded to Grace as a puzzled look fell over her. “What does he mean by—”

  “We have a lot going on right now, Alex,” Michelle cut in. “Things are…a little complicated. I can explain it all to you after we get back. I promise we’ll get you home the first chance we get.”

  After a bit of effort and using some fallen timber for leverage, Fred and Christian managed to upright the Polaris. Megan stared helplessly at it with her hands on her head, gazing at the bullet-hole-riddled fairings and damage.

  “It’s ruined,” Megan grieved.

  Christian hopped into the driver’s side and turned the ignition, and the UTV’s engine cranked to life. He pressed hard on the accelerator a couple of times. “Takes a licking and keeps on ticking.”

  Fred kicked at the left front wheel, the camber angle of which seemed a few degrees out of whack. “It’s going to need a little work,” he said, and then turned his attention to Lauren and his daughter. “Wish I knew what was so important that made you two want to come up here.”

  Megan began explaining her reasoning while Fred only half-listened to her. Lauren filled in the blanks as needed, but it was obvious that he’d already heard all he intended to hear.

  “Regardless…the two of you had no business investigating this on your own,” Fred said. “It’s valuable information and we’ll deal with it when the time comes. For now, that’s all I’m going to say about it.”

  Christian stepped out and Fred hopped into the Polaris and drove off with it limping. He motioned to Megan and pointed to the other ATV he’d brought along with him.

  “Guess that’s my cue,” said Megan. She turned to Lauren and hugged her tightly. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For doing what you did,” Megan said.

  “You were a big part of it,” said Lauren humbly.

  “No. That was all you,” Megan admitted. “What you did today was amazing.” She paused and smiled. “Thank
s for going with me. No more dangerous expeditions for this girl.”

  Lauren nodded, but knew all too well Megan didn’t mean it.

  “Hey, Meg.”

  “Yeah?”

  “If you ask him nicely, maybe you can get Anton to fix the Polaris for you,” Lauren said, smirking, referring to Megan’s chosen epithet for Junior Brady.

  Megan nodded and beamed happily at Lauren’s joke. As they watched Fred and Megan pull away, Lauren trailed her mother, Grace, and their new refugee friend Alex to where the Hondas were parked as Christian brought up the rear.

  “Looks like we’re one heavy,” Lauren said.

  “We wouldn’t be if you didn’t blow up all the other vehicles,” Christian jeered.

  Lauren held up a single finger in his face. “I only blew up one of them.”

  “I can take Alex with me,” Michelle offered, “if you three don’t mind riding together.”

  Christian shrugged. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

  “I’ll drive,” Grace said, pushing herself around him. “You two can ride bitch on the back.”

  Grace started the engine on the Honda as Lauren and Christian jumped on the rear rack, and soon began pulling away. It wasn’t long before they were surrounded by forest again, meandering slowly down the logging road, headed for home.

  Christian nudged Lauren with his shoulder. “I’m proud of you.”

  “Proud of me? For what?”

  “For what you did back there. Pretty amazing stuff.”

  Lauren shook her head. “I don’t see it that way, Christian,” she said. “That wasn’t exactly fun for me.”

  “I know it wasn’t. It’s nasty business. But you survived,” Christian said. “I don’t know where you learned to do the things you’re doing…but it’s impressing the hell out of me. What you did back there was deliberate and primal and…necessary. The odds were against you guys…but you overcame them and won.” He paused as the motion of the ATV on the forest road caused them both to sway side to side. “It’s nice to know that you can handle yourself…even when someone else isn’t around to watch your back. So yeah…I’m proud of you.”

  Lauren nodded, her face emotionless. “I get it, Christian.”

  Christian smiled, put his hand on the back of Lauren’s neck and touched the side of his head gently to hers. “I knew you were a warrior.”

  Chapter 14

  “Life is an end in itself, and the only question as to whether it is worth living is whether you have had enough of it.”

  —Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.

  Town of Edinburg

  Shenandoah County, Virginia

  Saturday, October 16th (Present day)

  The young girl wailed and her body tensed each time the wet washcloth touched her skin. Sasha Ledo was doing her best to clean the girl’s wounds with what little supplies she had in her possession. She spoke calmly to her and tried with everything to be gentle, but the young girl was terrified, in a state of shock, and Sasha’s efforts just didn’t bear fruit. The girl’s wounds contained a plethora of dirt and foreign debris that had to be removed before infection could set in. If the wounds were to become infected now, with no access to antibiotics and medical care, they would almost certainly become fatal. Sasha knew this, having seen it happen before, and the last thing she wanted was for this girl’s final memories to be the ones she’d most recently endured.

  Sasha wasn’t a nurse, but she’d managed to acquire a comparable skillset. Her skills had developed alongside her experience—experience that had been generously provided to her by members of the Marauders MC brotherhood. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to provide aid to one of the young women that Damien and his minions had selected as objects to abuse. And since there seemed to be no limits whatsoever to their drunken, spiteful, sexually-driven aggressiveness, she regretfully knew that it wouldn’t be the last.

  Acting as a nurse and sometimes even a counselor had become an all-too-familiar occurrence lately and Sasha was beginning to detest it. She’d become well acquainted with this type of depravity over the years and her tolerance level was nearing its redline. She’d been unlucky enough herself to be inaugurated into the MC at the age of thirteen. A product of human trafficking, Sasha had been a black-market purchase when one of the club’s elder couples had decided they wanted a young girl to raise. Her adoption had been illegitimate, and her adolescent years had been horrific. In exchange for her loyalty and compliance, she’d been provided with a lifetime supply of powerful, often deranged men to provide for her and protect her. The provisions and fortifications they furnished had a cost attached to them—one that could only be paid for in flesh or in blood.

  Later on in her life, Sasha had become a romantic interest of the Marauders’ sergeant-at-arms. She had semi-reluctantly fallen for him in return, and a few years later had exchanged vows with him, officially becoming what was referred to as his ‘property’. She had done so willingly, with neither recourse nor reservation, just as her vows dictated. Sasha held within her a multitude of love for Danny, and that was enough for her. It just turned out that it wasn’t enough to save her. Within the Marauders MC, if a higher-ranking club officer wanted an encore performance, he got it as often as he wanted it. It was just the way things were. Within the confines of the MC, even a patched member’s ‘old lady’ was considered fair game on occasion.

  Sasha’s calm and maternal tone of voice was barely enough to put the young girl at ease. The girl had been absolutely hysterical in intervals. As much as she tried to recall the date of the girl’s abduction, Sasha couldn’t remember—and it was getting hard to tell the girls apart now, after seeing so many of them. She tried asking, but the girl wouldn’t answer. She knew that it’d happened in one of the towns that the Marauders had terrorized before locating themselves here—but that was an elongated list, very difficult to narrow down. The girl had been removed as a trophy from the family that loved her…one of the many spoils of war.

  The bedroom door opened behind her. Sasha turned around to see her husband, Danny, walk into the room. His hands in his pockets, Danny gestured uncaringly to the girl, using little more than his head to do so.

  “Is she okay?”

  Danny’s overly masculine voice startled the young girl and she began to wail. In turn, Sasha spent a few seconds consoling her before answering.

  “No,” Sasha said firmly. “No—Danny. She’s not okay.”

  Danny looked around the room before responding. He flicked a lighter to life and ignited a cigarette he’d placed between his lips. “Guess the boys did a number on her. Is she going to live?”

  “I’m not a doctor,” Sasha hissed. “All I can do is keep her wounds clean. I hope she recovers—but I don’t know. It’s not like she’ll have any sort of life if she does.”

  “Well, we all appreciate you,” Danny said, blowing a puff of smoke into the air. “You always do a great job for us.”

  “How kind of you to say that, husband. Thank you.”

  She paused and her stare found its way to Danny’s glassy eyes. His inebriation was as obvious to her as it had always been. “You’re drunk again.”

  Danny burped, and smoke rolled out of his nostrils. “Maybe.”

  Sasha looked down at the injured girl, looked back to her husband and sighed. “You know, Danny, I’m getting really tired of this shit.”

  Danny’s face twisted. “Do…what?”

  “This is getting old,” Sasha reiterated. “It’s become a daily thing now. How many more times is this shit going to happen? When does it end?”

  “When does what end? Me getting drunk?”

  “No, idiot!” Sasha snapped, and then pointed to the girl. “This! When does this end?”

  “It happens as many times as it needs to,” Danny slurred. “It ends when it needs to end. Don’t ask stupid questions, Sasha. Remember your place.”

  Sasha squinted her eyes at her husband. “I don’t think they’re stupid questions. I th
ink they’re important questions. And I think they deserve answers. I don’t think dodging them does any of us any good.” She paused, expecting some sort of backlash from Danny. “When is enough going to be enough?”

  “Sasha, if you don’t want to do this anymore, just say the word,” Danny said indifferently. “You’re not the only person we can find to do nurse stuff. We can get someone else to clean up the blood. And we can also come up with ways for you to spend your time.” He paused and grabbed at his crotch. “I can think of a couple of ways right now.”

  “Goddammit,” Sasha responded. “Do you always have to be an asshole?”

  Danny approached her closely and grabbed a handful of the blond-streaked hair on the back of her head. “What’s your problem today? Are you on your period or something? You’re being a real bitch.”

  Sasha struggled with Danny and fought back at him, managing after a moment to pull his hand off her hair. She had to admit, part of her still liked the pain. She was no stranger to the sadomasochistic lifestyle and had been a fan of it earlier on in their relationship. She bowed her head submissively to Danny and placed her forehead on his chest, hoping it would calm his temper.

  “I’m sorry,” Sasha relented. “I am, actually…and it’s driving me a little crazy.” She knew her words were lies as they moved past her lips.

  “Well, shit. I’m sorry, baby,” Danny conceded. “I know they’re rough on you.” He paused. “I forgive you.”

  “Thanks, baby.”

  Sasha smiled and presented a content disposition, but inside, she was raging. She really was tired of all this shit. She was tired of seeing innocent people being abused and having their lives destroyed. She was tired of Damien and all his bullshit…and she was especially tired of seeing the love of her life follow a lunatic into the proverbial depths of hell. She’d do something about it if she wasn’t so powerless. If she had Danny on her side, there might be something she could do. He was torn between her and Damien, and Sasha knew that if given an ultimatum, Danny wouldn’t choose her. Still, she wasn’t ready to give up on him yet.