Conflict (Crossover Series)

by Socha, Walt

  “How the fuck did we survive?” Larry’s chair groaned as the big man leaned back, tilting against his right side, his left shoulder thick with bandages.

  “Levanu didn’t,” said Brent. The man’s face twisted in pain even though he was the only one without an injury. His impassive demeanor had collapsed during the first evening of their return journey.

  Joe looked up at his friends. The flickering flames exaggerated the strained faces. They had reached Haven at twilight, wounded and exhausted after a five-day ride. Too spent for sleep, they sat at the fire circle, staring into the flames.

  “And I killed another kid.” Larry’s voice, barely a whisper, cut through the night.

  “He was young but not a kid.” Joe took a deep breath. “He was at most a year or two younger than Samatu and would have happily killed you.”

  Larry didn’t move or answer.

  “Any problems along the way down or back?” Potts stood, picked up the coffee pot, and filled Joe’s cup.

  “We only found three villages along the river that were still inhabited. Each next to rapids. Probably part of the river trade system and left intact by Tork to help move canoes and goods through the whitewater.”

  “Any of Tork’s people there?”

  “Didn’t see any. And with Larry in the lead and Brent behind us, the villagers scattered. Both ways.”

  Potts gestured to Larry and Brent with the pot. Both looked up at the movement but didn’t acknowledge him. Potts raised an eyebrow at Hatimu who shook his head and remained silent.

  “The important thing is that you guys made it back.” Potts set the coffee pot down on one of the rocks that encircled the fire. “Back to the children.” He glanced at the huts where the children were sleeping—or pretending to sleep. He grimaced. “Focus on that.”

  Larry stirred. Sighed. Winced at the movement.

  Alita walked into the firelight. She wore her .22 revolver at her waist, the heavy gun belt cinched tight around her narrow waist. “I gave Kristi one of the sleeping pills. And changed her bandages. She’s sleeping.” She looked over her shoulder. “I also gave Canisa a pill.”

  Alita hesitated, a tear leaving a trail on her cheek. “Canisa took the bed next to Kristi’s and fell asleep holding her hand.”

  Joe glanced past Alita to the large tent where Kristi and Levanu’s mother slept fitfully, but at least it was sleep. Joe blew out a breath and nodded to Alita. “Thanks.” She had been a very adept student. Now she was the caretaker. A small smile crossed her face before she lowered her eyes.

  “I checked on Samatu.” Alita’s face twisted into a frown. “He still refuses to believe that Levanu was tortured. I think he and Levanu were becoming friends.” She glanced toward the hut where Samatu was chained. “He asked again to be freed.”

  “Not a good topic.” Joe glanced at Larry, who continued to glare into the fire. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow. Maybe figure out more about this Tork guy.”

  “I’m remembering something odd.” Brent raised his head. His face was still twisted in pain, but his eyes narrowed in concentration.

  “When I was leaving, I had Kristi on her horse.” He took a trembling breath. “I glanced around. One warrior was standing to the inland side of the village by one of the still standing huts. He was just watching. I’ve been playing it over and over in my head. Why he just watched.”

  “What did he look like?” Joe asked.

  “He was a large man. With white clay on his face.” Brent closed his eyes, looking somewhere else. “But he had more than just the two strips of his warriors. Or the full-face paint worn by a couple of the warriors we had run into before. This man also had white clay markings on his arms. Stripes. Possibly simulating bones?”

  “I’ll ask Samatu tomorrow.” “Joe,” Alita said.

  Joe raised an eyebrow.

  “Kristi said something as her spirit went to sleep. Mostly she repeated Levanu’s name. But she also said other words.” She nodded to Brent. “Maybe something to do with the man with the clay on his body. Something about most of the warriors being sent off. Called them ‘Skullmen’.”

  “More questions for our young prisoner.” Joe nodded to Alita then glanced in the direction of the tower. “But I’d best relieve Niminu. Potts, you still going to be up to relieve me in a few hours?”

  He nodded and Joe rose.

  “Take this.” Brent held out his gun belt.

  “Thanks.” Joe grimaced. The loss of his rifle and handgun had been a serious blow.

  Brent rose. “I should check on the horses.”

  Alita rose also. “I will return to Kristi. I want to be there if she wakes.”

  ><><

  Once Joe and Brent disappeared into the darkness, Larry slammed his right fist into his left hand. And winced as the movement pulled at the stitches in his shoulder. “What the hell should we do now? Kristi’s way messed up. Brent’s practically a basket case. And all of Joe’s plans are fucked.”

  “They’re here because they wanted to be.” Potts reached out and laid a hand on Larry’s good shoulder. “We make choices. Sometimes they’re not much more than a dice roll.” He dropped his hand and looked at the village. “And regardless of all the philosophy, we got a job to do.” “I joined this cluster fuck to help Alita.” Larry paused.

  “And maybe to make up for some past stuff.”

  Both men jerked as a log snapped, adding a shower of sparks to the glow of the fire. On the other side of the fire circle, Hatimu slept.

  “And now what? Am I just one of Joe’s guns? What would your Buddha guy say about that?”

  “We want everything to be perfect. That’s human. But life isn’t. That’s reality.” Potts turned to look at his friend.

  “So we shouldn’t want? Just give up?”

  “I didn’t say to give up. Just reject the wanting part.” Potts gazed at the fire.

  Larry grimaced at a low cry from one of the huts. One of the children was probably having a nightmare. He sighed; this whole thing was a nightmare. But regardless of any bullshit philosophy, the children needed them.

  And he needed to show the kids everything he knew to help them survive whatever shit hit them in the future. Potts added wood to the fire. “Life is pain. But we continue. It’s the only thing we have. We find peace in simple living. Maybe we never get there. But if we’re human, we try.”

  “That’s not very comforting.”

  Chapter 34. Day 50

  Joe watched Alita fill a bowl with breakfast porridge and walk toward Kristi’s tent. He closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. Forced air back into his lungs.

  He looked up as Larry accepted a bowl from Potts and scooped stew into it. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  The cook nodded. “Looking forward to the herb garden.”

  “They’re gonna come for us.” Larry sat on one of the benches and stirred his breakfast, tracing the same circle over and over again. “Should we move on?”

  Joe stared at his own bowl as the contents cooled. “Crops are sprouting.” He looked across the fire circle where Marisa and Niminu sat eating. Behind them, Hatimu sat in one of the camp chairs. “I don’t think the elders would move again.”

  Niminu glanced up, face impassive. Marisa stared at her bowl. Hatimu cleared his throat. “Much time and hard work to clear land. Away from Tork, all cleared land occupied.”

  “Can’t run.” Joe glanced around the fire circle. Several of the younger children looked up, eyes watching from worried faces. Two of the older boys, Matu and Daru, frowned. “Look, we’re vulnerable from attack from all directions. But we have mobility with the horses in the cleared areas, and we have firepower. But we need to get working on that fort. We need it to protect the kids, the elders, and the valuable stuff.”

  “I want them to come.” Matu’s voice shook. “So I can kill them.” His mouth formed a thin line. Muscles in his cheek twitched.

  “If they come, we will protect ourselves.” Joe glanced from Matu to Hati
mu. The old war leader slowly shook his head. “But to protect his village, a warrior sometimes must avoid a fight.”

  Hatimu nodded once.

  Larry paused, spoon in the air. “What of the river?” “The clearing at the mouth of Snake Creek funnels any river attack directly into Haven. That’s the most likely route of any attack.” Joe shifted in his chair to gaze in the direction of the Susquehanna, images forming in his head. “Although past burns would probably make detouring through the trees almost as easy as a direct assault through the clearings.” Maybe? “What’s the first thing we have to do when we drop a tree?”

  Larry drew back his head, eyebrows narrowing. “Huh?”

  “We clear branches starting from the root end. The branches spread out from the trunk and away from the root end. It’s almost impossible to work your way down the trunk from the tip.”

  Larry’s eyebrows remained narrowed for several seconds. Then his face relaxed into a feral grin. “You’re thinking of a barrier of downed trees, tips toward the river, all along the clearings?”

  “I wouldn’t want to work my way through trees from that direction if the trees were close together.” Joe sat a little straighter. “And if we widen the river trail into more of a road, the horses would be more effective.” He looked around Haven. “But let’s get a stockade up first.” His eyes fell on Larry. “After we heal a bit.”

  “Damn.” Larry shook his head. “There goes my vacation.”

  ><><

  Kristi opened her eyes at the sound of her name. Sesapa sat in one of the camp chairs on the right side of Kristi’s cot, head facing the tent door flap. One the left, a second cot held a sleeping Canisa.

  “Kristi?” Alita pulled the flap back and peered in. “I have breakfast.”

  “Come in.” Claustrophobia crowded Kristi as Alita entered and knelt between the two cots. Why wouldn’t these people leave her alone? Let her grieve her pain and loss in private.

  “Please eat.” Alita held up a steaming bowl and a spoon.

  The odor of cinnamon and nutmeg stung her nostrils. Potts must have broken into his dwindling supply of spices. A faint stirring of hunger broke through the pain. Kristi sat up, the sheet dropping, exposing the fading bruises on her arms and ribs.

  “Please eat,” Alita said again.

  “Thanks.” Kristi accepted the bowl with her left hand and winced as she took the spoon with her right. A dull ache sliced through her right arm.

  “Do you want me to feed you?” Alita’s face twisted into sadness.

  “I can do it. It’s just a bit sore.”

  Suppressing a grunt, she swung her legs over the side of the cot and sat upright. After a few bites, she forced a smile. “This is really good. Please give my thanks to Potts.” As she ate, Kristi stole glances at the women with her. Sesapa had lost a husband and child. Alita, both her parents and many relatives. Canisa, everyone. But they were enduring. Could she? Images of Levanu hanging from a pole, his abdomen cut open, played across her mind. She shook herself. She wouldn’t let the monsters continue affecting her life. But, given the chance, she’d end theirs. An ember of hate formed and grew. She closed her eyes, thinking of Tork’s grin and laughter. Her hands shook. The bowl fell to the ground.

  “What is wrong?” Alita’s voice broke through her rage.

  Kristi froze. She took a long breath, let it out and opened her eyes to see Alita’s concerned look. Behind her, Sesapa’s hand touched her shoulder.

  “Sorry,” Kristi whispered as she reached out and took Alita’s hand. Sesapa’s reached her and covered both their hands. Warmth radiated from the contact. Was this what family felt like?

  ><><

  “The man with white on his arms and legs?” Joe asked. “Only Tork wears white clay on his arms and legs.”

  Samatu stared at the cut grasses that covered the medical tent’s floor.

  “Is he the leader?”

  “He is a great leader.” Samatu’s eyes challenged Joe. “He will unite all the lands of the Great River and the Salt Waters.”

  “Brent said he saw this man just watching. Not attacking.” Joe kept his eyes on the young warrior. “Why did he just watch?”

  “It is not my place to question the actions of Tork.”

  Favoring his injured left arm, Joe slowly lowered himself to the ground in front of Samatu. “How is your leg?”

  Samatu’s eyebrows furrowed at the change in subject. After a long minute, his face reverted to neutral. “It is much stronger. The Sky Goddess is a great healer.” He broke off to gaze at one wall of the tent, beyond which lay Kristi’s quarters.

  Chapter 35. Day 52

  “Joe.” A voice broke through a confusion of bodies, some dead, some alive. Joe rolled on his side, peering at the dim morning light back lighting a large face peering through the tent’s doorway.

  “We’re fucked.” The voice was Larry’s. “Samatu escaped. He took the guns.”

  ><><

  Matu held out his hand for the reins as Joe dismounted with deliberate movements. “Thanks.” Joe managed something that maybe resembled a smile. The children were really doing well with the horses. He’d have to keep an eye on the pecking order. The older boys were dominating the handling of the animals.

  “What did you find?” Potts handed Joe a cup. “This is the last of the coffee.”

  “Canoe skid marks.” Joe winced as he started to stretch out his left hand. He twisted slightly and grabbed the cup with his right hand. “Thanks.”

  Joe sat and regarded his companions. Kristi sat in one of the camp chairs, blanket draped around her against the morning cold. Canisa occupied the chair next to her, silent in her support. Alita stood on Kristi’s other side, prodding her to eat. She had only yesterday started joining the village for meals.

  Potts squatted by the fire, tending the coffee pot. Larry occupied another of the camp chairs, elbows propped on his knees, scowling into the fire. Around them sat the elders and children, silent and watching.

  Joe sipped at his coffee. “Looks like he had help. Me and Brent found one set of muddy prints heading toward the village from the boat. Two sets returning. Hard to tell how old, maybe six hours or so. The sun hit them before we got there.”

  Kristi gave a little groan. Covered her face with one hand. “While...” Her voice broke. She sucked in a shuddering breath. “During the torture of Levanu, I revealed to Tork that Samatu was alive and a captive.” She looked up at Joe. “I’m sorry. He probably sent his warriors up to get him.” She stared into the fire, red shadows playing off her tight face. “And Samatu probably knows how to use the guns.” Kristi looked at the ground again. “From observing while I taught Levanu.”

  Joe leaned past Canisa, placed his hand on Kristi’s shoulder, but withdrew as she flinched.

  “Let us go back to your tent.” Alita helped Kristi rise. Together they walked toward Kristi’s hut, Canisa following. Joe stared at the fire, avoiding the eyes of his companions. He hadn’t dealt with Samatu’s presence and he’d agreed to Brent’s idea of a central location for the weapons. So this disaster was really his fault.

  “The chain?” Potts broke the silence after several minutes.

  “We gave him too much slack. His helper probably just muscled them off his leg. The links are a bit bloody. He left a lot of skin, but probably no real harm done.”

  “This boat thing.” Larry broke his brooding. “We need to build some boats. Fast boats.” He gazed toward the river. “Something we can get around the rocks and through any rapids.”

  Joe looked at Larry. His friend hadn’t said a thing about Samatu escaping. Didn’t do the ‘I told you so’ thing, not even once.

  Hatimu walked into the flickering light of the cookfire and sat on one of the benches. He held an atlatl in his right hand and several darts in his left. “We have these.” He held them out to Joe.

  “Would you be interested in learning how to use a bow and arrows?” Joe hefted the spear thrower.

  “Bent stic
ks and short darts are for children.” “How do you hunt deer?”

  “The children...” Hatimu choked. After a several breaths he continued, “The young ones drive the animals into the hunting field. Only one entrance. Less chance of injured animals escaping.”

  “Must be hard to hunt that way in the snow moons,” Potts said.

  “We store dried fish for those times.” A small smile erased a few of Hatimu’s wrinkles. “But fish loses taste after many moons of snow.”

  “We will try your atlatl and darts.” Joe sighted down one of the darts. No curve marred its almost man-long length. Fletched with wild turkey feathers and tipped with finely knapped chert, it could bring down a mastodon if his old anthropology texts were correct. But only if one hit it.

  “And we will try your bent sticks.”

  “Joe.” Alita’s voice interrupted Joe’s response. She walked into the circle of chairs, her leather holster in her hands. “Samatu forgot about my gun.” She held it out to him.

  A small part of the ice in his gut melted as Joe set the atlatl and darts aside and accepted her Ruger revolver. “Thanks. This is great.” It was small caliber but had great accuracy. They were down to three guns: this small target pistol plus the rifle and revolver that Brent had had with him while on watch. Four if one bothered to count the flintlock.

  Joe turned toward the river. Brent had returned to the watchtower after they’d realized that Samatu was long gone. And was probably crucifying himself for not detecting his escape. But it had been a moonless night.

  Zoey hadn’t even raised an alarm. She knew Samatu. And from the splattered mud around the intruder’s prints, the warrior had probably been covered in mud to mask his scent.

  “Ammunition?” Joe asked Alita.

  “I have all the small cartridges. I took them back to my hut. I wanted to count them.” Her face lit with a brief smile. Then she looked down.

  “That’s a relief.” He glanced toward Kristi’s hut. Alita had been working with Kristi on not only medicine but also numbers.