Forgotten Liberty

by Alessio Cala

  “Frank…” she whispered with bated breath. He couldn’t look at her. His head dropped, ashamed and exhausted. He felt the others gaze upon his tarnished eye from afar. He felt her pull him closer and she held his weary head in her arms. He found the strength to hold her, clutching the sleeves of her jacket.

  “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”

  SEVENTEEN

  The group's detour into the mountains had been longer than anticipated. They had packed their belongings and abandoned the watchtower that morning. The tower's radio equipment had suffered damages to the harsh conditions and the group didn't know how much longer they could last in the cold. For once the sun was shining. They had begun to make their way down the other side of the mountain. The route was still densely covered in snow but at least the wind had died down. Frank rested his exhausted body on the bark of a decayed tree stump. A moment of rest had been long overdue and the others took a minute to stretch their tired limbs.

  "Barry, I need those supplies," said Kara. Even though she had washed most the blood away, particles and faint trails still layered the pores of her skin. Barry was one of the few that managed to recover his supplies from the raid. He tossed his bag over to her and she knelt beside Frank, rummaging through its contents.

  "How's it holding up?" she asked.

  "Still stings like hell."

  "Well it might sting a little more in a sec."

  She pulled out Barry's medical kit and noticed Frank's uncomfortable glance. She knew he didn't want the others to see. He had gone out of his way to change the bandage in seclusion the last time. She felt the other's inquisitive eyes on them and decided to turn him away. Annie was by his side, holding his hand in support. Kara began working away on checking the wound. He didn't want Annie to see. She had seen the first time and the deprived look in her eyes filled him with guilt.

  "We haven't had a chance to talk," he said.

  "We haven't even had a chance to catch our breath," Annie replied.

  "I'm sorry about what I said."

  "I know you didn't mean it that way," she replied. "But you were right."

  "No. I was wrong. He may not be our boy, but what we're doing for him; we're going to do it until we know for sure that he's safe. If that means taking care of him while he's still young then that's what we'll do."

  Kara was distracted by his words. She paused for a moment but didn't want to interrupt and continued to change his bandages. Annie's smile warmed his heart. He could feel her hand squeeze his own and he gently circled his thumb across the top of her hand.

  "Are you going to tell them what you told us?" said Kara.

  "Yeah. They deserve to know."

  Mike used the time to polish the weapons at hand. The beauty of the AK-47 was in its simplicity. At first, most men who joined the Autark movement from the western world were against its representation. They saw it as a rebellious symbol throughout history. Sure it was arguably less accurate due to its heavier build, less adaptable and ergonomic, but the recruits didn't fully understand the genius in its employment. Its parts weren't small and dainty, they were big and robust and that reflected in its operation. The LPA had a limited budget for resources. They took to the AK for its reliability and economic advantage. It was a weapon that fired and very rarely jammed. One thing the grunts didn't take on board was the fact that the LPA operatives had done their research. The raiders themselves used the same exact models, the idea being that ammunition costs could be cut and used elsewhere. The LPA were encouraged to scavenge up the ammunition necessary from their fallen enemies. They let the raiders supply the ammunition for them.

  Mike glanced over to Kara who was finishing up on replacing Frank's bandages. He couldn't see the wound as Frank was faced away but his attention was all on Kara. She was calm and collected. Her head was in the right place and that was a rare sight in dark times like these. His discreet glance had turned into a more indiscreet gawp. She caught sight of him staring and he snapped back down to his task at hand. He moved on to the bolt action rifle; Carlos' Mosin Nagant. Cocking the bolt back, he began examining the inside of the chamber. He thought about the scout, a deceptive liar that led them out into the wilderness for all that time. How could he have not seen it? Mike was a man who valued honour and the valiant acts of the loyal. In his eyes, a man of Carlos' stature didn't deserve to carry a rifle with such a profound historical legacy. Its multiple variations over the years had made appearances in thirty-seven wars, including both world wars. Frustrated, he slammed the bolt back into place and overlooked the path ahead.

  Barry and Tracy sat together in the middle of the trail. Barry held Max's weary head in his hands and scratched beneath his chin and down around his belly.

  "You ever own a dog?" asked Tracy.

  "I-I-I did once. Was a long time ago though."

  "Can we get one for ourselves when this is all over?"

  He smiled and looked into her eyes over his perfectly round lenses. He was intimidated by her candid approach. Like him, she was burdened with many fears, but behind all that she was a force of nature. "Sh-sure we can," he replied. "I know a breeder down south. We'll get an English setter."

  "Part of the fun is choosing the dog. You're going to take that away from me?"

  "I-I-I am, yeah, but I'll let you name it."

  "Hmm. I don't think so, I'm awful. I mean I almost named Sam, 'Phil'."

  "Phil?" Barry said in a burst of laughter. "S-s-sounds like a middle-aged plasterer." They laughed together in the middle of the snow-glazed trail. The sunlight shone over them through the branches of the naked pines. Barry watched Derek approach with hesitance. Derek could tell that his presence was unwanted but he did so anyway. He was awkwardly hunched and seemed to be burdened with the weight of the guilt on his shoulders.

  "What do you want, Derek?" Tracy said abruptly. She scowled at him with squinted eyes. Barry felt her protective nature over him flourish. He felt safe with her and she acted differently around him. She was confident and brave, something he'd never seen before. Derek wringed the black beanie between his sausage fingers. "I shouldn't have been so quick to peg you," he said. "He got into my head."

  "Let’s just f-forget about it," replied Barry.

  "I just want this shit to be done with so I can get out of here."

  "Don't we all?" Tracy added. "You know what your problem is, Derek? You're a bully. If you spent more time helping us rather than moaning and losing your temper then maybe people would actually like you."

  Derek scoffed at her remark. "Fuck all that. I wasn't here to make friends. Once I get what’s coming to me I’ll be off. This place is fucked."

  "You still don't get it, do you?" said Tracy. She stood up tall and squared up to the ill-informed oaf. "Open your eyes. There's nothing coming to you because there's nothing left. The raiders are invading every settlement we know. For all we know, Elkford could be burned to a crisp and Javier Paraíso along with it."

  Derek didn't reply. He looked away, unable to hold her intense stare of judgement. He wringed the beanie even harder before stretching it out and stuffing it back over his balding head.

  "Guys, Frank wants to say something," Kara announced.

  Frank stepped forward. All eyes were on him. Barry thought Kara's interruption came at a good time. It probably defused things before they needlessly escalated any further. Annie stood supportively by Frank’s side. He observed the others. The group was drained. They stood hunched, weary from their travels. Charisma wasn't his strong suit, but they needed to hear something to keep them going. He looked into the eyes of every single one of them as he spoke.

  "Carlos wasn't who we thought he was. The truth is that the raiders made him an offer. An offer filled with empty promises. They poisoned his mind the same way they poisoned the minds of their captives. They’ve got that whole area locked off. We need to carry on, find a way through and make it to the harbour.”

  "How are we gonna do that?" Derek questioned. "Th
ere's got to be hundreds of them there and only seven of us, boy and mutt aside."

  "Reinforcements should be there by then."

  "But what if they aren't?"

  Frank hesitated. That possibility terrified him. He would die before succumbing to the raider's sadistic will. Although pessimistic, Derek was being realistic. What were they going to do? If LPA reinforcements didn't show, that would mean that this small group of individuals were Autark's last hope.

  "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

  Mike's attention was elsewhere. Frank saw him pace up ahead, half listening to his somewhat meagre attempt to boost morale. He pushed himself up on his tiptoes and craned his neck over the bumpy trail ahead. "Guys, I see a fence or something up ahead."

  The group followed Mike's lead to the symbol of potential inhabitants and structure. They discovered a barn and land surrounded by slant wooden fencing. The crops had died, shrivelled and wilting under the immense weight of the bitter snowfall. Winters in Autark had been most cruel over the past few years. Frank himself had missed out on a lot of trade due to the weather but usually managed to make up for it throughout the spring and summer. Kara and Mike volunteered to search the barn while the others waited by the gate. They walked side by side; rows of decrepit corn either side of their path, some completely flattened into the earth from where their stems had snapped in the storm.

  The barn doors were wide open. Mike and Kara entered with caution. The floor was littered in hay. Frosted crystallised dew glazed over its surface. Piled sacks of manure collected dust in the corner and bales of hay lost their cubic form. The place had been abandoned for some time. There was no trace of life to be found.

  "Check the hay loft," said Kara. Mike began climbing the wooden ladder without question. The beams creaked under pressure up above. She kept a vigilant watch by the door, scanning the surrounding crops. "Reckon we could defrost some of that corn?"

  "Worth a shot," he called out to her from above. "Best check the rats and other critters haven't got to it first."

  "I'll pick some on the way out," she replied. She could hear him rummaging around above. It was the distinct scraping of a burlap sack against the wooden floorboards above. A rough scratching noise. And then it stopped.

  "Kara?" he called out to her once more.

  "Yeah?"

  "Where'd you learn to dress wounds like that?"

  She smiled up through the floorboards even though she knew he couldn't see her. Her face tilted down at her feet in recollection. "I used to work with animals a lot back home."

  "Like a vet?"

  "Something like that. For the most part I was an inspector but I trained alongside a vet for two years. I spent a lot of time taking mistreated pets away from the hands of their incapable owners."

  "Sounds like a headache."

  "Believe me, it was."

  "Heads up," he said even louder. She turned and noticed the object fall parallel to the ladder. It plopped to the ground, a frayed burlap sack that had seen better days. Mike descended the ladder and together they regrouped to the sack. Mike flipped his survival blade open and tore a hole in the top of the sack. He plunged his hand inside and lifted its contents.

  "Corn seed," he grumbled.

  "Hmm."

  "It's better than nothing."

  "When a person chooses to eat the seed rather than plant it for the future, you know they're desperate."

  Mike scrunched the top of the sack closed and slung it over his shoulder. They returned outside and made their way back up towards the trail. Kara managed to find a couple cobs of corn that would be edible and stuffed them into her pack. The others were waiting in silence, anticipating the endless possibilities of their next meal. Mike didn't enjoy being the one to make their faces drop in disappointment.

  Frank and Barry led the group along the trail and when they reached the top of the mound the view stunned them into silence. It was a breathtaking panorama of rolling hills coated in expansive forests. They could see a horizontal split between the forests where the serpentine arc of the Grand River ran out to the ocean.

  "There it is," said Annie. Frank stared out to the patch of dreary concrete that stood out amongst the saturated foliage. A single radio tower peaked against the backdrop of the sky and a flock of birds glided leisurely across the landscape. It was maybe ten miles or so away. They were getting closer. The more he watched, the more flaws he discovered in the view; pocketed areas masked with rising smoke, most likely raider outposts. The roads would be littered with convoys and patrols. Getting there undetected would be tough, but there was no way they'd last a minute in a fight. Frank could feel the others waiting on him. They now looked to him for direction. Frank was no leader. Never was. Yet he felt newly appointed as the man to guide them on the rest of this perilous journey. He was terrified, but he could never show it. He closed his eye and channelled the fear through taut fists. He squeezed tight and released. No turning back. One last stretch to their destination. Frank began to walk. He crossed the rocky path down the base of the mountain and the others followed his lead into the woodlands below.

  EIGHTEEN

  The group had spoken little during their descent through the boreal forest. All Frank could think about were the many obstacles ahead. It kept him quiet, so he could only assume that it was also on everyone else's mind. They spent most of the day trekking north, away from the bitterness of the mountain's cold. Layers of snow gradually diminished over the course of their hike. They were out of the snow and back into the depths of the marshland forest.

  Mike and Kara were always watching the perimeter. Ever since Carlos' demise Frank had noticed a change in her. She seemed more determined, more focused. She had always reported to Carlos throughout the journey and now there was no superior for her to call to. She seemed free, unbound from the shackles of hierarchy. She spent most of her time with Mike, learning new skills and absorbing the knowledge from his past experience of military service. They had worked out a schedule amongst themselves and figured out ways of communicating via calls and hand gestures.

  Mike calculated the average distance to the Grand River from the vista they had feasted their eyes on back up the mountain. The rest of the group followed about fifty metres behind. Frank lagged behind the others. His condition was worsening. His wretched thigh pounded with every step. He could feel the friction of flesh and bone rubbing together. He unscrewed the cap of his canteen and took small sips. There was not much left and their chance of finding clean water was beginning to look scarcer as the day went on. Barry caught up alongside him and placed his chubby hand upon his back.

  "N-n-not far now," he said with reassurance.

  Frank tightened the cap and slung the canteen back over his shoulder. He felt a pulsing sensation tighten in his muscles. His face churned to absorb the pain and he released a pathetic grunt. The shoulder was still sore from the plunge he took against the tree. Even the slightest of movement caused him masses of discomfort.

  "You all right?" Barry asked.

  "I'm fine. Just hurts a little."

  "You know, I've b-been thinking," Barry continued. "Once we're done with this, we can help each other s-s-start up again like before."

  Frank continued walking alongside Barry, half-listening to the stuttering man's wave of future prospect. He could see he was getting excited. His mind bounced from cloud to cloud in those dangerous heights above.

  "We could even b-band together for the trade, help each other out, you know?"

  "Barry," said Frank. He stopped him abruptly. Frank turned to face him. The others continued ahead. Their pace began to slow, listening over their shoulders yet still moving as to not make their eavesdropping so apparent.

  "Look at this," said Frank, pointing up to the damaged eye wrapped in blood-stained bandages. "This is real, Barry. Please don't let your guard down on me. Not now. We're so close and I need you by my side so we can finish this."

  Barry nodded in a burst of rapid movemen
t. He looked away, trying his best not to make contact with the intimidating new feature around Frank's eye. Three sharp whistles brought his attention back to the group. They could have easily been mistaken for the call of a nightingale. Heads spun to its call and they stopped to listen. It was Mike's signal. All clear ahead. The sounds of flowing water came into earshot. The Grand River. It was close, maybe only a hundred metres away. Frank made his way to the front of the group with Max and together the group pushed their way through the forest ahead.

  Frank began to see the outline of Mike through the brush. He faced away from him, watching the surrounding area ahead. They waited momentarily, lingering just outside the edge of the tree line. The first thing Frank noticed was the air. There was room to breathe. The forest beyond the boreal mountain was cold but its depths were suffocating and restrictive. The thick air of the mountain lingered down into the valleys below and now they were finally beginning to escape it. From where they stood the Grand River was far calmer than they had previously witnessed. Its waters flowed at a steady pace and it seemed wider than he had once remembered. Beyond the water was a small incline that led up to a strip of flat land, most likely a trail of some sort. Everybody stood at the edge of the tree line, frightened of stepping out too far into the open in fear that someone should see them. They scanned the area across the river but could only see a few trees and grass. They stood there in silence for a minute that felt like hours.

  "We're going to have to cross," said Kara after some time.

  "What about the current?" Mike asked.

  "It’s slow enough for us to withstand it." She stepped out into the open and approached the water's edge. "This area is shallower than the rest. Its narrow but it will do."