by Jim Rudnick
Someone had put some of the cardboard, accident detritus, and some such brown rotting weeds as cover to try to hide the strip that had a series of barbs pointing upward that would deflate any tires that rode over it. At speed, it would blow out all the tires, which often then meant the car or vehicle would spin off the road.
“That’s enough, nonbelievers,” a voice yelled out from above them in the left-hand ditch.
Standing there were a handful of men—rifles trained on them all. Two of them had their rifles up at their shoulders, aiming directly at Javor and at Sue just outside the passenger doorway. Three more had shotguns at their hips, pointing at Wayne and Bruce who were taken by surprise.
But the look of these ambushers was the most surprising thing.
Each was bald except for a topknot of long hair that was braided and hung down to mid-chest level. Each was naked to the waist with some kind of tattooing on their chests of various designs—stripes, animal silhouettes, and even lightning bolts. All were in assorted colors, but the overall hues were in reds of various tints. If the word tribe was used as a descriptor, Javor thought, then, yes, this was a tribe for sure, as he gazed at their brown leggings and boots.
He knew they could see his Colt and he was directly in their sights. He stood still, wondering what to do next.
Sue had a pistol and Bruce had one in his ankle holster.
Except that they have us sighted in …
The cadre group stood frozen, while the ones with shotguns collected Bruce and Wayne. Each was frisked and then one of the tribe whistled, and three women came running out of the farm to the left side of the road. Each was like the males—bald except for the topknot of long hair, each naked to the waist, wearing the same leggings and short boots too. Javor noted that the man who’d frisked Wayne had not checked his ankles, so they had one gun at least so far.
The women’s breasts, Javor could see, were like those of women he’d met all over the human worlds—some big, some small. But each was covered again with the same kind of reddish tinted tattoos too. Between them, they carried a string of chains and shackles, and while they got Bruce and Wayne shackled to the chains, two more came to the cab of the truck.
He too was frisked, the Colt taken away, and then was shackled together with Sue, who also lost her pistol, to the string of chains.
One tribe member said something in a language that he didn’t know, and the man shook his head.
“You have a dog, it appears—but he just turned and ran,” he said, and Javor realized that Bixby had in fact deserted them. That made him wonder, but a yank on the chain brought him back into the present.
The leader motioned them all to go back down the road to the farm drive, then turn left, and slowly climb the driveway to the barn. At the barn, the door ahead opened by sliding off to one side. Another tribe woman dipped her head, and they went by into the barn.
The first thing they all noticed was lights hanging from the high rafters, some lit in the dimness of the very high structure, which meant they had power. There were tables and a whole hodge-podge of chairs at same, and some were holding tribe members who were eating while others were chatting. But all stopped when the newest captives appeared.
One of the tribe members rose and ambled over to look at them.
“Four more—well done, believers!”
That got an acknowledgment from all of their captors via a loud tribal yell of “Huzzah!” and the tribal man grunted.
“You belong now to the Red Tribe,” he said with a degree of force in his voice.
He pointed at them all and went on.
“We will be on our way up to the Forest Empire outpost—not far really—so the walk will not help you all get in shape very much. Once there, you will be sold to them—they need fodder for their next games, and the prices are good right now. We will also take your truck too, not that I’m told it may run again. We thank you for this, as it is not every day that we in the Red Tribe find such value on the road. Even from the spike trap from years ago … who knew that there was even a truck still alive?”
He grinned at them and went on.
“Amal, add these to the master chain, and give them each a portion of the dinner. We need them to be in as good a shape as we can.”
Another tribe member, a man, nodded to the two shotgun-wielding tribe members who still had them under cover, and he grabbed the end of the chain off the barn floor and walked toward the far wall. There, a woman, who looked like she was the guard person, unlocked a locked door, and then Javor entered the side room.
It was a long room, at least thirty feet long, and inside sat a dozen more captives.
Some men, some women—no children, Javor noted, and he watched as the man connected the end of their chain to the large ring that held together all the sub-chains. Then he left the room, and Javor could hear the guard locking the door.
As they’d been effectively closed off, he moved over to sit as close to his group as he could.
Someone spoke up and said, “Where you all from?”
It was a man in a camouflage set of clothes, and he looked like some kind of soldier. There were four of them all dressed the same, Javor noted, and the rest were civilians.
Sue half-smiled and said, “We’re from Maxwell, on our way to Arlington … ‘til today that is.”
The man nodded. “Know anything about this Forest Empire tribe or group? Or this one?” he asked.
Sue shook her head. No sense in providing intel unless you were sure of the advantages for yourself, and Javor squeezed Bruce’s good arm at the same time.
Later, they ate the dinner—some kind of stew with a big chunk of bread across the top of the foil bowl that killed their hunger pretty well. As he ate, he looked at and finally caught Wayne’s eye and then stared down at his left ankle, then back an Wayne, and then the ankle.
Wayne nodded and said as part of the dinner conversation about Lindos the free city, he shared that he too had heard that a free city was a spot to enjoy … as long as one was armed.
Javor nodded. Bruce had somehow gotten his revolver back into his ankle holster.
They had a gun … and hope …