The Halcyon Dislocation

by Peter Kazmaier

  “Leave it to Al to always have an answer,” said Floyd.

  “The ideal woman—“ began Tom, imitating Glenn’s voice so accurately that everyone broke into laughter. Tom finished the complete Glenn monologue with a little help from the others, and then the group grew silent. For his part, Dave was remembering the time that now seemed so long ago, when there were still ten of them, and the future seemed brighter and more hopeful than it did tonight.

  Stan broke the silence. “Dave, you did remember to bring that old stained parchment you found at the quarry, didn’t you?”

  “You mean the vellum. Of course! Why?”

  “I was afraid you might’ve forgotten it because we left in such a rush. Could I see it?”

  Dave felt an odd reluctance to show it to him. Ever since the confrontation between Stan and Al at the Willow Pond, he’d never quite trusted him. Still, he had no reason to refuse.

  “Sure.” Dave pulled the money belt out from under his shirt, carefully unwrapped the vellum, and handed it over to Stan, who unfolded it and held it up to the fire.

  “What do you see?” asked Floyd.

  “Nothin’,” said Stan, “nothin’ at all. Still, I think it’s important since it’s clear proof that we met the remnants of a primitive civilization of sorts.”

  When Stan finally handed the scrap back undamaged, Dave inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

  They didn’t bother putting up their tents but slept on the ground and resumed their grueling march as soon as it became light enough to walk.

  For the next two days, they moved as swiftly as they could. At the end of the second day, the swollen creek foamed through a narrow cut, then, its fury spent, moved tranquilly toward the sea. The weather showed signs of an early spring, and birds could be seen everywhere, gathering grass and twigs for nests.

  At last they approached Botany Bay. They crossed to the north side of Botany Creek, and as they came within sight of the town, moved quietly, using what cover they could find to shelter their approach from prying eyes. Finally, they reached a stand of basswood on a low hill, separated from the town by 200 yards of brush and the creek. As they crept to the top and looked toward the buildings, they saw smoke filling the air, but everything was quiet. Dave wanted to go straight in, but Floyd insisted on caution. Looking around for a suitable place to make camp, they suddenly heard cries as the din of battle arose in the town. The noise quickly subsided, and all was quiet again.

  They hid their packs in a hawthorn thicket. Al, being the lightest, climbed the largest linden tree in the vicinity to get a better view, and became lost in the highest branches above for some time. When he returned, they all wormed their way into the thicket, to confer unobserved and undisturbed.

  “So what’s the story?” whispered Floyd.

  “The town is on fire. Much of it’s already been destroyed. The stockade is well defended but under sporadic attack from the south side. I think I’ve seen O’Reilly on the stockade walls encouraging the defenders. O’Reilly’s made a lot of improvements to the fort’s defenses since we left.”

  “What about the creek?”

  “As far as I could tell, the creek side of the fort hasn’t yet been attacked. That’s not too surprising. With the current high water levels, the wall of the fort is only about ten feet from the water’s edge, and any attackers would be easy to kill on that narrow strip of land.”

  __________

  Edward Makalo was bone tired and was pretty sure he was going to die; if not tonight, then tomorrow or the next day. He was on guard duty on top of the Botany Bay stockade waiting for the next attack by the renegades. Everyone else, except Bronson, the other sentry, was trying to get a little bit of rest.

  His grandfather, an Igbo fighter from the Nigerian civil war, has been called Atu-egwuonwu before he changed his name to Makalo on emmigrating to the United States. Atu-egwuonwu meant “do not have fear of death” yet Edward was very afraid.

  He forced his mind back to his duty and trudged along the north wall of the stockade which was only 10 feet from Botany Creek. The renegades never attacked from this side, but who knew what they would do next?

  Movement caught Edward’s eye. A large bush, uprooted by the spring flood, slowly drifted down the creek. There was something odd about the bush, but he couldn’t put his finger on it in the fog of his tired thought. Still he stopped and watched intently. When the bush reached some reeds next to the stockade, it snagged and stopped. Slowly a dark shape emerged and stealthily approached the stockage wall. Makalo unlimbered his crossbow and was about to shout the alarm when he saw the figure throw a bundle over the wall and retreat silently back to his hiding place in the bush. Edward swallowed his shout and went to the bundle, adrenaline making him alert for an attack. He carried the bundle to the corner of the stockade where a small lantern was burning. He read a few lines and then rushed down the ladder as fast as he could to pound on O’Reilly’s door. He heard commotion inside and O’Reilly appeared at the door rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “Edward, is your watch done already?”

  “Bronson is still on guard, but you’ve got to see this right away.” He thrust the paper and the bundle at O’Reilly.

  O’Reilly started to read. “Praise the Lord we have a chance.”

  “Pardon?” said Edward.

  “I was just mumbling to myself, Edward. It’s from my nephew. He and five others are across the creek and have a plan to get us out of here. Take me upstairs and show me where you found this.”

  Edward walked briskly across the fort courtyard and led the way up the ladder. From the exact spot where he had picked up the parcel he pointed to the bush snagged in the reeds.

  O’Reilly leaned over the wall and called in muted tones, “Dave, Dave is that you?”

  __________

  After he had thrown his clothing bundle over the wall, Dave returned to his hiding place to wait. He had deliberately made the bundle bulky to that a sentry could not help but stumble over it even in the dark. A long delay at this point could be disastrous.

  A sentry approached and picked up the bundle and then moved off. The initial elation at seeing the sentry gave way to concern as the interminable wait began to grate on him.

  Something has to happen now. What’s taking so long? Maybe Uncle Charlie is already dead.

  An ice cold hand gripped his heart at that thought.

  Two men approached the edge of the parapet and Uncle Charlie’s voice said, “Dave, Dave is that you?”

  “Yes, Uncle Charlie,” said Dave. “Let me come up and we can talk.”

  “Give me a minute while I look for a ladder or a rope,” said O’Reilly.

  “I’ve got one. I can get up, if you keep your trigger-happy crossbowmen from shooting me.”

  “Come up and be quick about it before the renegades find out you’re here.”

  Throwing a line up to O’Reilly, Dave disentangled the ladder from the floating island and slowly let it be pulled up the wall of the stockade. Once it was fast, he tested the strength of the rungs and climbed up, pulling the ladder after him.

  Dave looked around. The sentry was haggard, weary, desperate, but O’Reilly’s eyes glowed at Dave’s appearance. “Thank God you’re here! It’s good to see you, son!” said O’Reilly, clapping him on the back. “I was afraid the renegades had found you. How are the others?”

  “They’re here; at least, some are here,” said Dave. “But what’s going on here, Uncle?”

  “We’re in bad shape—under continual attack. It started about a week ago when a bunch of renegades broke into town and freed some others we’d locked up. We drove them out and had peace for a few days, but three days ago they attacked in force, scattered or killed many, and drove about 200 of us into the stockade. We’ve been fighting for our lives ever since. We’re completely out of ammunition and almost out of arrows.”

  “What started this?” Dave asked.

  “I made an earnest, desperate attempt to contain the sp
read of the Happy Berry addiction, but it had already become too deeply rooted for me to stop it. At first it was just an addiction, but then the longtime users went berserk; they became violent and out of control and began destroying everything in their path. Now the addiction has affected such a large part of our population, our village has been destroyed. We’ve no choice but to try to get out of here.”

  “How many are here?” asked Dave.

  “We still have about 200 crammed into this small space.”

  “Are there any others who are not renegades left on the mainland?”

  “There may be,” said O’Reilly, “but we have no way of reaching them. We need to get out while we can. Crazy as the renegades are, they’ve grown to hate us non addicts, and I don’t think they’ll stop the attacks until they kill us.”

  “Well, we have a plan, such as it is,” said Dave.

  “What kind of plan?” asked O’Reilly.

  After Dave had explained their idea, O’Reilly said, “It’s a long shot and very risky.” He paced up and down. Finally he turned and Dave could see O’Reilly had made up his mind. “We’ve been holding out hoping against hope that Halcyon would send a rescue force after our daily radio reports had gone silent, but no one has come. We’re at the end of our rope and we can’t hold out much longer. Let’s do it.”

  “Okay,” said Dave, “I need five men; all good swimmers and reasonably handy with a sailboat.” When these arrived, Dave spoke to them briefly. After checking that the bank of the creek was still clear, the five crept down the ladder and quietly swam across the creek where Al led them into the brush.

  Dave stooped as he walked the parapet and peered under cover at the renegades outside the stockade. When he showed too much of himself on one occasion he heard the twang of a bow and the thud of several rocks as they careened off the wall near his head. Dave had seen enough. It was clear the renegades couldn’t approach the back of the stockade under cover, and they were not organized enough to occupy the far bank of the creek. Indeed, most were ransacking and pillaging Botany Bay, enjoying all the beer and food they could find. Dave went back to the part of the stockade by the creek.

  Time went by slowly as Dave paced back and forth, looking anxiously for any sign of renegades near the creek. Come on, guys, hurry it up!

  Finally, as he turned toward the bay Dave saw a bright glow. He ran to the wall. In the distance, near Boomerang Island, he could see a fire. This was the signal he’d been waiting for.

  Okay, they’ve torched the bridge! Let’s hope it distracts the renegades enough to let us get away.

  Dave told O’Reilly they should get ready, then ran back to watch the creek. When Al reappeared on the far bank, Dave climbed down using his ladder. Al threw a rope across the creek. Dave first lashed the rope to the raft, and then leaving some slack, he lashed the end of the rope securely to a tree stump on the bank. Al pulled the rope taut so the raft was pulled into the middle of the stream. Upstream Dave saw the several logs drifting down from the lumber mill up the creek. They snagged on the raft and gradually filled the space across the creek with a little help from Al and Dave. Dave lashed two logs to the stout rope to keep the logs from turning in the water. Al did the same at his end.

  So far, so good!

  He gave a wave to the top of the stockade, and as men began to climb down the ladder, O’Reilly handed poles and planks down to Dave. The third one slipped with a crash, and everyone held their breath, but the renegades remained quiet.

  Dave crept to the water’s edge. He peered up and down the creek. Still no one! He raised the first plank and balanced it on the raft. He added a second. Carrying two more planks, he tested the strength of the bridge and then put down the next two planks. He tried the planks onto the logs with short pieces of rpoe and tested the crude plank bridge. Satisfied, he crept back to the palisade and waved for the start of the evacuation.

  As soon as the first group of men was down, O’Reilly began sending down the women. Dave climbed back up to the parapet, and it was time to empty the stockade. O’Reilly and Dave remained with the last group of men to create the impression that the fort was still heavily defended. However, just as the last of the men climbed over the back wall and were slipping out, the renegades launched another of their periodic attacks, running close to the wall and throwing firebrands, stones, and spears over the wall. The ruse to distract the renegades had failed. The sham defense could not stand up to their determined onslaught, and fires started all over the fort with no one left to put them out.

  “We’d better make a run for it!” hissed O’Reilly. “I think our jig is up. If any of these renegades has enough brains to figure out what our lack of defense means, it won’t be long until they press the attack to the creek.” With that they ducked down and ran along the parapet to the back where a defender was waiting by the ladder.

  “Still all clear,” the guard said.

  “Let’s get out of here!” said O’Reilly.

  They climbed down the ladder and ran across the pontoon bridge. As Dave held the ladder for O’Reilly, he saw the first renegades reach the top of the front wall. Seeing Dave escaping, they shouted to their companions.

  When O’Reilly reached the bank and began to head across the planks, Dave, who was right behind him, grabbed the ladder, yanked it down, and then began running across the pontoon bridge. The first renegade, who was already on top of the wall, jumped down to the bank without hesitating.

  Those renegades are fearless!

  Dave glanced back just in time to see him land and go over on his ankle.

  As the last one to cross the bridge, Dave cut the rope and fit an arrow onto his crossbow while O’Reilly pushed the bridge away from the bank with a pole. With the raft free, the whole mass of planks began to move again, but the first renegade was already charging across the raft, limping as he came. Dave’s bolt hit the renegade in the shoulder and knocked him into the water. The logs and raft drifted to the far bank, still tied to the rope.

  Al had come back for Dave and O’Reilly.

  “This way!” he said and began running away from the creek, along a path through the trees. Within five minutes, the three emerged from the forest onto a narrow spit of rock, where the fugitives were gathered.

  Dave ran across the narrow isthmus to the rocky outcropping and climbed on top. The first sailboat with three others in tow had already arrived. Farther off, he could see more sailboats in groups of four, making their way towards them from the far side of Boomerang Island. In the distance, the plank bridge from Boomerang Island to the mainland was ablaze. There were also fires on the island itself, where some of the storage sheds were on fire.

  Floyd had twenty refugees forming a line with the women getting first crack at a spot in the sailboats. The rest, armed with crossbows and rifles had taken up defensive positions on the isthmus. “Take it easy,” said Floyd. “Dwight make sure that there are no more than 7 in a sailboat. Have the sailboats stand clear as soon as they’re loaded to make room for the other boats.” As each boat loaded and cast off, Dwight would designate another group to take their place in line ready for embarkation.

  It would take thirty-two sailboats to carry everyone away. Only eight men had been sent to ferry the boats over to the isthmus, so it turned out to be an agonizingly slow process. Thankfully the renegades hadn’t found them yet. Dave was beginning to hope that they’d either given up, or were in such a drug induced stupor they couldn’t make out the direction in which the fugitives had escaped.

  This hope proved false. A small band of refugees was still waiting for the last boats when a howl broke out in the woods and an answering howl could be heard from a large band of renegades moving along the shore toward the mouth of Botany Creek.

  Can I really bring myself to shoot someone? What if I know them?

  Dave had deliberately shot to wound at the creek, but here it would come down to a duel to the death. He looked over at Al beside him and wondered how Al, Christian that he was,
would handle the same difficult choice.

  All wondering stopped, however, when the renegades broke from the trees and charged the isthmus at full speed, shrieking at the top of their lungs, their red¬yellow eyes luminous in the early morning light.

  Dave shot bolt after bolt, replacing the arrows as quickly as he could. When his last arrow had been spent, he grasped his staff in his left hand and his sword in his right. Floyd and Al had expended all of their ammunition and thrown their rifles away.

  Another band attacked across the narrow rock of the isthmus, now slippery with blood. With a bloodcurdling shriek, a disheveled renegade with torn clothes and wielding a club lunged at Dave. Dave deflected the blow and then in one motion drove the butt end of his staff into the renegade’s midsection. The renegade grunted, staggered and stumbled into the roundhouse swing of another renegade’s club. The blow dropped Dave’s opponent like a stone. Silence. The other renegades were also dead.

  Dave looked down at the body at his feet. Blood was oozing from the back of his head. The blank eyes stared up, lifeless, through the matted and tangled hair. It was the contorted face of Darryl Wyndhurst, almost unrecognizable in its ferocity. But there could be no mistake; it was Darryl Wyndhurst.

  Dave felt the gorge rising in his throat.

  “Are you all right?” asked Al.

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” said Dave in a thick voice.

  To take his mind off Wyndhurst he looked for the boats. Four more had cast off, but the final two were still far away. Fortunately the attack from the woods had not been coordinated with the attack along the shore, and the former had been repelled before the shore reinforcements had crossed the mouth of Botany Creek.

  Just then they heard the cry of additional renegades gathering for another determined assault on the isthmus. “We’ll have to swim for it!” O’Reilly shouted, his voice booming above the din. “Leave your weapons and get into the water!” He knocked down the first of three renegades that charged across the isthmus.

  One by one the defenders threw down their weapons and dove into the water to swim for the two approaching sailboats. Finally only O’Reilly and Dave were left. Another renegade charged. “Now, you go!” said O’Reilly. Dave felt a pang of regret as he threw his weapons into the sea and dove out as far as he could. When he surfaced, he saw O’Reilly whack a renegade on the head with his club, throw his weapons away, and run for the water. But another renegade charged from the bushes and hurled his spear at O’Reilly. Dave saw his uncle stumble then fall down a step of rock to the shore. Three arrows fired from a nearby boat buried themselves in the chest of the renegade before he could finish O’Reilly off. With a final effort, O’Reilly slid himself head first off the rock into the sea.