TRIBES

by Mia Frances

  "How do we find him?" the boy asked, wiping away tears.

  "Stick to the riverbank. You won't need to find him. He'll find you." Alex held the little girl close, bending to gently kiss her on the forehead. "We're going to take you home now baby, everything's going to be all right." The eyes opened, then shut again. Alex examined her head and winced as she felt a large lump protruding from the back of her skull. "Bring the light closer," she directed.

  Justin knelt beside her, alarmed when he saw the crusted blood. "Is she hurt bad?"

  "I don't know," Alex responded, looking helpless. "It looks like she lost a lot of blood. Michelle honey, wake up," she pleaded, gently shaking her. "Open your eyes."

  The lashes fluttered, then slowly parted. She looked around, appearing dazed, trying to focus.

  "Michelle."

  The lids drooped only to lift again. "I want to go home," she whimpered.

  "I know baby, I know," she soothed. "We're going to take you home right away."

  Suddenly the girl looked terrified, her head twisting from side to side as though searching for something. "Deana! Lindsey!" she called out into the darkness. "Where are they?" she wailed "Where are they?"

  "Shhh, it's all right," Alex assured her. "I'm going to find them."

  "We wanted to surprise you, bring home a lot of food," she sobbed.

  "I know sweetheart. I know." For a moment she just held her close, then looked up at Justin. "Can you manage her? She's got to be carried; I don't think she can walk."

  He nodded, indicating he could. "Is she going to be all right?"

  "I hope so. Be careful with her."

  In order to free his hands to carry both a torch and a gun, they had to strap the little girl to his back, securing her there with their shirts and belts.

  "Do you think you can make it all the way back to the camp like this?" Alex asked.

  The boy straightened up from his hunched over position and clumsily took a few steps forward. "Yeah, I'll be all right," he assured her. "The ground's uneven here. Got to keep looking down to make sure I don't trip over something. Throws me off balance, but it'll be easier on the road. Do I stick to the road all the way home?"

  "You'll have to. It's longer than cutting through the woods, but it's too dark and too treacherous on the trails: too easy for you to stumble on a rock or a root, walk into a branch, or even lose your footing and go tumbling into a creek or over a cliff. It should be safe, but just in case it isn't, you keep that rifle of yours in your hand. You hear me?"

  He nodded, then looked at her, "I think you should come..."

  "I know what you think Justin," she said cutting him off in midsentence, "But it has to be this way. Besides, Martha will be there to help you. You'll make it back OK."

  "I'm not worried about me," he objected, "It's you I'm afraid for. I'm scared to death you're going to get killed. It's nighttime, they're not going anywhere, they'll be sleeping. We can go home and still make it up to the camps by sunrise."

  "No! I need you home with the kids. Charles can't do it alone. No more arguments! This is the way it has to be. I'm not stupid Justin. I'm not looking to get killed. I'll be careful. I know you want to help get your sister and cousin back; but believe me, the best way to do that is by doing what I ask."

  He turned away from her in frustration. Why wouldn't she listen?

  "The sooner you get started the better," Alex told him, then, addressing Martha, "You'll be safer with us for a while. Is there anything you want to take with you?"

  "I'm not leaving."

  Alex gaped at her, stunned. "You're what?"

  "I'm not leaving," she repeated.

  "Why the hell not?"

  She pointed off into the darkness. "My man's over there, buried under a pile of stones. I can't leave him."

  "He's dead," Alex challenged, hoping to reason with the woman, "You can't do anything for him now."

  "I'm staying," she insisted.

  "You can't stay; they might come back. You have to get out of here!"

  Martha didn't answer. She looked at them sadly, then rose to her feet, and trudged off toward her husband's grave.

  "Martha," Alex called after her, but the woman just kept walking, disappearing into the night. "Martha. Martha come back!" she shouted.

  "She's acting crazy," Justin blurted out. "We need to go after her!"

  "It wouldn't do any good."

  "But we can't just leave her here," he objected.

  "There's nothing we can do." Alex lifted her torch and began making her way toward the road.

  Alex stuffed some pieces of wood into the sling, "That should see you most of the way home."

  He nodded, too choked up to speak.

  "You be careful OK?"

  He reached into his jacket and produced a handful of shells. "Here take these. You'll need them."

  Alex filled her pockets, then gently patted his cheek. "Don't worry Justin, I'll be fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

  He threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly. After a moment, looking as though he were ready to burst into tears, he let her go.

  Alex gathered up his torch and gun and gave them to him. "You better go," she said, kissing him on the cheek. "You've got a lot of ground to cover between now and morning."

  "I love you Aunt Alex!" he stammered. "I just wanted you to know that." The words spoken, tears trickling down his cheeks, he set off for home.

  She watched him go, a tightness growing in her chest. In all the time she'd known him, even as a little boy, he'd never said he loved her, always remaining distant, aloof. That he'd said it now saddened her. It sounded like a farewell, having a frightening finality about it, like the closing lines, the unhappy ending, of a tragic story. She wiped the tears from her eyes and took a deep breath as she retrieved her torch. Though scared, the emotion driving her was rage. Alex wanted vengeance! She looked back at the receding dot of light in the distance. There'd be no reprieve, no rescue this time, the burden of saving them rested with her and her alone. Her back to the wind, Alex began the journey north.

  Chapter 29

  Justin's arms and back were aching, the pain growing worse with each faltering step forward. He lifted the torch higher, taking a moment to catch his breath and get his bearings. His body was trembling with exhaustion, nevertheless he pushed on. He could see the shadow of the maintenance shed on his right. Only another mile. Could he make it? His legs were unsteady, tremors of fatigue shooting through his calves and thighs. He tried to straighten up, but his muscles reacted violently, sending spasms of pain down the length of his spine. Michelle's arms held fast to his neck, her head nestled against the side of his face. How many feet were in a mile? He couldn't remember. His mind was far away, traveling the desolate road north. One mile was only…only… Then it came to him…5,280 feet. Not so very far. Take one step at a time he told himself. Just keep moving your feet, first one, then the other.

  Justin stopped. There were rustling noises ahead. He fumbled with his gun, while the other arm held the torch aloft. He peered into the pitch black night, but could see nothing. Everything beyond the glow of his light was shrouded in shadow. He listened. It was big whatever it was; too much noise for a rabbit or coon. He cringed, thinking that most animals would run away from the light, not come toward it. Even a deer, though mesmerized, would remain still. That left only two possibilities. It was either a bear or it was human. Whatever it was, he couldn't outrun it. He thought about dropping the torch and diving into the brush, but was afraid to leave the light behind. He could use it as a weapon. A charging bear might be intimidated by a flame repeatedly jabbed at its muzzle. It might be frightened enough to turn tail and run. Breathing hard, Justin looked around frantically for a rock or something to hide behind. No such luck. There was only the road and the inky expanse of forest beyond it. Slowly he began backing up. It was still coming, homing in on the light. His arms began to shake uncontrollably.

  Nearing the maintenance shed, he threw the tor
ch down on the road; and, as sparks flew, ran for cover, hiding behind the wall. The noise stopped. Had he frightened it away? He got his answer when the sounds resumed. Each snap and crunch brought it closer. He peeked around the corner of the shed. All he could see was the light from the discarded torch. The sound changed. It wasn't in the brush anymore. It was on the road! And it definitely wasn't an animal! He heard footsteps, heavy boots hitting the ground. It was coming for him! He raised his weapon, hands shaking worse than ever. He didn't want to kill anyone; he just wanted to go home, His body went rigid with fear as a menacing figure emerged from the shadows into the shimmering orange glow. He panicked, trying to take aim, but the tremors in his arms were so bad the barrel bucked. He couldn't fix his sight on the target. The figure moved closer, then stopped, bending to retrieve the torch. Justin held his breath as the stranger approached the shed. The intruder knew he was there. The boy cocked his gun, heart pounding, and, with faltering steps, walked out to face the enemy. Light played on the features of both faces. They stared at one another a moment in stunned silence. Gun dropping to the ground, Justin collapsed sobbing into the man's arms.

  Chapter 30

  It was starting to rain, the first sprinkles striking her face. She looked down at the ground; the dirt had become blacktop. This was where she'd find them, somewhere along this dark ribbon of road. She'd have to proceed more cautiously now, the territory was unfamiliar. For all she knew, they might have posted guards to keep watch from the shadows. Up ahead she could see the barest outline of something large off to the left. She studied it, uncertain what it was. Deciding it was a building and not a cluster of trees, she slowly made her way toward it.

  What she discovered were the charred remains of a two-story log chalet, the porch, roof, and interior gutted by flames. She peered through the gaping hole where the door had once been. There was a foul stink to the place. It wasn't just the noxious odor of smoke and soot, but something more, something rank, the unmistakable stench of death. She poked the torch through the opening; and, seeing burned corpses inside, quickly turned away, aghast. After a moment, regaining her composure, Alex forced herself to look. There were six bodies in all: two adults and the rest children. They were huddled together against the side wall, debris from the collapsed roof blanketing the charred flesh and bone. The faces and hair were gone, burned by the flames, the clothing reduced to ash. What flesh remained on the bodies resembled brittle, black leather. It appeared as though they'd made no attempt to escape, preferring to perish in the flames rather than confront what lay in wait for them outside. Beside the smallest corpse were the remains of a doll, its plastic face melted, a lone, blue, glass eye surveying the carnage around it. Alex stepped back, and hurried away. She'd seen enough killing, enough butchery to last a lifetime. Some unspeakable evil had been unleashed with the bombs. Blood lust. Savagery. Brutality. Barbarism. Like a disease, it festered and flourished in the aftermath of the war. Now that plague was spreading from the towns and villages to the remotest areas of the backcountry. It had to be destroyed.

  Alex couldn't feel anything anymore. Her heart and mind were numb. The acrid odor of burned flesh remained in her nostrils. How many corpses had she seen: 20, 30, more? She'd lost count. Everywhere she looked, there was nothing but death and destruction. The blackened beams of burned-out buildings becoming gravestones. Those that had fled the fires lay dead and rotting in the grass. Their corpses mutilated and dismembered. There'd been no escape for them. No words could describe the carnage; visions of hell paled in comparison. Her feet shuffled forward, tears drying, hands steady as they clutched her weapon. The atrocities they'd committed bore witness to the madness that held sway here. What kind of sadistic, soul-less fiends burn women and children alive? Hack off hands, feet, arms, and legs, or behead and disembowel their victims? The dead cried out to be avenged!

  Alex shook her head. Wherever they were, it wasn't here! The road was too open, the ground low and indefensible. They were too cunning to leave themselves open to easy discovery and attack. They'd have chosen higher ground. With the road a wasteland and the festering corpses a breeding ground for disease, they would stay well away from here, setting up their lair somewhere in the hills. From there they could observe their victims and launch their attacks. That's where she'd find the girls. She'd wasted precious time looking in the wrong places. Since the river formed a natural barrier just east of the road, she'd have to concentrate her search in the foothills to the west. Wherever their den was, the way to it lay somewhere off this meandering ribbon of macadam. Since the state held title to most of the interior lands, it couldn't be very far in off the road, no more than a half mile at most. She looked up at the dark sky, a steady rain pelting her face. It was chilly. They'd have to have a fire going tonight to keep warm. If only the weather would clear, she might be able to locate them by their smoke. Her torch sputtered as she trudged on through the night.

  She collapsed against a rock. She had to rest. Her legs were giving out, her feet sore and blistered. Where were they? Her efforts, thus far, had been in vain. The few off-road camps she'd found had been plundered, then set afire; the body count mounting. Everything lay in ruin. The butchers hadn't missed a one. Alex couldn't help thinking these weren't just random acts of violence. That they'd been plotted and carried out in accordance with some planned reign of terror. But why? In a few miles, the road would empty into route 28. Why would they come this far north? Other gangs of thugs, equally as violent and murderous, controlled the area around Indian Lake. If the bodies she'd seen in the village were any indication, they'd fight to the death to keep the area under their control. It seemed to Alex that the raiders that took the girls would try to keep as much distance as possible between themselves and the other armed groups. They were too smart not to realize the danger. Then it hit her…she'd come too far! They weren't camped anywhere near here, so close to rival bands. In fact, they'd probably been driven out of the area by their enemies, swooping down from the northern end of the road like a swarm of murderous locusts, wreaking havoc, moving further and further south in an attempt to insure their own survival. The savagery at the camps was a warning to the others to stay out. It all made sense now. They were miles away to the south. She had to go back!

  Alex sniffed the wind. The smell was unmistakable. It was wood smoke! She laid down the stump of her torch; and, moving upwind of it a few hundred feet, took another whiff. The source was somewhere nearby. The cold, damp air was forcing the smoke down instead of allowing it to drift upward and dissipate. Alex slowly scrutinized the hills, looking for shadows or faint glimmers of light. Nothing! Hurrying back to the smoldering piece of wood, she quickly lifted it up and began examining the dirt shoulder along the road. Looking for trampled grass and the path that would lead her to their hideout.

  After several minutes, she finally located two muddy ruts that led off to the right. Staying as close to the trees as possible, Alex followed them. She held the torch low, hoping it wouldn't be seen. It was probably close to four in the morning by now. She had to find them before dawn, before the vermin woke up. She needed the cover of darkness in order to get close enough to their camp to attempt a rescue. Once the sun rose, she'd lose what little advantage she had, the element of surprise gone. Alex looked at the torch, wondering if they had sentries posted. Surely they'd figure the girls' family would be out searching for them? Wouldn't they be expecting an attack? She quickly extinguished the flame. She was like a blind person, feeling her way in the dark, arms flailing, trying to locate and hold back the branches that blocked her way.

  Alex was nearing the top of a knoll when she saw a flicker of light. She moved cautiously toward it. Nestled in the trees was a structure, a large cabin. A thin ribbon of light could be seen extending lengthwise up one wall. She hung back, keeping to the trees, then began inching her way closer. It was a window, its drapes drawn, not quite touching, allowing the fire's glow to escape. Alex stood watching, listening for footsteps, afraid that at any
moment someone would jump out at her. She moved ahead slowly, taking care not to be heard. The rain had stopped, but every branch she brushed against sent a shower of noisy droplets down to the ground, making her wince. Alex stopped, then started again. The building was silent, there was no sound coming from inside. In the scant light emanating from the interior, Alex saw what appeared to be a porch. She assumed that was the front way in. What she needed to determine was whether there was a back way out.

  Staying in the shadows, she slowly circled the house. The backyard was lit by the faint glow of dancing flames reflected in the glass of an unshaded window. A deck extended from the rear, accessible to the house by another door. Though she couldn't be sure, there appeared to be a figure moving around inside the building. She looked around nervously, wondering how close she could get to the house without being seen. She wanted a look inside, but to do that she'd have to get up on the deck.

  Alex snuck into the clearing then dashed across the yard to the deck. As soon as she reached it, she ducked under the floor. It was larger than it first appeared. Built into a steep grade, it stood a good eight or more feet tall at one end and was at least four feet off the ground where it attached to the wall. She searched for stairs but couldn't find any. Refusing to give up, she eased herself toward the wall, the way made easier by bits of light coming through the cracks between the boards.

  Suddenly everything went dark. Alex stopped, holding her breath. Something was blocking the light. Someone was standing in the window. Alex waited, afraid to move, each second seeming like an eternity. After a moment, the light reappeared. He was gone. She emerged on the side of the deck and peered over the edge. Taking her weapon from her shoulder and removing her jacket, she carefully laid them both on the ground and gently nudged them into the shadows with her foot. Clutching the posts with both hands, she tried to pull herself up, feet pressing hard against the wall to give her a boost. She wriggled and squirmed, finally maneuvering one leg, then the other over the rail. Once on the deck, she crawled on hands and knees to the side of the window. Ever so slowly, Alex rose to her feet and peeked in.