He took out his map and compass, looked at the setting sun and knew where he had to go.
Alton didn’t get very far before he had to stop. His main priority now was starting a fire. No matter who saw him he had to get warm. He found a nice spot, the canopy under a large Scotch pine, and with scraps he collected nearby he quickly had a fire going. After only a few moments he passed out.
He awoke just before dawn and didn’t feel much better. He ate some and was quickly moving again. Using his compass and map, he finally arrived at his destination mid-morning, a small church there by the road.
Setting up a modest observation post about two hundred meters south, he settled in and waited.
After a short while he noticed two sets of footprints in the snow, one of a boy and the other a man, he assumed James and Cornwell had been banished out in the cold.
But as he observed a while longer he could see Cornwell there inside the building. Now he wondered who left with James and where they might be going.
After another twenty minutes of observing, he could see the only men left were Cornwell, Martinelli, and D’Cruz. Alton knew he could kill one of them in the door but couldn’t wait the rest out. He would never get a chance at the other two. Alton thought about it a while, took out his map and checked his compass again.
On his way once more, he tried to make the best time he could, but now with a plan.
Later that afternoon, he came into view of a large water tower and knew the house couldn’t be too much farther.
Alton quietly crept up as close as he could, without setting off one of the many traps he found. He laid out his blanket on the new snow and started working on the plan already there in his mind.
Observing with his rifle scope, he could see the truck had been pulled off the poles and the fence repaired, as best it could. Inside the perimeter he could see most of the enemy, although there were several on patrol outside the fence line. He assumed they were also using the spider holes he helped construct.
As he watched the old farmhouse, he could see several of the enemy there in the yard. Two were waiting for their turn with the barber, standing on the front porch with his current customer sitting on a stool. On the steps another man seemed to be applying tattoos and had a few waiting in line. A group of seven sat on a large tarp out in the yard, beside them a carton of something Alton couldn’t identify.
Alton studied them a while and now his plan was ready; it wasn’t perfect but he was feeling weaker by the hour, so he had no more time to waste.
Pulling the Savage rifle to his shoulder, he took precise aim on the truck out in the yard. He squeezed the trigger, the rifle bucked in his hands and a second later the front tire exploded. He took aim again and this time the back tire was destroyed in his scope.
By now gunfire could be heard coming from his former home.
Alton reloaded, killing one of the barber’s customers standing on the porch. He continued firing and reloading until the rifle’s ammunition was exhausted, managing to kill the only two serious marksmen the enemy had. With the rifle he also put down a lone man watching from the front window. Alton could only hope it was the man in charge. John Alton knew he could have easily done much more damage, if he wanted to, but he needed most of them alive.
The mob was now stirring as he could hear the sound of their fury only growing louder. A group numbering over forty charged out the gate; the sound of their rage made him feel real fear.
Alton aimed again, firing one last time. He didn’t hit a thing and he didn’t care; it wasn’t needed by now. He threw the rifle down in the snow; it was empty and had served its purpose.
He got back up, started moving as fast as he could, that sound of the enraged pack quickly coming up from behind him.
Martinelli was standing in the front doorway watching the road, Cornwell and D’Cruz were both lightly napping on the floor.
At last Martinelli spoke, if only for himself, “I wish Rob would hurry up ... and where in the hell are McCain and Rudd? I want to get moving.” He gazed across the room and saw a human tongue, shriveled up and in a puddle of nearly dried blood, and then the pew where he had his fun. “This place gives me the creeps.”
He looked out the door again and suddenly from behind heard the sound of heavy boots on the hardwood floor. Martinelli turned just in time to see John Alton coming right at him from across the room.
Alton slowed for only a second, as if looking for someone, and then jumped over Cornwell and D’Cruz laying there on the floor. Before Martinelli could even lift his gun up, Alton hit him head on, slamming him against the wall. He leapt out the front door and just kept running.
By now Cornwell was on his feet and helping D’Cruz get up too, “Who the hell was that?!”
Martinelli picked himself off the floor and thought he might be in shock. “I think it was Alton!”
“Alton?!”
Martinelli snatched his rifle off the floor, “Yeah ... you think we should go after him?”
Cornwell grabbed up his rifle too, “We better, if we don’t want to be in trouble with the boss again.”
Just as the three of them made it to the door they could hear a terrifying noise coming from behind them. Not too far off over the hill came a sound they had heard before ... one they hoped to never hear again.
Chapter Eleven
Rob continued to drag her through the snow, the girl kicking, biting, and fighting every inch of the way.
As they made their way closer, the sun was near to setting. A strong gale was bringing another heavy snow that was now starting to fall.
When they got their first good look, Rob let her go and just stared at them, the girl stood there in shock too.
Robert slowly came closer, stunned and staggering through the front yard. James was following right behind him, the two dumbfounded with the horror of what they saw.
Around them were twenty-two men, all stripped naked and scattered about the church yard, the majority having gunshot wounds. Most were dead but the low groans of a few could still be heard over the sound of the approaching storm.
The yard of the church was littered with anonymous bodies, most already corpses, the others soon would be. They didn’t recognize any, except two faces.
Cornwell was hanging in the front door of the church, right under the steeple. His hands were nailed to the top of the doorframe and he had a look on his face neither Rob nor James would ever forget. Like all the others, he had no clothes. His whole body was covered with deep puncture wounds. It appeared someone used him for bayonet practice and did a thorough job of it.
Martinelli was laying out in the front yard and was much the same, the same kind of holes all over his body. It appeared his death was just as unpleasant as Cornwell’s but he also had the privilege of being the first.
They found D’Cruz around back, or at least they thought it was; he was stripped too and his head was gone. If it wasn’t for his wounded arm they couldn’t have been sure it was him at all. From the amount of blood, Rob was certain he was beheaded alive.
For only the second time since she had known him, James could hear panic in Rob’s voice. “Let’s get out of here, before they come back.”
The both of them came around the building and Alton stood there in the front yard of the church.
Rob instantly fired his rifle from the hip and hit Alton in the chest. At the same time Alton ran right at him, unloading his M4 as he closed the distance between them to nothing.
Alton hit him with all the strength he had left and both plunged to the ground.
They rolled around a few moments, a single mass toiling, covered with snow and blood. Suddenly Rob broke free and was back on his feet again. He stood up; his right arm was bloody, hanging there lifeless by his side. He tried to reach for his revolver using his weak hand.
Alton pulled the pistol from its holster and started shooting from the ground. But his hand was badly shaking and he was firing wildly; he didn’t even come close to
hitting his former boss.
Rob ran around the back of the church and right for the woods as Alton continued to fire. He left a heavy trail of blood behind him.
This entire time James stood there stunned, unable to speak or move. When the gunfire ended, the trance was broken and she came to Alton’s side.
The girl quickly approached her friend, a smile on her face, “You’re alive. Rob told me you died.”
Alton lay there, bloodied and broken. It was obvious, at least to him, that his time had come. “Rob has been known to lie, at times. I was hoping you wouldn’t come back ... but at least you missed the party.” Alton managed a small laugh as he continued to gasp for air. “James, you’re going to have to go. Take the Beretta, there’s still a few rounds left. My pack is behind that truck just down the road. Take it, there’s some food in it and some other things you’re going to need to survive.” He stopped to catch his breath again. “You need to go, James, now, before Rob finds enough guts to come back.”
She tried to get Alton to sit up, “Please get up. I’m not going anywhere without you.”
By now the sun was down over the horizon and darkness was quickly falling. The snow began to fall heavily on the ground. It started collecting on Alton’s clothes.
She tried to get him up again, “John, please get up. Come on, you can do it, at least try.”
Alton was struggling with every breath now, “I’m all used up, I can’t go. I couldn’t walk ten steps. You have to go, James. You have to find a place where you can belong, not here with guys like us.”
Suddenly there was a loud blast behind the girl and she instinctively jumped. Alton’s face exploded, the bullet taking his lower jaw completely off. Instantly John was gone and she was covered in his gore. She turned to see Rob, bracing himself and his revolver on the back corner of the church, taking aim with his weak arm again. He fired once more and she could feel the bullet as it went right by her.
She got up and took off running for the truck. In a moment there was another shot, and another, but neither were close. She found Alton’s pack and started running again as she kept her head down low.
James ran into the black void, the heavy snow coming down all around her, with no idea where to go.
Chapter Twelve
James kept running most of the night, keeping down and trying to stay close to cover, only making short stops occasionally to catch her breath. She was exhausted, cold and hungry, and had no idea where she was going. There was no time for mourning, she had to concentrate on staying alive right now.
It had been hours since she was shot at and the snow kept piling up. She didn’t think Rob followed but couldn’t take that chance. The girl also knew she couldn’t survive much longer out in the cold.
As she made her way through the snow and half frozen mud, she looked for shelter but nothing was to be found. There had been a couple of vehicles by the road but all the windows were broken out.
Eventually James couldn’t stand it anymore. She looked around for the nearest tree, fuel for a fire to keep her alive. She had to get warm, even if Rob tracked her down.
She made it to the nearest old tree and started collecting fallen branches. As she kneeled on the ground, stacking them for a fire, the girl noticed something far off, there in the distance.
It was just a small speck of light hanging there in the blackness. Although it wasn’t much, it told her all she needed to know. The speck told her there was someone out there in the dark, someone with light and heat, maybe someone that could help her stay alive.
The girl started trudging through the snow as it only got deeper, towards that single small hope she might survive.
She continued her marching, frequently falling to the ground. The small spot of light began to grow, but slowly. But her strength was fading and nearly gone now; nonetheless, she kept going as long as she could. At long last she fell to the ground and this time didn’t have the strength to get up again.
James lay there numb from the cold, staring at the spot of light not too far off, and the girl knew it was her time to die.
Chapter Thirteen
She awoke to the sound of good people talking and laughing, a sound so wonderful to hear. Her hands felt the blanket that covered her. She was in a warm bed, the late morning sun shone down of her face. For a moment she thought it might be heaven. The sound of a woman’s voice nearby quickly drew her attention.
“She’s up.” A woman came into the room. She was in her early forties, a little thin but appeared healthy otherwise. Her long light chestnut hair had one thin line of white there at the temple and it was held in a loose ponytail. The woman came to her side and sat down next to the bed.
“How are you feeling?”
Several strangers, three men, three women, and a boy holding a tot came near the door. They all stopped to gape at their visitor from just outside the room. All of the adults seemed a little thin but both children looked well cared for.
The woman asked again, “How are you feeling, honey?”
At last the girl found her voice as she stared up at this stranger. She had no idea where she might be or who this woman was. “I’m okay.”
“Can you feel your fingers and toes?”
She felt her fingertips with her thumb, “Yes, they seem fine.”
“I didn’t think you had frostbite but I wanted to make sure. What’s your name?”
The question brought a moment of confusion, and then clarity came. “James ... I ... I mean, Hannah. My name is Hannah Leightman.” She smiled, it was almost a revelation, “My name is Hannah Leightman.”
“Well, Hannah Leightman, my name is Carol Avery. I’m glad to meet you. Where ...”
Hannah had something she wanted to confess right away, “I’m a girl. I want you to know that. I’m not a boy, I’m a girl, and my name is Hannah Leightman.”
“Okay ...”
“I’m a girl.”
“All right, Hannah, but you didn’t need to tell me. I could see that myself.” With her eyes Carol indicated there was something under the girl’s blanket she needed to see.
Hannah lifted the blanket, her rotten old clothes were gone and replaced by a clean and warm flannel sleeping gown.
“You were filthy when Frank found you. You were covered with blood ... and stuff. It was all over your face and your clothes. It was even in your hair.”
“Oh ... yes, I forgot.”
“I had to undress you, to get you cleaned up. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No ... thank you for saving me. I thought I was going to die.”
“You’re welcome, Hannah ...,” Carol paused for a moment then went on with a question that had to be asked. “That blood, it wasn’t yours, was it?”
The girl tried to speak, but instead starting crying. Carol moved over to the bed and reached out, taking the child in her arms. “No. It was John’s. He was my friend and Rob killed him. Then he tried to kill me ...” The girl struggled to continue, but Hannah began sobbing so loudly she couldn’t be understood anymore.
Carol held her tighter, “It’s okay, Hannah, you’re safe here.”
The girl wept uncontrollably and it took several minutes before she was coherent again. At last she regained some composure, “I’m sorry,” Hannah blotted her eyes with the cuff of her gown, “You must think I’m a little baby or something.”
Carol at last lessened her hold. “No, we don’t think that, Hannah. It’s clear you’ve been through a lot. Talk about it, if you want to.”
“No, not now, maybe sometime though.”
“All right, but promise me that when you do need to talk about it, you will. Don’t hold it inside. If you don’t want to talk to me, at least talk to someone.”
“Okay ...”
“You feel up to meeting the rest of us?”
The girl looked back to the door; the same group was still watching her from the outside. They were wearing a differing collection of friendly or awkward smiles.
S
he wiped her eyes again, “Okay ...”
Carol waved them in, “Come on in, guys,” and the group poured through the doorway a few at a time.
There was Frank, he was Carol’s husband and this old farmhouse belonged to the two of them. Like his wife, he was around forty, although his dark brown hair had the gray of a man ten years older. He was of normal height but appeared quite gangly.
Brigid and Jason Henderson came in behind Frank. They looked to be in their mid-thirties but with their affable faces they might have been older, the girl just couldn’t tell. But no matter their age, they were honestly friendly; they were like those good-natured neighbors everyone used to know.
A tall, attractive couple was the next to step inside. They were in their early forties too and brought their only son. Bohdan and Vira Hubenko immigrated here from Ukraine in 1995; they were both twenty at the time. They originally settled in Boston but moved to Columbus nearly ten years ago. After it all came apart they ended up here. Vira was a natural blonde beauty with stunning blue eyes; she might have been a model in another life. Bohdan was good looking too, although his appearance was slightly marred from some light acne scaring there on his cheeks. Both spoke perfect English through their heavy east European accents. Their son was named Adam, he just turned nine and had his mother’s hair and eyes. He was born in Ohio and looked just like the all-American boy that he was.
Danielle Dawson was the last through the door and she brought with her a beautiful one-year-old boy. She was alone; her husband was killed before their child was even born. Danielle was twenty-three and kept her striking red hair cropped short, although it wasn’t quite as harsh as Hannah’s was. She introduced the joy of her life and told the girl his name was Nicholas as she at last managed to get him to smile.
Joshua (Book 2): Traveler Page 15