The Roar (The Roar Series Book 1)

by A. M. White

  Our group made it through the rock obstacle unscathed. I think we all breathed a sigh of relief. No casualties yet today.

  Timothy promised that the boat wasn’t too far up river. I walked on the pebbles and mud holding his hand. He kissed the top of my hand and a sensation ran through my body. I wouldn’t want to be on this journey with anyone else.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  At a point where the river bed expanded, Timothy let go of my hand and walked to the trees. I followed him to a place that the ground was sunken, covered in leaves.

  “If anyone happened upon this, they would think this was a trap and avoid it.” Timothy kicked back the diet to reveal a flat board. “Help me lift it,” he told Max as he approached.

  They peeled back the board to reveal a boat hidden beneath. They propped the board against a nearby tree. Looking down, the boat was humble, large enough to fit our party of four and worn with time. A small outboard motor hung from the back.

  “Geez, you guys thought of everything, didn’t you?” Max wondered.

  “We’ve been going after people for years now. So you learn how to make things as comfortable as you can,” Timothy responded. “It’s going to take all of us to lift it, minus Alex. It’s not a good idea for you to lift the weight with your sutures,” he went on, “I could do it myself, but it’s an awkward shape.”

  “Really?” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “I can’t help?”

  “No,” Cara cautioned, “Timothy is right. If you tear the wound back open, I’ll only be forced to use more of our meds. Plus, it’ll hurt really bad and all.”

  “Fine,” I sighed.

  I stepped back and watched the trio strain to lift the boat onto the ground. They placed it upside down before rolling it right side up. Cara dropped down into the hole and tossed up two oars. I plucked them from the edge and dragged them along to the shore where the boat was being pushed to the water.

  Max panted with exertion. The rest of us took notice. “You guys have got to remember I’ve been held up in that house for a long time.”

  Cara motioned for him to come near. She looked concerned. “It’s probably nothing, but I need to take a listen,” she said.

  She placed her ear on his chest. “Your chest sounds clear of fluid, which is good.” She stepped back and looked in his eyes. “Have you ever been diagnosed with asthma?”

  Max smoothed his shirt over his stomach. “When I was a kid but I haven’t had a problem with it since I was little,” he shrugged.

  “Ok, well, you are having a problem now. Sit down and try to relax,” she directed.

  He followed orders. Cara sat with him and talked him through breathing. She slowly massaged his shoulders and upper back.

  Timothy and I exchanged glances. At least it wasn’t what his sister had. Timothy shoved the boat the rest of the way on his own.

  Eventually, Max’s breathing got under control. Cara wrapped an arm around his waist. She guided him to the boat. It swayed as she climbed aboard and pulled Max to sit in the bottom near her. I balanced myself and sat on the other side to give them space.

  Timothy shoved the vessel, splashed through the shallows, and hopped in. He settled next me.

  “I’m going to use the oars for a while. The boat makes traveling faster but it also leaves us out in the open. We don’t need to attract attention,” Timothy explained. He notched the oars and began to push us through the current.

  “Let me know when you get tired and I’ll take a turn,” Cara piped up.

  “Me too,” Max chimed in.

  “The heck you will,” Cara responded.

  “Come on, Cara,” he retorted,” I need to build my strength back up.”

  “Maybe for a little at a time,” Timothy approved.

  Cara nodded at me, “You should be healed up by nightfall. I’ll take out the thread then and you can take a turn.”

  I was relieved, “Good, because I hate feeling useless.”

  Timothy turned the oars over and over. The rhythm made me sleepy. Cara and Max snuggled. The pet name Max had called Cara made me smile. I dozed in the sun, allowing my eyes to close.

  I was nudged awake. My eyes were blurry from sweaty sleep. The sun actually felt warm for once. I forced my eyes to focus.

  Timothy pointed ahead. Above the river bank was clear of trees. A large wagon sat on the precipice. The wooden wagon was haltered upon two horses. The wagon itself was made of wood with slats raised around it, like a paddy wagon. A shadow moved inside. A pair of hands shot out between the slats, waving frantically.

  “Help, help me!” A woman’s voice cried. I turned to Timothy. “What is going on?” Max and Cara were asleep in the bottom of the boat. He pulled me near and whispered, “It’s a trap.” “What? Why?” My heart lodged in my throat. The woman’s screams continued.

  “She’s bait,” Timothy said in a sullen voice. “Either she’s with the trappers or she is their prisoner and they put her there to attract people.”

  “That is sick,” I stated. “There is nothing we can do, is there?”

  He shook his head, “Anything we try will end up with us in that cage.”

  As we neared, she became more frantic. She beat on the insides of the enclosure and yelled with all her might.

  Cara rose and took in the scene. She shook her head, “Poor thing, if she is a prisoner. I hate when they do that.”

  “Obviously, you have seen this before?” I asked. “Yeah, she is there to lure people to her and there is an ambush waiting,” Cara warned. “When we were new to rescuing, we found that out the hard way. We were lucky to escape alive.”

  “What do the trappers do with their prisoners?” I was afraid to ask but curiosity got the best of me.

  “Everything you can imagine. Women are used and then sold as slaves or taken to our people for a reward. It depends on whether the trappers have a relationship with our people. Men are used as slaves or turned in also,” Timothy said scornfully.

  As we put distance between us and the wagon, the woman’s voice ceased. I looked over my shoulder to see that two men had appeared at the river’s edge. They watched as our boat moved away.

  “Luckily, they don’t have guns or we’d be in trouble,” Timothy explained.

  Max stirred and moaned. His forehead was beaded with sweat. Cara felt his head. She nodded at us, acknowledging that it was just the heat. She woke him and made him shed his jacket. The rest of us followed suit. Out in the open, the sun warmed us quickly.

  Cara passed out the last of our meager rations. I fed Timothy his food so that he wouldn’t have to stop rowing. The current would push us back downriver if he did.

  The day slipped from us. The sun hid behind the trees. The river expanded to almost fifty yards across. It was peaceful and didn’t seem to be as rocky.

  Cara leaned over the side of the boat. She was looking for decent size fish. She asked for the grocery bag I found last night. I handed it to her. She poked several small holes in the bottom. Then she tied the handles to her knife and trailed it in the water.

  Soon, she had a brim snared and plopped it onto the floor of the boat. She neatly held the bag and sliced the head from it. She tossed the head back into the water. She was a genius as far I was concerned.

  Max looked on noting her technique. I could appreciate his willingness to learn. After she caught a second fish, he offered to try. He was a bit more jumpy than she was, hauling up a twig or big leaf a couple of times. When he finally got the hang of it, he produced a fish in the bag. Max copied Cara’s slaughter of the fish. He beamed with pride.

  When the light grew dim, Timothy rowed us to the shore. “I need to be very careful about where we store the boat for the night,” he said.

  “What are you thinking?” Max questioned.

  “How about I take the oars for a while? Cara said I should be ok by now,” I intervened.

  Cara disagreed, “Let stop here for a bit and cook up these fish before they go bad. Then, I vote for Alex
’s plan. I’ll take over after she gets tired. I don’t really think it’s a good idea to cook and eat where we are going to sleep. The fire and smells might attract company.”

  The boys agreed and we made land. Timothy jumped out and ran the boat onto shore so it wouldn’t drift away. It was nice to stand and stretch. Each of us rubbed out our stiff muscles.

  The boys got to work building a fire. Cara cleaned the fish, teaching me as she went. In no time, they had a spark fostered. They cradled it in kindling, blowing softly on it to persuade the fire to grow.

  Cara spiked the fish through several times to ensure that it wouldn’t fall from a stick. She roasted it on the open fire the boys had made.

  Each of us received our piece, in turn. We sucked the meat from the bones noisily, tossing the remains into the woods. I licked my fingers to retrieve the last morsels of nutrients left behind.

  It was a fine meal, but nowhere near enough to fill my belly. I realized then that my stomach ached from hunger. There had been so much going on that I had not listened to it.

  The rations at camp were meager, but there was usually some kind of grain included. The biscuits or flat bread stuck to your ribs longer than meat alone. I couldn’t believe my mouth was watering at the thought of camp food.

  Cara interrupted my thoughts by insisting on taking out my stitches. That was one way to forget about being hungry quickly.

  Cara worked on my side. She used the light of the fire to cut one of the knots at the end of my wound. My fingers dug into the dirt with every pull of the thread through my skin. It hurt so badly because the skin had completely healed around the stitches. The tiny bit of salve worked too well.

  She apologized over and over for the pain I was experiencing. I grit my teeth until I was sure I would break them. I was careful not to make any noise even though I vibrated from the procedure.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  At the end of our stay, Max kicked dirt over the fire. Our group loaded back into the boat. Timothy slid the boat away from the shore.

  I blinked and two men ran out of the trees. “Stop right there!” One of the men bellowed.

  With a jolt, Timothy shoved us away from him with all his might. The boat skidded to the middle of the river, the boat careened backwards.

  I gripped the edge of the boat. “No!” I yelled at both Timothy and the men.

  Cara leaped for the motor and pulled on the string to start it. Timothy raised his hands. The men walked to him. The motor sputtered. Max grabbed the gun and cocked it low as to not give it away. The motor whirled again, springing to life. Cara turned us back toward Timothy.

  The men held knives; no guns were visible. I whispered that to Max. The motor was so loud the men couldn’t hear me. Unfortunately, I couldn’t hear what they were saying either.

  Timothy was turned toward them, hands still raised. The men yelled at us over the noise of the engine to shut it off. Cara did respond, but took the oars to keep us aligned with them. We were far enough from the riverbank to keep us safe.

  “Pull the boat in, honey!” One of them commanded.

  Cara turned the boat and slowly oared us toward shore.

  One of them jerked Timothy’s arm down behind his back. Timothy quickly turned on the man, sweeping his feet out from under him. He pounced on the other man punching him square in the jaw. The man fell to the ground. The first man started to recover, but Timothy struck an elbow on the back of his head. He responded by crumpling to the ground.

  Cara returned us to shore. Max sprang from the boat and joined Timothy.

  “Those were the guys from earlier. They must’ve followed us,” Timothy announced.

  “That means the wagon and the girl are nearby,” I concluded.

  Timothy nodded. As soon as I could jump to dry land, I did. Cara stayed on the boat.

  “Should we look for her?” I proposed.

  “What do you think?” he directed at Cara.

  “Go, but make it quick. Max and I will watch these guys,” she told us.

  Timothy grabbed my hand and we ran up along the embankment. The wagon was there just as predicted.

  The woman reached out to us. “Thank God. Did you kill them?” She asked. She ran to the back of the cage.

  “No, so you better tell me now, are you with them?” Timothy shot back.

  The woman wailed, “You have no idea what they have done to me. Please, please let me out. I just want to get back to my family!”

  Timothy climbed up the wooden cage and released a bolt holding the back door locked. It fell open. I held out a hand to the woman and she crumpled onto me. We both landed in a heap.

  Timothy pried her from me. Her stench was overwhelming, bodily fluids, and grime mixed together.

  “Thank you, Jesus, thank you,” she moaned. She stumbled away from us. Picking up speed with each step, she disappeared among the trees.

  A gunshot fired, another followed. The blasts echoed from the river. I froze. Timothy reached for my hand, pulling me into a sprint. Down the bank and below we ran.

  Max laid face down; the gun lay beside him. The two men were sprawled in odd angles, blood pooling around the one nearest to Max.

  I searched for Cara. She was crouched in the boat, her eyes wide. Timothy rolled Max onto his side.

  “I didn’t have another option,” Max mumbled.

  “It’s ok, you did what you had to do,” Timothy reassured him.

  Max curled into a fetal position. Timothy cradled him in his arms. Timothy whispered to Max trying to soothe him. Max’s muscles were rigid as though his whole body had cramped.

  I trudged into the water and entered the boat. Cara’s eyes didn’t leave Max. I wrapped my arms around her.

  “What happened? You don’t get like this,” I spoke in a soft voice.

  “He didn’t have to,” her voice cracked.

  “What do you mean?” I prodded.

  “He didn’t have to kill them,” she blinked. “The one guy surrendered when he came to. He shot him anyway. Then, he shot the other. He was still unconscious,” she squeaked. “He didn’t have to.”

  The thought sank in. Max had killed them without warrant. I knew she was making a connection between his actions and those of his father’s.

  I reasoned the situation in my mind. Max had to be scared. He might have reacted irrationally. Had they deserved to die? I saw what they did to that woman. If they had lived, they would’ve done it again. They would’ve lured people into their trap for their own gain. The world might be a better place without them.

  “Cara, if you had been with us-,” I changed my angle midsentence. “What these guys were doing was sick. The wagon was up there. The woman had been taken. I can’t even imagine what they put her through.”

  “It’s not that he shot them, Alex,” she trembled. “It’s that he changed, he went blank. I called to him when the man woke. He didn’t look at me or say anything. He was like a machine. It really scared me. After what his father-,” She stopped.

  “Cara, we need to hear Max’s side of the story. I’m sure he was terrified,” I said convincingly.

  “Alex!” Timothy called out, “Get the oars notched. The sound of those shots traveled.”

  I did as I was told. “Let Max explain,” I urged.

  Timothy hoisted Max over his shoulder. Max was still crippled by what he had done.

  Timothy laid him in the bottom of the boat. He hugged his knees to his chest.

  Timothy sat down and took the oars from me.

  “I’ll row first; I can do it faster,” he advised.

  He plunged the oars into the water and we sprang forward. He moved us with the speed of his full strength. The tiny motor had nothing on him. The breeze lapped at my face.

  Cara stared at Max like he was a vile disease that had crept on to the boat. She didn’t seem to know what to do. It’s hard to avoid someone in such a small space.

  Quietly, I asked Timothy, “Did he say anything?” I tilted my head to Max.<
br />
  “He said he snapped. He wasn’t going to let them hurt Cara. That was the only thought he had,” Timothy barely moved his lips as he spoke.

  “He will need to tell her that,” I decided.

  “I have a feeling that he hasn’t killed anyone before,” Timothy speculated. “His dad may have taken care of the dirty work till now.”

  That was a reasonable assumption. A father would try to shield his child from that weight. The memory of my own dad tugged at my heart again. He would expect me to take care of myself; but as long as he was there, he would’ve taken matters into his own hands.

  I leaned onto Timothy’s back and held him around the waist. I rocked with his movement. My father would be happy that I had someone to help me, to keep me safe. My eyes clouded with tears. There was so little time to heal out here; there was always another situation to deal with.

  I had all the time in the world to think at the camp, but I had always pushed emotions down. I feared showing weakness there.

  I peeked around Timothy. Cara had rested her head in her lap. Max was still motionless on the floor.

  Not so long ago, I had taken my first life. I had done it to protect Cara and Timothy. It still hurt; I sympathized with him.

  When he finally began to relax, I crawled over to him. I held his hand. He peered sideways at me.

  “It’s ok, Max,” I whispered, “We’ve all had to go through this. Whether you had to or not, you did it because you didn’t want them to hurt anyone else.”

  He squeezed my hand. “Then why do I feel like a monster? Why does Cara look at me like that?” He stammered.

  “You have to tell her why. Right now, she doesn’t understand,” I explained.

  Timothy started to breathe heavily from exertion. “Alex, I am about ready to hand it over to you,” he puffed.

  I took my spot between the oars. “I say we take turns through the night,” I rationalized. “There is no sense in stopping to run into another issue. I think we should skip stopping at the next settlement. Do we have enough supplies to make it?”