I placed my right hand over the medallion that my mother had given me and cleared my head of all thoughts. As I began to breath slowly I felt a tingling throughout my body. It only lasted a second or two; I had never meditated before and didn’t know what I was doing. After a few minutes of nothing, I stopped trying to connect to the earth.
I looked around to pick out some landmarks before retrieving the map from my pack. I unrolled it and found my spot on it. Directly north of where I was, the yellow line on the map, that I was following became darker. Possibility of danger is close, I thought to myself. I studied the map, looking for a spot for my next rest, then I rolled it back up and returned it to my pack. I then pulled my gun from its faded holster, emptied the spent rounds and replaced them. I might need all six shots if danger is in the near future. After taking a sip from the bladder of water, I continued my journey.
I walked along, what I can only describe as a sunken road. It might have been a riverbed at one point, or even an actual road. Whatever the case might have been, it was flanked by ridges on either side; dry grass and packed dirt covered them. In the distance I could see greener grass and even tall trees which seemed to be sporadically placed on the horizon.
When I was a child, I would go out with my father and Amos as they explored the lands. While out exploring to the south east we came across a building that was falling to the ground. Inside the building there were paintings and artifacts from days past. One painting, above all others, caught my eye. It was of a lone man on a dirt road leaning against a rotting fence. This man had a large brimmed hat sitting cock-eyed on his head. Around his neck was loosely tied a red scarf that looked to be worn and tattered by years of use. His long leather coat was dusty and faded and he wore a gun belt with holstered revolvers on either hip. The expression on his face was heavy and looked as if he was carrying the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.
My father explained to me that the man in the painting was called a Cowboy, and it was men like him that tamed the west. They were largely responsible for settling the west and paving the way for progress. He told me about them driving large herds of cattle across the lands and how some of them were lone gunmen, or guns for hire; they were called Gunslingers. I was told that the red bandanna was placed over the nose and mouth to keep the dust that the cattle kicked up at bay, or simply to hide their faces when needed.
The image of that lone gun slinging Cowboy was seared into my memory that day along with what my father said about them being responsible for paving the way for progress. I too was to be responsible for progress and I decided that day, that I would be the modern-day Cowboy. I copied the look, I even made sure that I would have a revolver with a hip holster made for the quick-draw. I made a brimmed hat to look like the one in the painting and I even fashioned my gasmask to emulate the red bandanna over the lower part of the face. I was almost obsessed with the idea of being a cowboy, but I wanted people to look at a painting of me one day and tell their children that the man in the painting was responsible for paving the way for progress and giving his people a great life.
As I walked along the dusty sunken road, I truly felt like a lone Cowboy, walking to meet his destiny with brimmed hat and holstered revolver resting hip-side, ready for anything.
Something wasn’t right. As I walked, I began to feel like I was no longer alone on the sunken road. I released my weapon from its holster and held it firm. I didn’t grip it too tight, my hand would get tired and would not work when I needed it to. I heard rustling on the other side of the ridge about five or six yards ahead of me. I thumbed the hammer of my revolver and slowed my gate slightly. As I neared the spot where I heard the noise, I saw that the dirt and grass was disturbed on the ridge to my right. Footprints led up and over the top and I heard more rustling and heavy breathing that was muffled. Raiders, I thought to myself. From the disturbance in the dirt, it was impossible for me to determine how many raiders I was dealing with, but I could smell them, and it was too late to turn back, or go around.
Suddenly three raiders popped over the ridge and ran down to the road. They stood in the path with rifles aimed, I stopped, but felt no fear and no shock at their presence. The raiders were covered from head to toe, no flesh was showing. Their masks were made to suit them and instill fear in others. The one in the center was the largest of the three and had a leather mask that was shaped like a demonic skull with exaggerated features. There were large eye holes to let me see his pale green eyes. A stench radiated from the men and all three were twitching slightly; they probably didn’t even realize it. The skull-faced raider stepped forward and spoke with a crackling and dry voice, “Whatcha got in that there bag?”
I couldn’t help but stare down the barrel of his rifle as he spoke; I didn’t reply.
“The man asked you a question,” the raider to the left said. His mask was black with silver spikes protruding from the top and two larger spikes hanging from the chin of the mask. The mask muffled his voice with only small, thin slits over his mouth and two small holes where his nose should be.
I calmed myself and spoke firmly, “Nothing for you.”
Their shaking lead me to believe that they were more scared of me than I was of them. I knew I had the upper hand, I was calm and ready to fight if needed.
“Don’t play with us. You don’t know what we’re capable of,” skull face said. “We want whatever you have there,” he continued.
I stared into his eyes, they were blood shot and the flesh around them looked as if it had been melted away. He reached up and flipped a small lever on his mask which lowered two lenses behind the eye holes. Maybe he realized that I could see the fear in them and wanted to hide; it was too late. This match was already over, I just had to wait for them to realize it.
“The three of you should probably just turn around and go back to wherever it is you came from,” I said firmly.
“NOW!” skull face yelled. “Give it to me now or you die.”
His trembling became stronger and I knew it was time to make my move before they could. I raised my revolver, dropped to one knee and fired three rounds. The raiders fell, one by one, unable or unwilling to return fire. Skull Face fell to his knees, I could see my reflection in his lenses. I wasn’t sure if he was staring me down, or if he had already died. I waited, with my weapon aimed, for him to make a move. He dropped his rifle and slowly fell backward, kicking his feet out as he did. The sunken road became saturated with blood which flowed like rivers from the bodies. The stench from the raiders was overwhelming, it was as if they had already been dead and rotting for years.
I holstered my weapon and approached Skull Face slowly. I knelt beside him and picked up his rifle. I examined it a moment and realized there was no round in the chamber, nor in the magazine. I wondered what would drive an unarmed man to confront an armed one. I rummaged through his pockets and found nothing; the other two bodies yielded the same results. I returned to the first body and studied the face mask; I wanted to learn its secrets. The mask was made up of three parts, two in the back and a single piece of leather for the skull shape in front. The leather was old and worn, but solid and held its form.
I unhooked the straps on either side and lifted off the front half. His dead eyes stared at me as I looked at a raider for the first time. I had never seen one without his coverings on. His flesh was dry and porous with what looked to be burn scars covering most of his head. He had no hair to speak of, not even eye lashes. I lifted his head and removed the two back sections of the mask. It was impressively constructed and solid enough to withstand time. The mask had thin slits over the mouth and nose for breathing and a mesh over the open slots that covered the ears. I went over to examine the other two; I wanted to know if all raiders were scarred and disfigured, or if it was just him. To my horror, the other two looked like the first. It was as if they were born burned and scarred. Most likely an after effect of the radiation that was left in the bloodstream.
As bad as the raiders wer
e, I admired their design and construction skills. Their masks and their clothing were designed for the man wearing it. With these three, their clothes were a bit loose on them, which explains the desperation. They might not have eaten in weeks and their mouths were white with dryness.
I picked up the well-made mask, wrapped it in burlap to soften the smell and placed it in my pack before I set the pack down on the sunken road. I knew I had to hide the bodies, so I dragged them back over the ridge where they had been hiding and covered them with dirt. I knew I had to keep them off the trail, just in case the rest of their party came looking for them.
Walking away from the bodies, I had time to think. I realized that, no matter what happens, I would be making it home to my people, in one piece. Call it the ancestors, call it an almighty presence, call it mother earth, or call it magic; I had help. I knew that, whatever is was, I was watched over, protected and guided toward the future.
Suddenly I felt an over whelming pain that shot through my entire body like a bolt of lightning had just struck me. I fell to my knees from the pain and couldn’t hold back a scream. I felt the pain of a thousand deaths and heard sounds of a battle; shooting, yelling, screaming. The sound of children crying and their parents scrambling to save them. I saw Mathew and Mark on the wall of the camp, shooting and barking orders. I smelled the raider’s stench and saw dozens of them falling dead. I couldn’t stop the images, or the sounds from overwhelming me. I fell forward and hit my head on the ground as I watched my mother running across the camp with Karline close behind. They looked angry, but determined.
“Secure the western wall!” Mathew yelled.
“They’re inside the bowl!” Mark added, screaming as loud as he could.
Luke dropped to his knees and touched his forehead, belly, left shoulder, then right shoulder. He jumped back to his feet and ran toward the western wall and tower. “Get that kid inside,” he yelled.
Another bolt of lightning hit me, causing me to cry out in pain, then I saw my mother, wielding a rapid gun. Karline ran beside her, holding a similar weapon. A loud explosion followed by flying debris stopped them in their tracks. They raised their weapons and fired fiercely toward a gap in the eastern wall. “Cover the hole, damnit!” Karline yelled.
Flames shot out as another roaring explosion came from the front gates. Children cried out with agonizing screams, calling for their parents.
“Marshal, cover the medicine women.” The governor yelled as he ran to the front gates to join Mathew and Mark.
“Governor, hit the right flank,” Mathew said before he turned toward the inside of the camp, “We need more support on the western wall, damnit!” he yelled.
“Karline, cover me,” my mother yelled. She slung her weapon over her shoulder and ran straight for the opening in the eastern wall and dropped to her knees. With a wave of her hands, the raiders running for the wall were dropped in their tracks and dust flew up all around her. Then a group of men ran to the hole and covered it with large plates of metal and wood planks.
“The western wall!” Mathew yelled so loud that his voice cracked. “Luke can’t hold them on his own,” he continued.
The smell of blood was so thick I could taste the metal, as if I was actually there. I reached for my revolver, just instinct perhaps, but before I could get to it, I was hit once again with the jarring pain, it flipped me over on my back.
Gunfire was all around me, I was there, but not as a part of the action, I was a bystander. I watched as carnage took place all around me; I was helpless.
Bodies littered the ground around me and I heard the cries of others as they prayed to the ancestors for help. It was a help that was never going to come. Harold, the blacksmith, ran across the camp toward the western wall to help Luke and the few others who were fighting off raiders who had broken down a section of the wall. He fired as he joined Luke, “We can’t hold them for much longer,” he said.
“Do not fear,” Luke said. “For I am with you. Do not be dismayed.” Luke fired several times, hitting his target. “For I am your God,” he continued. “I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
Harold looked at Luke with confusion, then turned his attention back to the raiders, “I don’t know what you just said, but I hope your God is watching over us with the ancestors right now.”
Images began to flash again, bits and pieces of the battle. My mother and Karline fighting with everything they had. Mathew and the governor fighting on the wall with Mark and Fletcher. People falling dead on top of others who had died. I saw the governor falling from the wall.
Just as quick as the visions began, they were gone. The pain left my body and the sights and sounds of the fighting were gone, like they were never there. Everything was silent with a slight breeze. As I laid there on my back, I stared skyward and scanned the heavens. I don’t know what I was looking for, perhaps answers, or maybe I was just too exhausted and lacked the desire to move. What did I just see, I asked myself. I couldn’t be sure if it was a vision of the future, or if it was something that was happening at that moment. I contemplated running back to my home to make sure everyone was OK, but I trusted my mother, Karline and the Johnson brothers. I knew they would do whatever it took to protect the camp. If I left my journey, I would be letting my people down, I knew I was on the right path, but why, then did I have such a horrible vision?
Chapter Six
I made camp about three miles from the spot of my horrifying vision. I stopped before the sun had set for the night; I just couldn’t go on. I was tired and frightened by the vision, so I plopped down under a large tree and ate a meal. The images I was hit with were burned into my eyes. I couldn’t shake the feelings, the sounds, the smells or the sights. I fought with myself over leaving my journey and returning to my camp. I must have made up my mind, then changed it a thousand times.
I took a drink from the sheep’s bladder than pulled out my father’s death book; I thought there might be something in there to take my mind off the visions. I opened it to a random spot in the middle and hesitated a moment before reading. I don’t know why I hesitated, maybe I didn’t want to read something that would upset me.
We spent three days defending the camp from a large group of raiders.
Great, I thought to myself. I just had a horrible vision of a raider attack and earlier in the day, I had a run-in with three of them. I decided to keep reading anyway.
Two factions attacked us, one from the south and one from the west. We lost six men in the fight, and one woman. William Sanford and Harvey Wright fell on the first day while gathering the children. They got the children to safety before being hit with multiple rounds. Their sacrifice will be remembered. Edward Wright, brother to Harvey, fell on the morning of the second day. He was victim of an explosive that was tossed over the wall; three others were injured in the blast. Sam and Neil King lost their lives on the last day of fighting. Their sacrifice made it possible to end the battle.
Before Sam died, he returned to the camp with a captive raider for us to question. Eric Palmer and his wife Melony died of their wounds on the night of the last day.
The memories of the souls lost will be forever written in the scars of the valley people’s journey.
I remember the tales of that battle. It was because of that fight that the walls were thickened and built taller. The seven names are carved into the wall near the gates.
The raider that Sam captured proved to be of immense value to us. Raiders don’t feel pain, this we have known for quite some time. They have little sense of touch and no sense of smell, which is good, because they all stink. The radiation changed their kind generations ago, and not in a good way. Their flesh is thick and hard with pockmarks and what can only be described as scars.
Torture had no effect, so we had to find another way, but we didn’t know what that way was at first. Then he kept saying he was hungry and thirsty. It turns out that among their mutations is the need to consta
ntly feed and drink. Their metabolism is extremely hard working. That was our way to get answers, we would starve him; it didn’t take long to do that.
Here’s what we learned.
Each raider camp has a hierarchy with the ‘Head’ at the top and two ‘Hands’ just below him. The Head gets a cut of everything that is plundered, then the Hands take their cut. The ‘Workers’ get whatever is left over. Workers are the ones who do all the heavy lifting. They go out on the raids and steal and kill when they can.
Each territory, consisting of at least five camps, is controlled by the ‘Father’. The Father is leader of a ‘mega camp’ which holds up to three hundred raiders. All raiders in his territory answer to him and pay him a cut of the plunder.
The raiders might be smelly, rotten people who should be killed on sight, but they are well organized. They only have two punishments for breaking their laws; death and banishment. Banishment is seen as the worse of the two. Anyone who is banished usually starves to death in a matter of a day or two.
That made me think that the small group I ran in to earlier that day must have been banished. They looked thin and starved. That was good, it meant that nobody would go looking for them. I wondered at that point, if the group following the governor and his people were banished as well, but I couldn’t be that lucky. I knew that someone would go looking for them, and according to my painful vision, they might have already found the camp. I tried not to think of it as a current vision, but one of the future, something that happens after I return.
Jacob's Reign: A Journey Beyond Page 5