Pedestals of Ash

by Joe Nobody

  The expression on the man’s face was one of bitter sadness. He looked at Bishop and nodded his understanding. As they walked away from the display, Bishop noticed he looked back several times as if committing the image to memory.

  They hadn’t traveled far when Bishop heard the rhythmic pounding of running footsteps. In a blur, Bishop pivoted, grabbed the president, and roughly pushed him into a doorway. Bishop squeezed into the entrance with him, just as two men rounded the corner. Both of them were looking over their shoulders, as if they were being chased by a crazed T-Rex, searching for a meal. For a moment, it looked like they were going to pass by without even noticing the two travelers, but one fellow was out of wind and stopped right in the middle of the street to catch his breath. The exhausted runner stood bent over, his hands resting on his knees while drawing in several lungs full of air. His buddy stopped a few feet away to wait on his out of shape friend. It was pure chance that he glanced up and looked straight at Bishop and the president.

  Bishop now understood why Sarah referred to these men as ghoulish. Their hair was uncut and filthy, resulting in shoulder-length manes that made their heads appear misshapen. Their facial hair was in no better condition, which added to the effect. The untrimmed beards made the dark circles under their eyes even more prominent, sunken, and hollow. Their foreheads had been darkened by the sun and were streaked with dirt and sweat. The skin at the corner of their eyes was wrinkled with deep crevices, probably a combination of sun and unwashed skin as well. Bishop could see the one man’s hands clearly. His fingernails were long and dirty black, resembling the claws of a bird. The combined effect was similar to what Bishop had seen soldiers do with camouflage face paint, but dark - almost evil looking. To a young girl being hunted by these guys, they no doubt did appear as ghouls.

  Bishop doubted either man would’ve been first prize at his high school prom, even when bathing and haircuts were commonplace. Now, given Deacon Brown’s church controlled the water supply in the area, they more closely resembled pictures of Neanderthals he had seen in museums. “No,” thought Bishop, “that would be insulting the Neanderthals.” Bishop couldn’t help himself and mentally compared the two hairy beasts to images of Sasquatch. “No,” he thought again, “I doubt Bigfoot smells this bad.” These two what-ever-they-were had weapons though, and Bishop focused his attention there.

  At first, the breathless man just squinted at them, probably trying to determine who they were. His friend followed his gaze, and now both of them were trying to figure it out. Finally, out of breath and unable to carry on normal conversation, they looked at each other with a gesture of “Do you know them?” It took both men a second to conclude they weren’t looking at co-workers. Bishop noticed one of the men had on a soiled orange shirt with the faded letters “County Jail” still barely readable. The man raised his rifle, and Bishop dropped him before the weapon ever reached the man’s shoulder. Bishop started menacingly walking toward the second man, rifle pointed directly at his chest. “Move on,” he said in a cold voice. The guy kept glancing back and forth between Bishop and his now dead friend. Bishop repeated his message, “Move on.”

  Anyone could clearly see the anger starting to boil up in the man. He searched for the words and stammered, “…But...but…I can’t believe…you shot my…” before his voice trailed away.

  Bishop’s entire focus was on the man’s arms and hands. At this distance, it was unlikely either shooter would miss, and his only advantage was that his weapon was already up. His vision was so attuned to the man’s arms that Bishop could have probably counted the individual hairs had he wanted to do so. Don’t do it man, he thought, You can’t win. Just run away and live. The man’s arm muscles twitched, and the barrel of his shotgun start to rise. Bishop pulled the trigger again and again. Before the lifeless body even hit the street, Bishop spun around and began motioning for the stunned statesman to get moving. The duo ran for over a block, before slowing to allow the president to catch his breath. While the older man recuperated, his heart pounding in his throat, Bishop paced back and forth, his temper getting the best of him. “Why? Why did he do that? He made me kill him and for no good reason. Why?”

  The president’s answer stopped Bishop cold. “You killed his brother. Didn’t you realize that?”

  “How do you know they were brothers? How could you know that?”

  The old politician shook his head and sighed, “The resemblance was clear. I’ve been observing people for years, Bishop. I may not look at them tactically like you do, but my eye is still pretty keen. Blood is thicker than water they say, and every candidate learns quickly to recognize family. I could have told you the second you shot the first one that the second guy was going to seek revenge. I was wondering why you waited so long.”

  Bishop pretended to be checking his rifle, but was really mulling over the man’s words. He finally cleared his throat and responded, “Mr. President, taking a man’s life is never easy. Before I pulled that trigger I knew I would see his face at night for a long time. I will wonder who they were, how they got in this mess, and what their future would have been. I’ll think about their mother and wonder if she will ever know their fate. When you take a man’s life, you suddenly create a vacuum. All he was and will ever be is gone in a split second. I waited so long because I didn’t want to kill the second man – I wanted, prayed…would have even begged…for him just to turn and run away.”

  Bishop realized he was rambling and thought the man beside him most likely didn’t understand or care. He looked around and announced, “We’ve got to get going,” and started to move off. The president’s hand shot out and grabbed Bishop’s shoulder, stopping him. “Bishop, you did the right thing back there. I have more respect for you as a man because you feel this way, but never doubt that you did the right thing.”

  Bishop looked at the Commander in Chief’s eyes, seemingly wanting to say something, but didn’t. After a long pause, he mouthed the words “Thank you,” and then hurried off.

  Terri and Diana looked at each other and smiled when the sounds of Nick’s ambush reached the compound. He had told them what to expect, and early reports led both women to believe things had gone according to plan. As the blare from the second round of shooting reached their ears, looks of concern flashed across both their faces. Concern turned to outright worry when Nick didn’t return in a reasonable amount of time. Terri was in charge of the quick reaction force Nick had organized. Her first instinct was to gather up her men and go help. After waiting what seemed like hours for Nick’s team to return, she couldn’t wait any longer and pulled her group together. Soon, Terri was leading her fighters out of the compound with rescue on her mind.

  Hawk’s column was completely disrupted by the ambush. His men had scattered in all directions, with several small bands roaming the side streets of Alpha, unsure what to do next. Hawk himself seemed to be in shock at the experience and had become completely ineffective as a leader. While a few of the men banded together and stayed huddled around the now withdrawn man, the majority of his force was disoriented, disorganized and dispersed.

  Smokey’s group fared the encounter better. Despite his screaming for everyone to settle down and form up, several of his group had taken off to pursue Nick’s men. Smokey’s reaction to the confusion was to stay put. He had no idea who had just shot at them or what had happened to Hawk’s group. The last thing he wanted was to have one of his men panic and start shooting at people on their own side.

  It was right about then that the first stragglers from Hawk’s column bumbled into the army patrol. The fog of war ruled supreme as the small cluster of five criminals opened fire on the soldiers from the parking lot of a fast food restaurant. The shots were wild and high, and the soldiers reacted with the speed and skill of an experienced combat unit. Within a minute, all five of the former jailbirds were lying dead, their bodies lined up at the drive-thru window like customers waiting on a bucket of chicken.

  The small town of Alpha,
Texas became a confused cauldron of swirling gunfights. All over the city, small remnants of Smokey’s forces engaged with the infantry, Nick’s ambush party or Terri’s quick reaction force. Mass confusion ruled the field as plans had gone awry, making it difficult to distinguish friend from foe. Bishop was trying desperately to avoid all of the combatants and simply get the president to the church compound – if it still existed.

  Agent Powell was frustrated. To him, it seemed like random little waves of hostile people would shoot at them without reason. When the first member of their patrol fell from a gunshot to the head, the attitude of the soldiers around him changed from puzzlement to anger. It was an unfortunate college junior that received the blunt of the soldier’s aggression. The kid, semi-forced into service by Smokey’s thugs, came jogging around a building, carrying a scavenged shotgun primarily designed for duck hunting. Before the runner could even bring his weapon up, the three closest soldiers opened fire, causing the young man’s body to spastically jerk and fall to the ground. Powell’s concern was obvious, and he warned the lieutenant to get his men under control lest they shoot the president by accident. The word, calling for restraint, was passed up and down the line.

  Terri’s people were crossing behind a bank, heading toward an alleyway in the rear of the building. She was covering the corner when four men approached at high speed, brandishing rifles and looking desperate. For some reason, one of her men decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, yelling for them to stop and drop their weapons. That warning produced exactly the opposite reaction. One of the sprinters shouldered his weapon and began firing, while the others scattered for a building that once housed a tax accountant’s office. Sporadic shots were being exchanged between Terri’s team and the skinnies, when three more stragglers from Smokey’s column stumbled into the fight. Terri screamed for her people to pull back, and a running gunfight ensued for a couple of blocks. One of Terri’s men kicked in the door of a home and her group rushed inside, seeking to hide and avoid the attackers. It would have worked, but the last man in was spotted by the pursuing skinnies.

  Unknown to Terri, Nick was watching from across the street where his men had holed up in a veterinarian’s clinic. When the men chasing Terri formed up to assault her hiding place, Nick’s people opened fire and killed the attackers almost instantly. There was a stressful moment while the two different teams from the church identified each other, quickly followed by a joyful reunion. Everyone was all smiles and hugs except for Nick. He was none too happy that Terri had left the compound on his behalf. Terri soothed his flash of anger by telling him Diana had ordered her to come bring Nick’s group home.

  One of the men with Hawk tapped him on the shoulder and pointed. The ex-con looked over to see a man in helmet, full combat gear, carrying an AR type rifle, running down the street before disappearing from view. No sooner had that man left his vision, than another identically clad individual rose up and repeated the same basic action. When the third guy popped up and ran, it dawned on Hawk that a military unit was approaching his position. His first thought was The army is coming to put us back in jail.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here!”

  Hawk and his small band of men took off running in the general direction they thought Smokey was located. They had scampered a few blocks when they saw Smokey and a larger cluster of men gathered around an abandoned semitrailer. Smokey’s men almost shot Hawk’s crew as they barreled down the street, but fortunately one of the sentries recognized them.

  Hawk immediately ran to his old friend and reported, “We got to get the fuck out of here. There are army guys all over the place. I think they’ve come to put us back in the slammer.”

  Smokey looked at his best man and replied, “Show me.”

  In a few minutes, the two leaders returned to the gathered skinnies and announced that anyone who didn’t want to be arrested should move out; the army was in town. Most of the convicts decided to stay with Smokey, and the 15 men took off running in the opposite direction of the encroaching army unit.

  Bishop had progressed slowly, stalking from structure to structure, dragging the president along, trying desperately to avoid contact with anyone. He estimated they were within 10 blocks of the church when two men started shooting at him from a small park down the street. Bishop would have backtracked and circumvented the contact all together, but there were all sorts of skirmishes going on behind him. He decided there wasn’t any choice but to address the threat that lay directly between the compound and him. Forcefully instructing the president to stay put, he went out the side door of the house they had been hiding in and ran along a privacy fence bordering the backyard. It took him less than two minutes to flank the two men in the park. They had been so focused on watching his previous position they didn’t even notice his approaching from the side. As he drew closer, Bishop saw they were only kids, perhaps 14 or 15 years old at most. He could easily shoot them right where they stood, but lowered his rifle, not having the heart. Moving just a little further off angle, he maneuvered to a position directly behind the two teenagers and charged.

  The pounding of his boots on the ground alerted one of the youth, but it was too late. Bishop lowered his shoulder and literally knocked one young man into the other, both of them sprawling onto the ground in a heap. Before either could react, Bishop had their rifles out of reach and stood looking down at them with carbine at the ready.

  The two frightened boys looked up at Bishop with terror in their eyes, but made no move to escape. Bishop growled, “Where are your parents?”

  The older one responded in a weak voice, “They died in the gas cloud. We…we…we were hungry and couldn’t find any food. The guys from the jail said they would feed us if we would fight for them.”

  The other boy started crying and joined in, “We didn’t shoot anybody…honest we didn’t. I always aimed high when we went to the church.”

  Bishop tilted his head slightly and made his response as mean as possible, “Both of you little shits get up and get moving toward that church right now. Don’t go left, and don’t go right, but head straight for that church. I’m going to be there soon. If I don’t find you there, I’m going to come hunting for you.” Bishop pulled his fighting knife and showed the saucer-eyed boys the blade. “If I have to come hunt you down, I’ll skin you and eat you myself. NOW GET!”

  Bishop had to smile as he watched the two adolescents scurry away. After making sure they crossed the gardens without incident, he turned around and took a step back toward the president’s hiding place. Before his boot even touched the ground, grass and dirt erupted all around him, and he had to dive for cover behind a nearby tree.

  Smokey’s group had been rushing up the street when Hawk spotted Bishop. The second in command pointed the target out to three of his men, and they all fired at once. Bishop rolled behind an oak tree with a trunk three times the size of his torso. As more of Smokey’s men came rushing up, a hailstorm of bullets began to slam into the oak and surrounding turf. There was no way Bishop could even poke his head around to see who was shooting at him. The only thing he knew for sure was that given the number of rounds cracking past his head, there must be a hell of a lot of them. In less than a minute, all of Smokey’s men were firing at Bishop. When the boss asked what was going on, Hawk told him whom he had spotted. Smokey glanced from his man to the tree and back several times, before motioning for Hawk to follow him. The two men scooted off together, moving at an angle away from Bishop’s position and having thoughts of flanking him.

  Terri and Nick were working their way back to the church when a massive amount of gunfire erupted almost directly in front of them. The church’s defenders moved forward to get a better view of the battle. From their vantage, they could see several men shooting at someone apparently hiding behind a tree. The church’s men didn’t recognize any of the shooters, and hoped that meant they were on the other side. Nick’s people opened fire.

  Several of Smokey’s men jerked an
d fell on the opening volley. By the time they recovered, and went to ground, Smokey had heard the commotion and believed the army’s soldiers had caught up with the group he had left in the park. Smokey hesitated, torn between going after Bishop and making his escape. In the end, self-preservation won out, and Smokey momentarily forgot all about his grudge with Bishop.

  Bishop had no idea who rescued him from behind the tree, but he was thankful. When the fire directed at him changed direction, he wasted no time sprinting away, hurdling over a low stonewall fence that bordered the parking area for the gardens. He had seen Hawk and another guy split off from the skinnies and guessed they were trying to flank him. He bent down low and dashed behind the wall as fast as his feet would carry him. Bishop’s mind kept remembering Hawk’s blows to his head when he had been bound to the chair and his desire for revenge made him momentarily forget all about taking care of the president.

  After the last of Smokey’s men had surrendered, Terri decided to rest while Nick searched the prisoners. Across the street was a beautiful white Victorian home with a wide, shady front porch. There hanging from the roof was a wooden porch swing. The sight was just too tempting, and she made a beeline for the house. No sooner had she planted herself in the swing than a noise from the side yard put her on alert. She begrudgingly rose up and went around to the side of the home where thick oleander bushes lined the yard. The noise sounded again, and Terri could tell it was someone trying to hide a cough. She shouldered her rifle and made her voice sound as gruff as possible, “Come out with your hands up. Come out peaceful, or I’ll shoot you in those bushes.”

  The voice of an old man answered her, “Okay…okay…don’t shoot. I’m coming out.” An AR15 rifle flew from the bushes followed by a man in an U.S. Army uniform. At first glance, Terri thought the guy was a soldier, but she quickly ascertained he was far too old to be in the infantry. She thought, “There’s something familiar about his face. Where have I seen this guy before?”