by E. E. Borton
“Keep moving, Alex. That’s enough talking.”
We circumvented the town and approached the square from the south. Alex’s group would be on the north side either attacking or retreating. When we were half a mile away, I saw the glow of burning buildings. A few shots rang out followed by the sound of distant screams. I tied my prisoner to a tree and made my way closer to the square.
It didn’t take long for me to realize the Lafayette locals had lost the town. I climbed to the roof of a building two blocks from the battleground. Looking through my scope, I saw a woman being dragged by her hair across the courtyard. It was Tammy. She was slung into a group of several others being held at gunpoint by Alex’s men.
On the other side of the courtyard bodies were being stacked. The group was showing no mercy as I watched them execute four locals who were on their knees facing a wall. I eased my finger from the guard to the trigger.
Clenching my teeth, I turned away from the scope. There were too many of them. I climbed off the roof, heading back to Alex.
I don’t remember the walk back. I don’t remember how many times I stabbed him. I only remember the look in his eyes as I stood over him, watching him take his last breath.
Chapter 27
Flies
I hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was putting Lafayette as far behind me as possible. Nothing good came from that town. Nothing good came from trying to help people who couldn’t help themselves. That was enough of that shit.
Images of slaughtering Alex – defenseless and tied to a tree – circled my mind like vultures waiting for the end of me. I tried putting things in perspective, knowing he did the same thing to dozens of people if not more. Like a kid, I kept telling myself that he started it. He deserved to die like that. In spite of his arguments that it was this new world that forced him to become a monster in order to survive, I felt no remorse.
I felt nothing.
My anger was being fed from so many different sources that I couldn’t focus on any of them. I was pissed at everything. It’s what propelled my legs, allowing me to reach my next destination long before the sun started setting. I thought about continuing, but the pain in my ribs reminded me that I needed to rest.
As I passed the sign and entered Cloudland Canyon State Park, my thoughts drifted to Sam. She was as tough as any man I knew, but she was still a woman. The first time I brought her here camping, I remember her standing in a clearing that I told her was going to be our home for the next two days. My declaration was followed by a confused stare and then pursed lips. She was not a happy camper.
Her interpretation of camping was something along the lines of a cabin in the woods with electricity and running water. Standing on bare earth under a north Georgia sky, we discovered our definitions were on opposite ends of the spectrum. I wanted to disconnect from the modern world and live as simply as possible for the weekend. She was looking for an outlet to plug in her hair dryer. (Yes, she packed a hair dryer.)
To her credit she allowed me to set up our campsite without making a break for civilization. Knowing she was a novice, I made sure our vehicle was an easy walk away. It allowed me to bring more gear than I would carry if I were by myself.
After I assembled the massive tent and cots to raise our sleeping bags off the ground, built a fire, and unfolded our chairs, she exhaled with a smile. The bare earth took on a more pleasing and familiar appearance for the city slicker. As she prepared our dinner over a portable grill, I gathered more firewood and pulled the mini-bar next to our chairs. After we ate our fill I took her hand, walking the short distance to the best view in the park.
It was early fall, the air was cool, and the squadrons of gnats and mosquitos spared us their company. When we stepped out of the woods and onto a granite ledge overlooking the canyon, she squeezed my hand, pulling herself closer to my side. (It may have had more to do with the dizzying height than the romance of the moment.) Her eyes grew wide, taking in the scene that she had no idea existed in Georgia. I remember her telling me it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. I remember telling her that she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
Looking down at my blood-stained hands, reality pushed the bittersweet memory of camping with Sam out of my head. I still had to cover four miles to the row of cabins perched on the edge of the canyon. I hoped that anyone occupying the rentals when the power went out would’ve left long ago for the familiarity of their homes.
Ever since I entered the park, I hadn’t seen or heard a soul. I took that as a good sign as I approached the first cabin. The better sign was seeing only one vehicle parked at the last of the four rentals on the dead-end driveway. I concealed myself in the woods across the road, waiting for the sun to set.
From my vantage point I could observe all four of them. I focused most of my attention on the cabin with the vehicle. As the sun dropped behind the canyon, there were no indications that any of them were occupied. When darkness started its descent, there were no warm glows from cooking fires, lanterns, or candles. I decided to wait a little longer before moving closer. I needed to let my eyes adjust to the low light of the rising moon. I also had nothing but time.
When my lids grew heavy I made the decision to clear the first building. I was working on thirty-six hours with no sleep, but the adrenaline coursing through my veins momentarily cast aside the exhaustion. After peering into each window, I jiggled the handle on the back door of the first rental. It gave way, granting me a quiet entry.
I had a pocket full of ChemLights given to me by Trevor before I went looking for his daughter in Lafayette, but they were too valuable to use clearing an unsecured room. It put me at a disadvantage if someone was hiding under a table in the shadows with a weapon, but there was still enough twilight for me to see movement inside. In the first cabin there was none. It was the same with the other two down the line.
As I jiggled the handle on the last cabin, it didn’t give. I made another round outside the building, peeking through each window, trying to verify there was nobody inside. When I was comfortable there wasn’t, I politely knocked on the door and announced my presence. Stepping to the side to avoid any buckshot coming through, I waited a few moments before using the pry bar. As the lock popped I raised my shotgun. I called out again, receiving no response. As I lifted my foot to walk inside, I was punched in the face by the stench of decomposing flesh.
Knowing the condition of the occupant, I still had to clear the cabin. Covering my nose and mouth, I decided the expense of using a ChemLight was acceptable. Squeezing the plastic tube, I felt the snap of the capsule within. Shaking it to thoroughly mix the chemicals, a bright orange glow illuminated the room.
Looking down the short hallway, I found the source of the odor. It wasn’t difficult to determine the color of the walls because of the orange light; it was difficult because they were wallpapered with insects. It was like a scene out of Amityville Horror.
He was lying on his back, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. Judging from the level of decomposition, he had been dead for a few weeks. Noticing a bulge under the skin on his chest, I assumed he was another of the countless victims of 8:13. Like the battery in my watch, it was probably the exact moment the battery in his pacemaker died.
After clearing the other rooms of the cabin, gathering canned food and any other supplies I could use, I left him in peace. I decided to take shelter for the evening in the rental furthest away from the smell of nature taking its course. (It didn’t have the same lingering effect on me as burning flesh, but it was damn close.)
I managed to collect several gallons of water from the cabins – using most of it to wash the blood off my hands and out of my clothes – and enjoyed a meal of ravioli and spaghetti with meatballs by the glow of the ChemLight. When I finished I began the usual preparations to secure my living space for the evening. There was a small bedroom in the back corner of the cabin with a window high enough off the ground to m
ake it difficult to climb, but low enough for me to jump out if need be.
As tired as I was, I wasn’t ready to fall asleep. I pulled a chair from inside the cabin out onto the deck. With my hands behind my head, I leaned back, propping my feet up on a small table. I figured a few minutes of stargazing might help clear my head before I hit the sack. As I looked up I heard footsteps coming around the side of the cabin. I didn’t need to see who it was. I already knew.
“Mind some company?” asked Earl.
“Not at all,” I said. “It’s been a while.”
“Yep, it has been,” replied Earl. “You been kinda busy lately, though. I didn’t wanna distract you from your business.”
“My business?”
“Liberatin’ folks,” said Earl. “And, you know, thinning the herd again.”
“The herd seems to be getting bigger, my friend.”
“It is. But you’ve been doin’ some good work out there. That last one, what was his name?”
“Alex.”
“Yeah, that’s right, Alex. He got in your head a little bit, didn’t he?”
“A little,” I said. “But not enough to save his life.”
“You feel bad about killin’ a man tied to a tree?”
“Should I?”
“Don’t be answering a question with a question now. Do you feel bad about what you did?”
“I didn’t feel anything. Still don’t.”
“Yes, you do. You’re angry. Angry is a feeling.”
“I’m not angry. I’m just tired.”
“Tired of what?”
“Helping people who aren’t going to make it anyway,” I said. “All I’ve been doing is prolonging the inevitable. None of us are going to make it, Earl. Just like you didn’t.”
“So why don’t you just end it now? Put one of those pistols to your head and join us.”
“I’m not the suicide type. My end is coming soon enough.”
“You know, Sam wanted to come with me,” said Earl. “But she thinks you don’t wanna see her. She thinks you’re mad at her.”
“Why would I be mad at her?” I asked, taking down my feet and leaning forward in my chair. “I mean, she almost got me killed again, telling me to do the right thing and help Bud’s family. I don’t need to commit suicide. I’ve got Sam in my head to do it for me.”
“Them are some harsh words,” said Earl, walking up onto the deck. “I know you don’t mean ‘em.”
“Of course I do,” I replied. “She’s pointed me in the wrong direction for every decision I’ve had to make. She’s confusing the hell out of me, telling me to do everything I can to survive, but then drops me in the middle of every shitstorm I come across. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there are a lot of them out there, and they’re getting worse every day.”
“No argument from me there, son,” said Earl. “It ain’t gonna get no better anytime soon either. But like I told you before, it matters what we do down here so we can be judged when the end comes.”
“This is the end, Earl.”
“No, it ain’t. This is the beginning. You’ve had to do some horrible things, but they needed doin’. It doesn’t matter how Alex was killed. It just matters that he was. You still can’t see that yet?”
“I see lots of things. What I don’t see is good people winning the battles. Is that the new beginning you’re talking about? Good people living in fear, simply waiting to be brutalized or murdered? Is that how your God is going to let this play out?”
“Why don’t you ask Alex how that worked out for him? You know, winning a battle. Oh, that’s right, he didn’t win. You did.”
“So that makes me the good guy?”
“I ain’t sayin’ you’re all good, but I am sayin’ you are good at making the bad guys lose.”
Chapter 28
(Day 14)
Homecoming
It was difficult to judge when I awoke, but I figured I had slept for close to fourteen hours. The sun was hidden behind a blanket of dark grey clouds. I chose to ignore the signs of heavy rain and attempt to trek the last eleven miles to my parents’ house. All I wanted to do was walk through that door, drop my pack, and start my life on the mountain.
After eating my breakfast from a can, I stood on the back deck, taking in the serenity of the canyon. The moment of peace was broken when the wind changed direction, bringing the smell of death from the last cabin on the row. I didn’t need the reminder that things had changed, but it motivated me to start the last leg of my journey as quickly as possible.
Stepping off the deck, I made my way down to the start of the trail that would take me to the canyon floor. It was a three mile hike from the cabin to the north exit of the park, but it was a brutal three miles. Getting down to the creek and waterfalls would be easy. Hiking up and out the other side with a full pack would take more than two hours.
Looking down the first set of stairs on the trail, (all 279 steps), my mind drifted back to my camping date with Sam. I remembered the excitement on her face as she bolted down the stairs. I told her to be careful because most of the path stayed damp and slippery, but she didn’t pay any attention to my warning.
When she went down over a rise, my heart stopped. She couldn’t have picked a more dangerous place to lose her footing. In front of her was the second long set of stairs. Off the narrowest part of the trail to her side, there was a rocky ledge that would send her all the way down to the creek. I didn’t take a breath until I saw her lying on her back with her arms extended, reaching for the sky. She was laughing.
I stood over her with a scowl. I remember her reaching for me, asking why I didn’t tell her it was slippery. But what I remembered most were those few seconds of devastating panic, thinking she was in trouble or hurt. Seeing her embarrassment, watching her smile as she wiped the dirt off her pants, I knew I never wanted to see that beautiful face in pain. I would do whatever it took to protect her. I never failed so completely in my life.
“Why didn’t you tell me it was slick?” asked Sam, coming out of my thoughts, appearing beside me on the trail. “I could’ve gone over, you know.”
“I did tell you,” I said. “But you ignored me. You were like a kid with ADD.”
“I know,” said Sam, taking my hand, continuing our walk. “That was such a good day. The whole weekend was amazing. Well, except for the peeing in the woods thing. That I could’ve done without. All I could think about was a snake biting me on my ass. Would you have sucked the poison out?”
“Of course,” I replied.
“Aw, you are my sweet boy,” said Sam, squeezing my hand, smiling.
“It’s good to see you,” I said, smiling back. “Good memories here, huh?”
“The best,” said Sam. “So you’re not mad at me?”
“I was,” I said. “Not anymore. I was never able to stay mad at you for anything. It’s even harder now seeing how I let you down.”
“Is that a joke?” asked Sam, cocking her head. “You’ve never let me down. Not once.”
“I let them hurt you,” I said. “I let those cowards rape and kill you.”
“Sweetheart, that had nothing to do with you,” said Sam, stopping me. “Look at me. It wasn’t your fault. None of it was your fault. It just happened. I know that if you were there, you would’ve fought them to the death. Either theirs or yours. I know you never would’ve given up fighting for me. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I don’t understand any of it, Sam. I just know that I miss you so much it’s hard for me to take a breath. No, I don’t understand anything. Not then and not now. None of this makes sense.”
“Do you know what does?”
“Please, tell me.”
“How hard you fight for them.”
“For who?”
“All of them,” said Sam. “Earl, Hope and her girls, Bud’s family, and the others in Lafayette. All of them.”
“I’m not fighting for them, Sam. I’m fighting for you.”
/> “It doesn’t matter what your motivation is, baby. All that matters is that you try to make things right again. You try to help those who need it the most. And the ways things are now, help doesn’t come often.”
“Come on, Sam. Earl is dead, I abandoned Hope, and Lafayette was overrun by murderers. How can you say I fought for them? I did the best I could do, but it wasn’t enough. I failed you and I failed all of them. Good guys aren’t going to win this fight.”
“On this earth now, there are clear lines between good and evil,” said Sam. “Good isn’t always going to win, but what makes you different is that you don’t stop trying. You don’t give up.
“You’re a good man and you have the heart of a lion. You’ve earned the right to be happy and live the rest of your life that way. You made sure it was the way I lived the rest of mine.”
“You’re starting to sound like Earl,” I said, forcing a smile. “He thinks I can change the world. We all know I can’t.”
“No, you can’t,” said Sam. “Not by yourself.”
“Look around you, angel. There’s nobody else out here. It’s just me and my ghosts.”
“No offense taken,” said Sam, resuming our walk. “Do you know why I blew you a kiss goodbye when you were with Hope on the porch?”
“I have my theories,” I said.
“It’s because I am a ghost. If you would’ve stayed with her, that might have been the place where you could’ve stopped being alone. She’s real. She’s not a ghost.”
“She may have been real, but what she felt for me wasn’t,” I said. “She would’ve clung on to anyone that darkened her door. As soon as her brother-in-law showed up, I was old news.”