by A. M. White
Once we reached the body, we skirted the path to stay clear. The body belonged to someone unknown to us. I looked as we passed, to make sure. The victim had been shot in the back multiple times while he tried to escape. Face down, I made note that he had darker skin and appeared to be an older adult.
I reasoned with myself that he was the first body I would see today. Unknown and unburned, he would be the first step into countless others. I prepared to detach myself from them.
Timothy looked over his shoulder to make sure I had a grip on the situation. Even now, I seemed to be a priority to him. I was grateful for him being so protective of me. If I was going to do this, I had to prove to him that I was capable and a worthy companion to take on the moles.
Timothy was from below and had better knowledge of what the soldiers could do. If we could still take on the mission to break the machines for good, I needed to be an asset. I couldn’t give up on being a part of that.
The further we crept, the thicker the smell of smoke became, mixed with the pungent odor of burned bodies. My stomach twisted.
At the place where the first hut had been, only a few boards remained. The rest was strewn on the ground and smoldered in a heap of coals. Not much else was identifiable. No bodies, meant they had escaped or been captured.
Since the hut was close to the beach, I hoped they had heard the raid and made it out before it was upon them. I noticed that the soldier Timothy shot was no longer at the spot he fell.
The next structure was also badly burned. A few papers had been dropped at the edge of the fire. Timothy rushed over and pulled the papers from the coals. He threw them to my feet and I stomped out the small flames. He picked them up and held them out for me to see. It appeared to be a journal, with entries as recent as the last few days. Timothy folded the paper and pushed them into his back pocket.
We hid behind a thick section of brush that blocked the rest of the village from view. These two huts were blocked off from the busier part of it all. Timothy held his closed fist over his shoulder; a sign to wait. He peeked through some branches quickly, to make sure we wouldn’t walk into an ambush.
His gun slowly lowered to his side. I knew that what he saw was bad. I sidestepped him; out into the open. I had to see it. He grabbed my arm but it was too late.
The entire village was leveled. Smoke rose from the ashes of every hut in sight. There was nothing left. Only bodies littered the walkways and the rubble. I could see all the way to the river. No people or structure stood to block my view.
Timothy stepped in front of me. “Alex, what were you thinking? Never ever walk out into an open area like that without my lead.”
My mouth hung agape. I slowly closed it and Timothy’s face became visible. Anger welled inside of me. I felt my chest grow hot and the heat rise to my face.
“Get out of my way.” I shoved past him and ran, toward the doctor’s. I jumped over bodies and small flames. Timothy’s footsteps crunched behind mine, but he didn’t dare hold me back. I am sure I looked wild and savage.
At his plot, there was little left, like all the others. There was charred earth, bits of papers, and shards of furniture crumbled by fire. There was no body left behind. I fell to my knees on the stone doorstep.
Timothy stopped behind me.
“Was it all for nothing?” I cried through my clenched teeth.
I sat in shock. I dropped the gun to the ground. There was nothing left. Nothing to mark our history. Nothing to hold onto that could help rid us of the genocide. They had taken everything, again.
Chapter Six
Timothy stood behind me and gave me time to digest it all. He knew better than to reprimand me again, given what was found. I stared blankly into the coals and tried to process the absence of everything we had worked for; what I had almost died for.
Timothy walked into the ruins and began to kick around as he looked for anything of use. He bent to pick through the ashes a couple of times. I didn’t need to watch to know the attempt was futile.
I bent forward. My head rested upon the ground. My vision tunneled and I felt nauseated.
With my eyes closed, Timothy lifted my head and caressed my face. He dragged me into his arms. My eyes fluttered open to his face close to mine.
“Alex, what happened?” He kissed my cheek and looked in my eyes with those deep pools of ink.
“What do you mean?” I croaked.
“You were staring at the ground and went unresponsive. You drew in the dirt with your finger. You drew the machine again.” He answered and pointed to the ground.
I looked down upon the sketch I made into the dirt and ash. It was rudimentary, but clearly the same machine drawn during my last black out.
My hands started to shake and my mouth went dry. I lifted my hand to my face. It felt like it was lead. My pointer finger was dark with soil and dirt was caked under my nails. It was confirmation that I had done the drawing.
I looked up at Timothy, my eyes wide in fear.
“What was happening to me? How was it possible for my brain to keep this information and it come to the surface whenever it wanted?” My mind reeled.
As if he read mind, Timothy knelt in front of me and whispered. “It seems to happen when you are under emotional distress.” Timothy kissed my cheek. “We shouldn’t stay here very long.” He stood and shuffled through the wreckage again.
“There has to be something left! The doctor wouldn’t have allowed them to take everything!” I panted.
A metallic reflection caught my eye, toward the back of where the hut once stood. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. It was still there. With a heave, I raised and stumbled to the shining metal.
Only a corner protruded through the smoldering ash. I pried a tube from the ground. My fingers singed on the heat of it immediately, so I flicked it out of its resting place and kicked it over to where I had drawn the machine.
I stuck my fingers in my mouth to quench the pain. Timothy stopped when he realized what I did. In two large strides, he was beside me. We caught each other’s eyes. I shrugged.
He pulled the end of his jacket over his fingers and retrieved the charred tube. The end had a twist cap that turned as Timothy worked at it. He held it for me to see that there was a slip of paper curled inside. Careful not to burn myself again, I slid the paper from the tube and unrolled it.
“In case of emergency, the white eyed girl knows where to find the plans,” was scribbled upon the paper.
“He must mean Cara.” I said.
“Yes, now we just have to find her.” Timothy confirmed.
“You don’t think they took her, do you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “She is too smart and knows their strategies. Let’s go.” Timothy stuffed the paper and tube into his back pocket. He tilted his head to the gun in my hand. “We still need to be alert. Keep it ready.”
We lifted our guns and retreated to the dunes. The smells and bodies didn’t seem as dismal with the new hope of further information. Nothing stirred, even the birds were eerily silent.
I plucked the bags from the brush and we hoisted them onto our backs. I followed Timothy down to the shoreline. I dipped my burnt fingers into the salt water.
My mind wandered to the people that died among the fires. I couldn’t fathom the pain of that. The water stung, but I knew that the salt would help disinfect them.
We walked along the water’s edge for a while. Timothy took the paper from his pocket and read it again. I decided that did it, because he needed to be reminded that there was still hope.
After a while, he turned to me. “You ok?” He asked.
“I think so.” I murmured.
“We will go a little further north and cut back inland. If Cara is free, I know where she might have gone.” He explained and shifted his pack.
I tried at a smile. “So, we have a plan?”
A smirk crept across his lips. “I’m working on it.”
He was so handsome and I couldn’t
hold back the grin he bribed from me. I nodded and swatted at his arm. “Work harder.”
Chapter Seven
My legs ached from walking in the soft sand with my heavy boots. It was apparent that I had been inactive for too long. My leg caused an awkward gait, which was highly annoying.
I was relieved when Timothy pointed to some dunes ahead. We headed toward them. The closer we got, the more Timothy’s body tensed. The muscles in his neck twitched as he scanned the landscape for movement. Our guns lifted again, ready for any surprises that laid ahead.
Timothy held up a hand for me to stop. He crawled to the top of a dune and peeked over. He rolled over and stood.
“It looks okay from here.” He still looked nervous.
“What’s over there?” I asked.
“Another village, it’s much smaller than ours used to be.” He frowned. “Cara and I made a plan a long time ago, that if we ever got split up, to meet here.”
“Ok, so guns or no guns?” I was trying to understand what to expect from this place. There weren’t too many hospitable people left. I’d found that out the hard way.
“No guns.” Timothy responded. He holstered his under his jacket.
I put mine on safety and shoved it down the back of my pants. I pulled my shirt and jacket over it.
Timothy took my hand and guided me over the dune. From the top, I saw the small community. Timothy was right. It was much smaller than ours used to be. There were maybe a dozen wooden huts. Several people busied themselves with chores in the common areas, but overall the place was quiet.
“I wonder if word has reached here of the raid?” I spoke softly.
“It is possible.” He admitted solemnly.
As we approached the first hut, one of the women that hung clothes to dry spotted us. She picked up her basket and hurried inside. A whistle cut through the village. It was a signal that strangers had arrived. I gave Timothy a sideways glance.
Soon, the other people stopped their work and rushed into their huts. We were left alone on the path.
We stood in the center of a common area. I turned in a circle to see if anyone watched us.
Timothy raised his hands. “We are from the next village! We mean no harm! I am looking for my sister!” He yelled.
After a few moments, the door opened from nearby and out came a formidable man that carried a long stick. He looked like a lumberjack. His long and full beard protruded from his lined face. He held himself in a way that demanded respect, even though his size alone was notable. He was at least a head taller than Timothy and broad.
He strode over to us. “Is the news true?” He addressed us in a gruff voice.
“I am sorry to report, it is. Everything is gone.” Timothy replied.
The man scratched at his beard. I thought I caught a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes. He locked eyes with Timothy. “You are one of them?” He plunged the staff into the dirt and crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“I am a defector.” Timothy admitted. “We have come here looking for my sister. We will move on as soon as we see if she is here.”
Another door burst open. Cara was shoved out. She fell into a heap. The door latched loudly behind her.
“Cara!” I ran over to her.
She lifted her head to reveal a black eye and bloody lip. “Who did this?” I demanded.
She grabbed ahold of my arms and dragged me down to her. Timothy’s face boiled with rage, but he didn’t move.
The man kept his eyes on Timothy. “We did; well, the bloody lip. She came with the black eye. We don’t want the same trouble those other people had. I will not harbor your people. That is the mistake they made.”
I pulled Cara to a standing position. She peered from under her unruly hair with hatred. She put an arm across my shoulders for support.
“These people saved me and others, as well. How dare you!” I spat.
“Careful girl.” The man warned.
Timothy finally spoke. “I suggest you be careful. We will leave here, but mark my words I will not save anyone here in the future.”
“Do not come here again,” he sneered. “If I see you again, I will kill you myself.”
Timothy sidestepped the man and came to take Cara into his arms. I pulled the gun from my pants and pointed it at the man. His eyes flickered with anger. Timothy walked out of the village with Cara. I covered our retreat.
We took to the woods that lined the northern perimeter of the village. We put some distance between us and the man. I hoped he wouldn’t follow us, because I would have to handle him. Timothy was too busy with Cara.
Timothy stopped. “Find cover. I am going to take Cara to a safer place. I will be back for you, okay?” He didn’t wait for a response and sprinted away.
I did a quick evaluation of the area and decided on some brush against the bottom of a pine. It was as concealed as I could get. I walked quietly to the spot and lowered myself into hiding. I cringed with every crackle from the dry leaves.
With my knees against my chest, I listened to the forest around me. Birds fluttered back and forth between limbs, tiny bugs swarmed around head, and leaves rustled from the busy squirrels that buried their treasures for later.
A steady noise in the natural chaos caught my attention. I tilted my head to try and decipher the direction it originated.
It could be Timothy, but I doubted he would be back so quickly. He needed more time to put distance between us, even at his full pace. He needed to have a moment to check on Cara before he left her alone. I did the math from my hiding spot. I didn’t dare to move until I was sure it was Timothy.
A twig broke loudly to my left. My muscles tensed at the sound and I reached for my gun. I remembered that I put the safety on, so I removed my hand from my pants. Another crunch of leaves resonated. It would create too much noise to pull the gun from my pants, switch the safety, and cock it. I’d rather not have to shoot if I could stay unseen.
Three men entered my periphery. They stepped lightly and paused to move in sequence. The front man, tall and lithe, kept his head down to look for tracks. The other two scanned the trees and had machetes lifted. They were ready to strike.
I held my breath. I felt a bead of sweat trickle down the small of my back.
The leader held up his hand. He bent to the ground and glanced in my direction. He made hand signals to the others and pointed to where I crouched.
I sucked in a breath.
A blur streaked by. Timothy ran past the men. The crash of his attack reached me after I saw him. The leader crumpled upon the leaves. The other men turned and looked for their attacker, then back to their tracker in bewilderment.
“What in the world?” One of the men blurted.
I jumped from the bush and pulled the gun. Both men took a step back. It gave me enough time to switch and cock my weapon.
“Don’t move.” I said evenly.
They eyed me and tried to digest the situation.
“Listen, we weren’t going to hurt you.” One replied and raised his hands.
“Those machetes don’t look peaceful!” I called to them.
Timothy emerged from behind a tree. His gun was also drawn.
“We are going to give you to the count of five to run as far back to your village as you can. If I can still see you, I will shoot. Do you understand?” Timothy yelled.
The two men gawked at each other and then down at their friend. “What about our buddy here? He can’t run.”
“Figure it out. One.” Timothy threatened.
The men scrambled to lift the tracker.
“Two.”
They started to run. They dragged the incapacitated man between them. His feet parted the dead leaves along their escape.
“Three!” Timothy bellowed after them.
Timothy waved at me to come closer. I took large strides and stuffed the gun down my backside. He squatted for me to climb on his back.
“Four!” Timothy warned.
We
were gone before five came.
Chapter Eight
Timothy burst through the underbrush and continued onto the sand. I noticed that he veered back toward the coast about a mile back. Timothy loosened his grip so that I could slide from his back.
He panted heavily from exertion, but kept moving toward the skeleton of a fallen tree. From this distance, I recognized it as a safe spot where Cara must be hidden.
The tree was sun bleached and the bark peeled back from the wood. The limbs cascaded in an arch that made a shelter.
As we approached Timothy whistled, the call of a bird; a bob white. He reached for my hand. “She’s ok, just a little more shaken than she would like to admit.”
I couldn’t help but grin. That sounded just like how I imagined she would be.
“You better get rid of that silly smirk though; she’s in a mood.” He warned me.
I wiped the smile from my face with my free hand.
Timothy held back a few twigs and I crawled inside the branches. He grunted as he followed me.
Cara lay on her side and read a scrap of paper. She didn’t acknowledge our entrance. The space was cramped, so we barely had enough room for all three of us to sit upright. Her black eye and busted lip didn’t seem as bad as it did earlier.
I gave Timothy a thoughtful glance.
“I gave her meds before I left. She didn’t want to use them, but I insisted.” He shrugged.
“One of the few battles you’ve ever won against me. Don’t get used to it.” Cara grumbled.
“Are you ok?” I put my hand on her knee. Her immediate flinch didn’t go unnoticed.
“About as good as I can be after getting my butt kicked.” Cara smoldered. “What in the world took you two so long?”
This was as close to an admission that she had been scared as I supposed I’d ever hear from her.