by Alessio Cala
Frank was dragged back and tossed to one side. He used his fingertips to brush away the glass in his eyelids and opened them for the first time since the attack. It was Carlos that had pulled him away. He stood over by Derek who was lying down motionlessly. Frank inhaled short, rapid breaths. Complete disbelief. He stared at Derek. More gunshots echoed outside. The group flinched at the shots, covering their ears, but not a single bullet entered the cabin.
The front door swung open on its rusted hinges. A single raider rushed in, screaming with a rifle in hand. Before they could even catch a clear view of him a gunshot flashed through the cabin. The raider's head snapped back at the force of the bullet embedding his skull. Brain matter splattered across the walls. The raider's body slumped down into a lifeless clutter. Tracy screamed to the top of her lungs. She released the dog and tucked her head down into her knees. Open palms shook violently in front of closed eyes. She screamed to forget what she had just witnessed but that brief moment would stay with her forever. Frank looked to the back of the room and noticed the smoking barrel of John's single action army.
The cabin was completely destroyed. Daylight beamed in from all directions through hundreds of tiny bullet holes. Carlos stared back at Frank, also riddled with disbelief. Frank's eyes drifted back over to Derek, his face dripping in sweat. Did I kill him? The oaf did not move. He laid face-down in the shards of glass and timber. A voice called out from the clearing but nobody could make out what was said. Carlos peered up through the smashed window. His eyes widened, spotting something out in the clearing. He snatched his rifle by the door and charged outside.
Derek soared up as if shocked by a defibrillator. He gasped for breath, long and deep. Frank hesitated to breath. The man had risen, as if from the dead. He dropped his head back and exhaled deeply. Frank's legs grew stiff, overwhelmed with the dull drumming of pins and needles. He lay still, staring back into the eyes of the oaf. Derek rose to his feet, his taut fists wringing the flesh of his own palms. His arms tightened, shoulder's locked. He breathed through his nose with flared nostrils. He was going to go for him, or so Frank thought. Derek reached for the .38 lying amongst the glass. Frank laid still, nowhere to run. Derek grabbed the pistol firmly and marched out of the log cabin. Frank's heart dropped suddenly and the others stared in an uncomfortable silence. He crawled to Annie through the debris.
"You okay?" He held her face in his hands and stared into her vacant eyes. She nodded. He could feel her face trembling in his hands. The boy sat quietly in her arms and looked back and forth between the couple.
"Sam, what about you, you okay?"
Sam nodded. Frank couldn't gauge the boy's expression. He seemed more confused, not scared or shocked by what just happened. One minute he had been crying and yet his tears had already faded. Frank's mind drifted into the endless realm of possibilities as to what the boy had been exposed to in his life. Had he really seen worse? At first he was saddened, but shortly after, anger took over. He realised that the people who did this to him deprived him of his innocence, his purity. The boy believed that what they had just witnessed was normal, and that was what angered Frank the most.
Carlos sprinted across the open plain. A single man stood, dead raiders littered his feet in cold blood. The man dropped his weapon, hands raised above his head in surrender. He got down on his knees in the tall grass. The rest of the group poured out of the derelict cabin. Carlos stood over the man, his rifle raised toward the man's heart.
"Who are you?" He leaned in and pushed the barrel of the rifle closer to his chest. Frank staggered down the steps and joined the others. The man wore a combat BDU and an armour plated chest harness.
"Answer me," said Carlos. Derek struck the man's nose with a right hook. He jerked back, his nose busting wide open. Blood spewed out across Derek's knuckles. He grabbed the injured man and pulled him back up to his knees.
"What the hell are you doing?" yelled Frank. "He just saved our lives."
Derek pushed the man away and turned straight for Frank. His teeth clenched with rage, eyes near bulging from their sockets. John and Kara held Derek back. He desperately tried to reach out over them, snatching the air with open claws.
"You think I'm fucking finished with you?" Strands of saliva discharged from his mouth, his nose a snotty mess.
"Get out of here Derek," Carlos ordered.
Derek turned back to Carlos, stunned by what he had just heard. He backed away from Kara and John and channelled his suppressed anger into a wicked stare. Frank could tell from his glance alone that he was saving all that aggression for later. Carlos was right however, there were more important matters to be dealt with right now and Derek's behaviour was only making matters worse. He backed away from the group, cursing under his breath and sat himself down on a fallen tree by the edge of the clearing.
"I'm with the LPA," said the man on his knees. He lowered his head and rubbed his bloody nose into his jumper. He was physically fit, somewhere in his late thirties, American accent.
"What's your name?" Carlos asked.
"Mike."
"You alone out here?"
"Yes."
"You're full of shit is what you are," said John.
"I assure you, I'm not."
Carlos leaned over and tugged something out from Mike's belt. He held it up for the others to see. A bright orange flare gun.
"You want to assure us about this? How do we know there aren't more of your people waiting out in the bushes ready to ambush us?"
"Carlos..." Kara interrupted. "He saved us."
Carlos' head hung low, he was growing more tired and impatient by the minute.
"What do you want from us?" he asked Mike.
"Our company were heading north to Elkford when we got run off the road by a group of raiders. I lost my entire squad and got separated from the others. I decided to head east toward the mountains. I heard there’s an abandoned radio tower out there, thought maybe it’s worth trying to reach an outside signal. I spent the night out here scoping out the place to make sure you guys weren't more of those assholes. Then I saw the kid." Mike leaned to one side. He looked past the rows of legs until his eyes met with the boy, huddling sheepishly behind Annie.
"Raiders force rifles into the hands of their young."
"If you're LPA, you're here because the world shut us out.
There ain't no outside signal giving two shits about us," said John.
"It's worth a shot at least, don't you think?"
"Sounds like a waste of time if you ask me," Carlos added. The kneeling man turned back to Carlos. "Well maybe we could help each other?"
"No can do, sorry." Carlos turned his back and began walking toward to the cabin. “Pack your things, we’re moving on.”
"Wait a minute," said Kara. She turned with haste, doing her best to keep up with his determined stride. "This guy is a trained fighter, he could be useful."
"We can't trust him, Kara."
"You don't trust anybody but sooner or later you're going to have to."
"We've already got enough people to babysit, you want more? Be my guest."
"But he can help us."
"Fine." Carlos replied bluntly. He handed the flare gun over for her to take care of. "Anything goes wrong though, it's on you. You know that, right?" That passing of responsibility hung over Kara like a vulture. Carlos made his feelings clear and he wanted the group to know that if anything happened, he was in no way accountable.
Barry sat forward, nearly coughing up his lungs. He was covered in feathers and sawdust and was left alone in the ruins of his once peaceful log cabin. He observed the state of the cabin and felt the tears well in the ducts of his eyes. He tried desperately to hold them back; knowing the others were outside. He didn’t want them to see, but the change around him was far too overwhelming for him to comprehend.
Tracy entered the cabin. She spotted Barry sat up in the corner by the overturned mattress and rushed over to him.
"Did you get hit?"
"My home..."
She didn't know what to say. There was nothing to say. His cabin was ruined. The walls were shot up, the mattress ripped to shreds and the meat he had collected over the past week was now rendered useless. The hunted game had been torn apart by bullets, sprawled out into pieces across the room in a fleshy massacre. Everything demolished. The only thing that had managed to survive were the items stored in his steel chest at the foot of his bed. It would take him at least a month to get the walls fixed, and even then, he now had no means of trade in order to purchase such materials needed.
Tracy could hear the others walking in and out of the cabin collecting their equipment. They would have to move on quickly. If the raiders had come from a nearby camp, there was a strong chance that more were on their way, especially after hearing the shooting. It was a risk Carlos didn't want to take and neither did Tracy.
"You have to come with us."
"I can't leave." Barry wiped his nose on his sleeve, sitting hopelessly amid the rubble.
“I understand, Barry, but you have to listen to me. When those men come back here they’ll leave you for dead. I can’t leave here knowing that will happen to you, I won’t. You don’t have a choice in this."
Barry's head tilted up to Tracy's eyes for the first time. He paused, as though silently grieving for a lost relative, but the cabin was all he ever had and now it was gone. He had no real alternative. He could join them on their journey east, or wait for more raiders to arrive and deliver his cruel, impending demise.
Frank told Annie, Tracy and Sam to wait with Kara by the tree line while the others packed their things as quickly as possible. He didn’t want either of them to have to look at the dead any longer. He had caught sight of Sam glancing at the deceased children by the cabin. He stared at one of the teenagers lying in the mud. For a moment Annie thought he might have known the child, but there was no expression, no emotion. Barry knelt by the steel chest and crammed all the accessible provisions into a rucksack.
“What about their rifles?” Derek asked.
Carlos picked up the rifle by his feet, stained with the blood of a fallen raider. It belonged to the raider John had shot after the raid. He studied it thoroughly. "No ammo."
"The others outside are low too," Mike added.
"We can't afford to carry the extra weight.”
It took them just five minutes to collect everything. They packed more blankets, some medical supplies, a hunting knife, compass, matches and Barry also hooked some snare traps he made to the outside of his rucksack.
Consumables were scarce but water wasn't a problem. There was always the fresh water streams scattered around the island and frequent spells of rain continuously added to the island's already rising water level. Food was what they really lacked. They had managed to eat a decent enough meal the night before, but not knowing where their next meal would come from was a frightening prospect. Frank felt somewhat reassured to know they now had a huntsman with them but he also worried. Barry's mind strayed far from their existing situation. Frank wondered if he knew just how much of a threat the raiders were and what they were capable of. He remembered the assault on Merribank; the burning bodies, deafening gunfire that mowed down hundreds of settlers at a time. He thought about Henry, and whether his family ever made it out alive. He shook the nightmarish memories away. He was here now. There was no point in dwelling on the past. He knew he needed to stay strong, to reassure Annie and tell her that they were doing the right thing, even though he too had his own doubts. He now had Derek to worry about. He never meant for things to go the way they did. The oaf seemed calmer for now, but Frank knew this was not the end of it. The oaf would come back, but for the time being he would keep his distance and sleep with one eye open.
The group was deflated, traumatised by the death and destruction around them. Frank couldn't blame them, especially Carlos. The man was under a lot of pressure. He was specially selected by Javier Paraíso himself to guide them and now their numbers had increased. Carlos' experience as a fur trapper was invaluable. He was guiding ten others — including the boy and the dog — through treacherous territory infested with savage beings and ever-changing weather conditions. Winter drew closer and was fast approaching. The distant snow-capped mountains were vaguely visible, flat against the misty white sky. The brisk winds shrilled through the swaying pines, their branches rocked back and forth in a paranormal fashion and the sounds of the wind against the dreary backdrop only emphasised the notion of a dark and eerie presence. They regrouped by the tree line. Frank caught sight of Barry who took one last glance back at the cabin. He heard the others setting off behind him and placed a friendly hand on Barry's shoulder.
"I'm sorry we both got dragged into this."
He didn't reply. He just turned around, empty. They turned their backs on the log cabin and proceeded with their endeavour. The more time they wasted, the more the raiders engulfed Autark.
TEN
They had made their way east from the cabin. Carlos kept Barry’s directions in mind and led them along a narrow path through the forest. Frank glanced back over his shoulder and noticed Annie carrying the child in her arms.
"Annie, put the boy down, he's got two working legs."
"But he's–"
"The grounds fine here, not as wet. Put him down."
Annie reluctantly abided. She gently put Sam down and continued walking alongside Tracy. Frank offered to stay with Sam. He caught the boy's attention and craned his neck to one side to indicate for him to follow. Sam followed him closely but his concentration was elsewhere. Frank's eyes constantly darted from left to right and back again; searching for any signs of raiders.
"What's a penguin?" Sam asked sheepishly.
"What?"
"A penguin. I heard the angry man say it to Barry. He said he waddled like a penguin because he was fat. What does he mean?"
"He said that?"
Sam nodded.
"A penguin is a kind of bird. You don't get them around here though, they're out in the arctic."
"Where's that?"
"South of here, some way away."
"Can they fly here?"
"No they don't fly."
"Don't all birds fly?"
"No. Penguins waddle around. They uh- they slide on the ice, swim and catch fish.. I don't know much else."
"Birds that swim?"
"Birds that swim, that's right."
Frank watched the boy process the thought, staring down at nothing in particular. "...I think the angry man waddles too."
Frank smiled. He agreed with the boy and his honesty made it all the more amusing to him. What am I doing? Frank's face dropped immediately. He was letting him in. He said it to himself right from the start, that he wouldn't allow himself to get too close. It was distracting him from the very reason he was there in the first place; to find him safety, find his parents.
"We need to keep up with the others," said Frank abruptly, cutting the rest of the conversation short. He began to march forward but quickly felt the child's grasp around his open palm. Frank's head whipped back. He stared at the boy, confused by his anxious little eyes. The crack of wood echoed throughout the forest. Something whooshed down past the corner of Frank's eye. He flinched as the rush of the passing object prickled his senses. He whirled around to find a thick heavyset branch at his feet. He stared at the branch for some time, then looked up to see where it had come from. He remained still and without words and glanced back over to the boy who gently released his grip from Frank's hand.
"How did you–?"
Frank was lost for words, his head shaking in disbelief. Sam said nothing. He looked down at his feet but his timid eyes drifted up to gaze at the bearded man. Frank spotted the others making some distance ahead. He grabbed the boy's hand and guided him over the fallen branch to catch up.
The sound of rushing water was now audible over the crunching pinecones and brushwood beneath their feet. Barry pushed himself between t
wo thick pine trees, clearing a pathway to an opening. He and Carlos held the foliage back in the form of an open gateway for the others to pass through. They were greeted by the breath-taking sight of Autark's Grand River. The water flushed dead ahead into the face of a sandstone cliff, forcing it to alter its course. It curved round and disappeared behind the concealment of the overgrown forest.
The Grand River flowed from the eastern mountains of Autark. Its waters travelled down and split off into two different directions at the base of the mountain. One diverge travelled east while the other ran down past Wolvendale and circulated back south toward the coast. It was the first major water source discovered within the island's perimeter. This was said to have been checked during the first planned national expedition conducted by Roger Bullon and Javier Paraíso nine years ago—a year before the community project began. Frank had never ventured to the east of the island. Despite relocating to Autark, he never felt the need to explore or travel outside of his comfort zone. Wolvendale was known for its industrial construction trade. It was the largest town in Autark and to Frank, it defeated the purpose of the community project. He knew he was a hypocrite for establishing his home away from communal settlements though he did feel his trade as a farmer and grocer served a contribution to Autark's western settlers. He had heard tall tales of Wolvendale's fifty foot concrete walls and luxurious housing accommodations but none of it was for him. He didn't see the point.
As they looked out across the breadth of the river, Frank was reminded of the reason that he and Annie initially decided to move to Autark. Although the river itself gushed at a precarious rate; everything surrounding the water; the calmness of the swaying pines, the distant songs and calls of the local wildlife, even the group themselves as they stood gazing into the outlook, everything was encased in a bubble of serenity. It was an escape from the overly political and economic complications of the modern world. It was how the world was supposed to be before the pestilence of human gluttony and selfishness; before the infesting plague of corporations and the false sense of entitlement, before the desire for power and control over the world's natural resources. Frank couldn't help but feel somewhat responsible for the raider invasion. As part of the project, he played a small role in the media's publicising of the island. He wondered whether the human race was capable of exchanging mutual respect with the environment by taking only what was necessary as opposed to hoarding for profit. The raiders were taking something that didn't belong to them only because they knew there was no true leadership or control to stop them. They wanted to take what they believed to be their right to freedom and keep it for themselves. This is where Frank's opinion differed to Javier Paraíso.