Forgotten Liberty

by Alessio Cala

  "What the fuck happened here?"

  "I-I did not see," she replied.

  "Bullshit. I just got here and I saw a lot of things."

  "I was tending to the chickens. I heard the gunfire and came out just now."

  Frank's fingertips touched the shotgun. He slowly pulled it closer, his finger shaking only inches from the trigger. He laid still, glimpses of black leather boots paced by the chicken coop. A single gunshot blared out from the other side of town. The raider swung around in a panicked sweep. He turned back and marched toward the woman and slapped her to the ground with the back of his hand. He was now in perfect view. Frank eyed up the short greasy man between the confined gap of the chicken coops. The man stood dominantly over the ragged woman. She groaned and held her hand to her cheek which had now turned red and raw in the cold.

  "How many are there?!" he screamed down to her.

  "I do not know."

  Frank rose to his feet and aimed the shotgun. He pushed the stock back into the pocket of his shoulder, lining the sights. His finger itched the trigger; his body taut, shaking with fear. The raider noticed him from the corner of his eye. He turned and faced him with a shocked expression. Frank flinched and jerked back. He heard a sharp hollow thud slam into the raider. He opened his eyes. A long wooden shaft embedded the raider's neck. His eyes widened into a thousand yard stare that penetrated Frank's soul. He stood for as long as he could until his limp body dropped and folded to the ground. Frank stared at the man, then back to the ragged woman.

  "Look out!" she cried. Frank turned fast, so caught up in the moment that he had forgotten about the other raider on the road. The raider raised his rifle. Frank felt the rifle's sights lock onto him and he shied away from the impending shot. The awaited sound of a gunshot was replaced with that same swift thud of contact. Frank peered back up past his cowering eyelids. The rifle clattered against the debris below. Another arrow, this time piercing the raider's chest. He dropped to his knees and the blood soaked through his green shirt. Frank stared blankly. Another arrow zipped past, this time only inches away from his head. He felt the air wisp past and it snapped him back to life. He returned to the ragged woman, lying down in the hay-littered dirt, the shackle still bound to her ankle.

  "Look away," he uttered, his body shaking. He kicked the chain out in front of him and the shotgun blasted in his hands. The steel pellets ripped through the metal chain and split it free. She got up to her feet and shoved a bundle of something wrapped in fastened rags into his pocket.

  Frank stared back. "Run."

  The woman nodded and turned her back. She ran out into the street with the others and they dispersed in all directions. Another arrow pierced the wood of the chicken coop and vibrated to a halt. Frank dived back to cover. He waited behind the coop, the raider's dead body beside him. His shaking stopped. He stared down into the oozing pool of blood that soaked into the hay around him. He would wait for the next shot and then he would have an opening. The zip of the arrow faded into play and struck the inert raider once more. Frank shot up to his feet and made a break into the open.

  Frank and Max darted out of the gate and rushed back down towards the strip. He ran as fast as he could. He turned the corner of the toppled cargo and felt his body crash into something blocking his path. He flew back and slammed down into the dusty debris. Barry yanked him back up to his feet and the others followed close behind. Annie emerged from the group and wrapped her arms around him. He looked around and acknowledged the others. "How did you get in?"

  "There was no other way," Barry said. He gestured to the front gate down the street and it was now wide open. Frank counted the numbers and realised somebody was missing.

  "Where's Carlos?"

  "We were gonna ask you the same thing," replied John.

  The low growl of engines faded towards Wolvendale from beyond the wall. All eyes were now on the front gate. They stared without a sound. The first truck came into view. There were at least two more behind it. Raider foot-soldiers jogged along either side of them, firing their weapons. Together they dived down into the jagged rubble behind the cargo carrier. The sound of bullets pinging steel resonated the street. Frank peered out from the cargo and saw the flurry of arrows rain down across the pale sky. The front tyre of the first truck burst wide open. The front of the truck dipped to one side and bright orange sparks chucked up from the friction. It screeched and swerved before crashing straight through a concrete pillar.

  More arrows whizzed by from all directions. He spotted a group of people emerge from the broken windows of the abandoned buildings. They scaled down with immense speed and acrobat skill. Their skin was tanned and their clothes crafted from the pelts of caribou. A red chalky substance decorated their faces in patterns that summoned visions of ancient tribal tradition. The men and woman hollered and whooped as they touched ground. They closed in from all sides, the raiders completely off guard. The first one down used a harpoon forged from iron as a spear and plunged it straight into the heart of a raider. The others formed together, firing flocks of arrows at both raiders and the group. Frank stared in both horror and intrigue. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible.

  The Grey Wolves?

  John dropped to one knee. He roared to the top of his lungs. Frank turned back and saw the arrow sticking out from his calf. Derek and Mike returned fire. Frank and Barry placed John's arms around their shoulders and heaved him up onto his one good leg. His left leg was in shock, paralysed from the knee down. Kara stuffed Sam into Annie's arms and dragged her along with her. "Run... Run!"

  The group sprinted deeper into the backstreets of Wolvendale, weaving in and out of toppled vehicles and obstacles that crossed their path. The inaccurate flurry of bullets and arrows rained over the tops of their heads. Kara stayed close to Annie and Tracy. A makeshift arrow burrowed straight down in front of her feet and ricocheted out across the gravel. She lifted her head and tracked the trajectory back to a furry figure perched high up a rusty old crane. Without hesitation she emptied the twin barrels of her sawn off shotgun up towards the figure. The bow fell first and shook against the ground. The body followed shortly after, thudding hard face first into the dirt below.

  "Which way?" Derek barked over the gunshots. Barry led them to the farthest corner of the settlement. They bolted inside a storage facility in a flustered shambles.

  "Shut the door!" yelled Frank. Mike and Kara pushed the sliding shutter doors together and slammed them shut. Pinging snaps of gunfire ricocheted off the rusted steel compound. This facility was also dim. The only source of light was the strip of skylight above.

  "Where we headed, Barry?" Frank pestered. He could hear John trying to suppress his pain through faint grunts and groans.

  "H-h-hold on, let me think."

  Mike looked around for something to hold the door shut. All that surrounded them were industrial wooden crates too large to carry.

  “That way,” the soft voice piped up from Annie’s arms.

  Sam hopped down and wandered off towards the back of the facility. Max followed close behind him. The others shared a series of thought provoking glances.

  “We’re not seriously following a damn kid?” said Derek. His arms shot out, questioning whether he was the only sane one among them. Kara led the others to pursue the child.

  “We haven't got many options left.”

  It was the sad truth. The others grabbed their gear and followed the boy through the tall isles of crates. With Kara and Max by his side, Sam edged open the flimsy corrugated iron door at the back. It juddered back on its hinges and Kara checked the narrow alley both ways. It was clear. Sam guided them along the damp, slanted pathway, hidden away behind more industrial structures. They were at the very edge of Wolvendale. Frank flinched at every gunshot they heard, he listened to the weak defenceless slaves cry out in agony from afar. Sam seemed unfazed. He was somehow able to block it all out. He was so focused on escaping, he didn't allow anything get in his way. Rubble and debris
slanted up at a forty-five degree angle against the town’s concrete perimeter. Sam pointed down the path and the others caught sight of his finding. A large pipe stuck horizontally out the side of the angled slope.

  "Jesus..." Barry murmured. "I c-c-complete forgot about this." He ran ahead with a spring in his step. The discovery invigorated a sudden burst of enthusiasm in the plump man.

  "What is it?" asked Kara.

  "S-s-sewer system."

  "Gross."

  "No, it’s n-n-new. They were going to install this right before the town went down. I rem-m-member seeing the trucks import the piping that day.”

  The pipe’s circumference was made of thick iron. A collection of materials and tools gathered dust in a littered pile nearby. Kara squatted down with one hand resting on top of the pipe. She starred down the gloomy tunnel and held her nose at the foul stench ahead. It wasn’t the scent of human excrement; but rather the damp and feral stench of rodent droppings.

  “How far do you think it goes?” said Kara, squinting down through the eternal abyss. Mike knelt down beside her, hunching his shoulders to fit into the pipeline.

  “Only one way to find out.”

  The group piled in, crouching low. They took baby steps through the cramped tunnel. Mike took point and Derek covered the rear. Frank stayed close behind Annie and Sam. He could feel Barry’s heavy breathing on the back of his neck. His sweat settled into the hairs of his eyebrows. A thin puddle of murky green water trailed along the centre of the pipe and occasional rat dropping stuck to their shoes. They pressed onwards, squatting awkwardly through the enclosed space.

  Frank began to feel lightheaded. Nauseous. His vision blurred. He was certain the pipe’s diameter was shrinking and closing in on him. A firm pressure compressed around his ribcage and lungs. The further he delved into the confined passageway, the more pressure he felt suffocating the life out of him. The sound of gunfire echoed behind them through the narrow tunnel. Frank felt the vibrations in his hand that pressed against the side of the pipe. His lungs were going to burst. He tried to call out but words could not escape him. The last tiny breaths of air left his body. His vision became more disorientated. He could still control his limbs but it looked as though they were beyond the pipe’s boundaries. It closed in further. His eyes deceived his mind and spatial awareness. His eyelids grew heavier; he could no longer keep them open. Everything stopped at once. Frank dropped forward, his consciousness lost. He landed face first into the back of Annie and slid down into the foul substances beneath.

  THIRTEEN

  An entire day had passed. The events that took place in Wolvendale were only just beginning to settle in. There was still a long journey ahead of them. Their original route to the military base had now been compromised. Word spread through the grapevine of the raider outposts running back to the military base and now their security was tighter than ever along the Grand River. Now the group were forced to do what they feared most, there was no alternative. They would have to take a detour through the mountains.

  The mountains of Autark were a sensitive subject among settlers. Although the south-eastern highlands had been swept during the construction of a radio tower with stronger signalling capabilities, the search was far from thorough. The mountains were considered uncharted territory. Rumours soon started to spread. Whispers of incidents about missing people fluttered among the surrounding settlements, leaving settlers with an array of tall tales and nightmares to share.

  The group set off in the early hours of the morning. They found themselves over-encumbered in conditions where the snow showed no signs of letting up. What few ounces of strength some possessed were used to carry the weak or injured. The mountains were far too steep along their western face so they would have to go around them from the south. For every mile they ascended, the temperature dropped two degrees. The wind was harsh and relentless. It kicked the snow up from the ground, its texture like flaky grains of sand in their eyelashes. Their list of fears only seemed to increase the more they went on. How could they go on when catching pneumonia from the cold was the least of their worries? The weather and lack of food cut their travel time in half. More stops meant more time without food. They discovered space surrounded by a tree line of thick pines and split up in search for consumables.

  Two fishing tackles drifted beneath the depths of a narrow stream. Up above the surface, the water's current remained calm and steady. Gusts of wind disturbed its serenity, rippling outward in perfect parallel form. On the other end of the fishing rods sat Derek and Carlos across the riverbank.

  "You ready to call it a day?" asked Carlos. "We've been out here two hours now." He tightened his posture to shield from the cold and rubbed his thumbs together over the handle of the fishing rod.

  “What are we doing?” said Derek, deflated. His eyes remained fixed on the rippling water beneath.

  "Well I told you there would be no fish here."

  "No. I mean what are we doing?" Derek gestured between Carlos and himself. “Out here, wasting our time and risking our lives for some little shit."

  "He found you a way out of that mess, didn't he?"

  “So what? That mean he’s Jesus now?”

  "I'm not saying that. Look, you didn't have to agree to this. You chose to do this."

  "What the hell do you know about me?" Derek grumbled. "I owed Javier a favour. Now that I'm actually out in this mess, I'm thinking this return is worth way more than what he did for me."

  They were left encompassed in a moment of silence. Carlos focused on the phenomenal snow-capped mountains above; the dreary sky clouded their peaks and the snow on the pines grew thicker the higher he looked. He could still feel Derek's vibes. More questions, a calculative gaze over the water.

  "I told Barry not to go in there," said Carlos.

  "What, Wolvendale?"

  "Yes."

  "Then why did he?"

  "I don't know. The man is unstable. I told him, 'it's too dangerous.' I said to go around the eastern wall and meet me on the other side."

  "You think he's dangerous?"

  "I think he is a liability. He says one thing and does another."

  "So what are you saying?" asked Derek.

  "I'm saying we need to be more careful. I don’t know how well we can trust these people. It was not difficult to track you down with what you left behind. It could have just as easily been raiders stumbling across those tracks, or worse, those other people you spoke of."

  Derek nodded his head, humming in agreement. "Least he was right about something."

  Carlos stood up and reeled in his line. He was unsurprised to discover nothing latched to the other end. “Come on, we better get back. They’ll probably start wondering where we are.”

  Derek stood and watched, he tossed the fishing rod over his shoulder, balancing the bottom of the grip in the palm of his hand. He stuffed his other hand into his pocket, grabbed a handful of chewing tobacco and packed it into his mouth. Flakes of tobacco dropped from his mouth and buried themselves amongst the black and grey hairs in his beard. Carlos started hiking back up the riverbank.

  “Oi, Carlos," said Derek. He hobbled up the trail and caught up with the scout. “What’s your angle in all this?”

  Carlos’ eyes wandered over to the river and then back to Derek. He shrugged his shoulders, his upper lip sticking out to one side. “I guess sometimes people have to stop thinking for themselves and start focusing on what's best for everybody.”

  Derek stared at him for some time, his eyes squinting, reflecting on the response. Derek rolled his eyes and continued ahead.

  “Why do you laugh?” Carlos asked.

  “You’re full of shit, mate.”

  Barry sat alone against a lonesome willow; basked in a collection of decayed wildflowers that shrivelled and curled up over the ridge like crumpled spiders. He looked down over the edge at the stream that flowed on past the concealment of the forest. He reached into the knapsack beside him and pulled out his can
teen. He unscrewed the cap and took a swig of its contents. The colour of his cheeks transitioned to a warm glow. He took another swig, heavier this time. He seemed drained, exhausted. He didn't even bother to wipe the spilling drops gliding through his white beard. He pushed his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose and sat limply against the tree.

  "Barry?" a voice called out to him.

  He lifted his head and saw Tracy standing over him. She too looked drained. Her dry brunette hair was tied back in a loose bun. Her arms hung loosely by her sides. The pungent aroma of whiskey masked the air. Tracy snatched the canteen from Barry's hands. He barely put up any sort of fight to take it back. She leaned in and sniffed his contents.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Oh, l-l-leave me alone."

  "You know it isn’t safe out here, and you're drinking?"

  "I don't care anymore, alright? I j-j-just don't care."

  His head hung low, his words strung together with an intoxicated slur. Tracy knelt down beside him. She held the canteen out in her hand, staring temptingly into the dark abyss. She brought the brim to her dry pursed lips and knocked back a gulp of its contents. She winced at once and the bitter alcohol singed her throat.

  "You made this?"

  "Yeah."

  "Tastes awful." She screwed the cap back on and set it aside. Barry remained silent, encapsulated in a bubble of his own little world.

  "Look I know you're scared. We all are."

  "I lost everything."

  "I understand. Our home got raided too."

  "I'm n-n-not just talking about that," he replied.

  "Everything before. My job, m-my house… my marriage.”

  "You were married?"