The rest of the men rode up taking their shots at the beast. After the first minute several arrows were sticking out of its hide. Buck felt bad for the buffalo now going through a long fight because he missed his mark. He followed behind the men and notched another arrow. He rode past the men and came alongside the buffalo. He spotted his first arrow and aimed again. Releasing, he watched as the arrow hit its mark. The buffalo dropped, its front legs giving out and falling head first into the ground. Buck slowed his horse and turned around to see the buffalo no longer moving.
“Show off!” Sam hollered as he rode up. “Are you ever going to let us kill one?”
“Learn how to shoot and it might happen one day.” Buck replied.
A few miles back on the hill Buck could see the wagon moving in their direction. He looked down at the animal, hundreds of pounds of meat now needed to be quartered and driven home for butchering.
Lining the wagon with plastic, the group started their individual tasks. Buck gutted the buffalo and pulled out the entrails and organs. Keeping the liver and heart he started skinning the hide off when the women took over. The men began quartering the beast and lifting the sections into the wagon.
The job was messy. There was no clean way of butchering a thousand pound animal. Some of the men felt like natives, enjoying the blood on their arms and clothes. In an hour the animal was loaded up and they were on their way back to home.
They rode through the streets and tried to hurry back so the meat didn’t go bad. They were still a few miles away when Buck stopped his horse.
“What is it?” Sam asked riding up next to him.
“Something doesn’t feel right.”
As the words escaped from his mouth a loud crack traveled through the air and Sam exhaled like he had been punched in the chest. He looked down and saw the hole in his shirt. Blood quickly expanded through the fabric.
“No!” Buck yelled. He grabbed the reign and rode himself and Sam back to the rest of the group.
As they reached the group Sam fell off his horse and Buck leaped off, running over to his friend.
The lifeless expression on Sam’s face told Buck he was dead.
“What happened?” one of the men asked. The others pulled arrows out of their quivers and notched them.
“Someone is up ahead. They shot Sam.” Buck said holding his friend in his arms.
“Any idea where?” one of the other men asked.
“It doesn’t matter, they’ll be dead soon enough.” Bill said kicking his horse into gear and riding up the street. The rest of the men followed and they dismounted behind a building. Two men went up the fire escape and climbed onto the roof. The rest of the men split into two groups going in separate directions. The women held themselves together long enough to help Buck move Sam to the back of the wagon. Buck still looked for any sign of life in hopes that his friend wasn’t really dead.
Gun shots could be heard down the street. First it was one or two guns then several. After a few minutes it was gone and the men were walking back to the wagon. Pushed in front was a man, black uniform, SWAT style vest and clean shaven unlike the members of the tribe.
Bill pushed the man to the ground. Buck hadn’t noticed the arrow sticking out of the man’s thigh.
The man hollered as his knees hit the ground and the flesh in his thigh moved.
“Who are you?” Buck asked.
“Brian Webster, United States Navy, USS Nemo.” the man replied.
“Who killed my friend, Brian?” Buck asked.
“We thought he was a hostile.”
“What would give you the impression we were hostile? We didn’t even know you were out there.”
“Have you seen what you look like? You guys are cannibals right?”
“What the hell did he just say?” one of the women asked.
“You killed my friend, he was a good man. Children at home and now he’s not coming home because you assholes thought we were a couple of CANNIBALS!”
“I’m sorry, we had no idea what to expect when we came back.”
“Where is your ship?” Buck asked.
“My name is Brian Webster, United States Navy.”
“Where is your ship?” Buck asked again placing his foot on the arrow in Brian’s thigh.
He screamed out trying to move away from the pressure.
“Your ship?” Buck asked again.
“My name is Brian Webster…”
“We know that already,” Bill said stepping in.
“The only place a ship could be would be the river.” Buck said. “And if that’s true then we don’t need him.”
One of the women pulled a knife out of its sheath and walked up to the navy man.
“I think you guys have had enough action for one day.” she said walking up and cutting the man’s throat. The group started walking away before he was finished bleeding out. The women made a point to drive the wagon over his body as they passed.
“The one time we finally meet somebody that should be helping us and they try to kill us.” Buck said to himself.
“Sounds about right,” Bill said. “Remember Katrina?”
“Who wants to go fishing?” Buck said as they rode back home. They were careful to keep their eyes open for anything out of the norm. They made it back home without running into any other navy men. The tribe was in an uproar about Sam. Everyone had liked the guy. When Buck entered the house Carol knew something was wrong.
“What happened?” she asked as he passed by and went straight to the hunting supplies.
“Sam is dead.” Buck said.
He grabbed a full quiver of arrows and his favorite long bow. Carol started crying, shaking her head to the news.
“Where are you going?” she asked as he walked to the door.
“Going hunting.”
She could tell by the look in his eyes that someone was going to pay. She knew then it wasn’t a hunting accident but murder instead.
The rest of the men quickly gathered together and had the supplies they needed.
They road to the Mississippi and dismounted a few hundred yards away to approach on foot. Buck looked along the bank and instantly spotted the tower of the sub at the dock. A group of men were sitting on the deck fishing. It was the same spot Sam and he usually fished, not anymore. Buck motioned with hand signals where he wanted the other men to go. They moved into position and waited for Buck’s command.
Buck watched the men on the submarine for a few minutes and picked the one that was the most distracted in the group. He was a younger guy sitting on the side with a fishing rod. Fair trade for Sam.
Buck notched an arrow and pulled the string back. He aimed and fired.
The arrow silently traveled through the air. The realization that the man was hit was delayed. No sound and the man couldn’t talk. Buck already had another arrow notched. He pulled back and aimed at the same man who was now gripping the arrow looking down at it. He fired again and the second arrow hit its mark. More arrows were flying through the air at the sub and the men rushed to the ladder of the sub. They scurried up to the hatch and rushed inside. An arrow struck a man in the leg and another in the back. The first man that was hit sat on the side of the sub. As the men continued into the sub Buck stepped out from behind the tall grass he hid behind and walked towards the sub. Some of the other men rushed forward firing arrows.
The last man went in the sub and closed the hatch. Buck walked up the dock and onto the sub. He pushed the dead seaman’s body into the water and climbed the ladder. He tried to open the hatch and began pounding on the steel. It was pointless but he wanted to instill fear in the men that killed his friend.
“Buck, we won’t be able to get in there.” Bill hollered up the tower.
“I’m not through with them yet.” Buck yelled back. The submarine jolted and came to life.
“Hey Buck, I think we should go.” Bill said.
A hatch opened on the deck of the sub. One of the men walked over to it tryin
g to look inside. He jumped back and ran along the sub away from the hatch.
“Get back, get back.” the man yelled. A rumbling grew in the sub and a missile escaped from the hatch straight into the air. The white cloud and flames engulfed the surface of the submarine. Buck jumped off the tower into the river. Bill did the same almost jumping onto the dead seaman’s floating body. Buck and Bill swam to shore. Their clothes heavy and the blood from the buffalo washed off.
“They didn’t fire that rocket to get us away.” Buck said.
“So, what do you think is happening?” Bill asked.
“I don’t know. But I’m going to wait this out. Get the rest of the men home. Tell Carol I’ll be back.”
“Nothing else?” Bill asked.
“I’m not planning on dying.” Buck said.
He stripped his clothes off to dry on the shore. He watched the sub and about an hour later another missile fired. The pattern continued all evening. Buck waited and didn’t let the submarine out of his sight.
In the middle of the night the propellers came to life and the sub started backing into the river. Buck was quick to his feet and put his damp clothes on. He watched the sub turn up river and slowly move ahead. He followed on foot and heard people moving on the submarine. He could see the outline of figures on the deck and tried to take a shot. The arrow hit the hull and he heard the dinging sound against the metal.
A flash and shot rang out from the tower. Buck continued to follow and tried another shot. The arrow passed one of the men. He was getting frustrated, missing was not in his nature. More shots rang out from the tower and they were close to his feet. Buck would not give up.
The men were rushing back to the tower and Buck aimed. He missed again and the tower returned fire. Buck felt a smack against his leg and fell to the ground. The hatch closed and the sub traveled quickly north. Buck watched the submarine until he could no longer see it. The sun was coming up and he looked down at his leg. He cut the side of his pants open with his knife and looked at the wound. The bullet went straight through and exited a few inches out of his hamstring. Buck tore some fabric off his shirt and covered the entry and exit holes. His bleeding wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be and tied the small scraps of fabric to hold them in place. He used his bow as a cane and walked back to the street. He had a few miles before he would be home but the trip might be what he needed. He didn’t feel as angry as he did before. With the sub gone he felt that the tribe was safe again. Buck’s horse was gone, taken back with the other men.
A few hours later he was limping home. He was greeted by his neighbors and Carol came running out of the house.
“What happened to you?” she said hugging him.
“I’ve been shot but I don’t think it’s bad.” Buck said holding her with his free hand.
“Are they going to come back?” she asked, the rest of the group listening.
“No. I think they’re gone.” he said. “We’re safe now.”
Buck asked to be updated with the food situation while his leg was looked at. Everyone had their smokers working drying out the buffalo meat. The hide was being stretched out and worked by some of the women for leather. The usual feast of stew and steaks was the night before. The men had come home to a large meal and they needed it forgetting to eat with everything that was happening.
Buck’s leg healed in a few weeks. He never walked the same afterwards. It didn’t usually both him unless he was trying to climb into a tree stand during hunting season. He would notice the injury again and the thought of those two days would come back.
They never did see anyone from the military ever again. The submarine never returned and life continued back to normal. Buck and Carol would have two more children. The tribe had doubled in size in a few years. They had found other groups over time that lived nearby but they all agreed to keep their distance instead of inviting more trouble into their lives. It may not have been the life they were accustomed to before The Day but the children didn’t know any better and they seemed happy with this simple life. Some of the men felt like they had retired early, hunting and fishing all day with no worries about bills or taxes. They still had the stress of worrying about food and water but that was surpassed by the thrill of the hunt and relaxing out in the garden. With no nine to five jobs they had more than enough time to take care of their needs. The world had changed after The Day, to Buck, it appeared to be healing nicely.
Chapter 22: Midwest United States
Information is not power, it is beyond power. Having information is the difference between life and death. Unfortunately, over the past hundred years, man did not learn what information was important for survival and instead focused on other endeavors. That should have been man’s undoing. There were those who strived to gather those things that were lost in hopes of replacing the knowledge that was gone.
A few people remembered what the name of the town was before they settled and started over. Most came up with a new name to move on from the old world. New Haven was given and the name stuck. The town was seen as a safe haven from the outside world that they were living in but it was still tough to survive in.
The few books in town had become valuable commodities and were beyond a price at market. Some people stole them, others tried to lend them out only to never have them returned. The knowledge of growing food was valuable and worth more than anybody could offer. Some people at the market had gone back to bartering with silver and gold and in most cases that worked for them. The people who brought the best food to market were quickly becoming rich while others didn’t do so well. Seeing the growing shift between people at the market, a group of people held a meeting to figure out how to improve the lives of everyone and keep the peace of the town intact.
Sitting in the bar of the local mead shop were Norah, John, Bruce, and Odin who stood behind the bar watching for any customers that might come in.
“So, shall we get started gentlemen?” Norah asked the other men.
“I don’t see any reason to take our time.” Bruce said with a hint of sarcasm sipping from his glass of mead.
“We need to diversify the food around here.” Norah said.
“Squirrel not cutting it for you?” John joked.
“Hardly.” Bruce commented.
“It’s not the game, it’s the plants. Every year we have some crops that do well and others that don’t. Some people try to do simple things like canning and still lose a good portion of their food because they messed up somewhere along the way. Simply put, we have a community of people trying to be farmers who were never farmers. We need information.” Norah said.
Everyone who was invited had an idea as to what the meeting was about. John and Bruce dreaded being asked to leave their homes again for some other mission.
“Why do I have a funny feeling I know what you are going to suggest?” John said.
“I’m not saying that you have to go out and find these things. Out of everyone I think the people in this room may know where a person can go to find information. Here I made a list.” Norah pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. The list was long, a collection of books and tools that would help people farming.
John took the list from her glancing it over. He noticed the title Backyard Homestead on it, the same book he took from the library when Fatima and he were leaving the city. There were others he thought he might recognize but couldn’t be sure.
“Is this what you’re after?” John asked.
“We need information for people to be able to learn how to live like this again. Otherwise, we will have more people dying.” Norah said.
John kept the book to himself knowing that if word got out it might come up missing one day.
“So, how do we find these books?” Bruce asked taking another sip fearing the answer.
“We need to have somebody go out and collect what they can and bring it back.” Norah said.
John shook his head. He was done. Three kids at home now, no telling when a fo
urth could be on the way.
Bruce felt the same way. He took it upon himself to travel along the countryside and find people to invite to the market and the community they had built. At times it was dangerous and he sometimes wondered if he would ever see Isabel again. He didn’t know if he could go through that again.
“I don’t know why you’re all making this so hard,” Odin said behind the bar. “We already know where to send someone if we really wanted these books. The library should still have plenty inside to offer. The greenhouse down the street from my old house had plenty of books in their store. Hell, I bet the librarian would have doubles of items that he could send our way. He shouldn’t have a problem with it since I supply the liquor, he pays for the books. Have we really gotten so wrapped up in things we forgot how to solve the simplest of problems?”
“Odin, I think I’ll have a drink.” John said.
“Me too.” Norah said.
Odin took out three glasses and filled them. He left the bar, locked the door and joined them at the table. Odin took the list off the table and scanned it.
“We need to start a library,” Odin said.
Eyes rolled around the table.
“We tried that,” John said. “Everything ended up stolen and never returned.”
“We need to flood the market. Get so many books in town that nobody will care who has one and who doesn’t.” Bruce said.
Everyone looked at him.
“What? I studied economics for a semester.” he said.
“The librarian will help us. And like I said there are other places to look. I think there is something else we need.” Odin added.
“Like?” John asked.
“Seeds. Lots of seeds. I see this seed savers book and we need to require everyone to collect seeds and start a seed bank. If crops are lost for whatever reason we can’t lose all the seeds and the plant. We also should start a community garden where we study the plants and see what does well here and what doesn’t.” Odin said.
“How do you know all of this? I lived on a farm for years and I didn’t think of all this.” Norah said.
After the Day- Red Tide Page 27