Manifest Destiny: Part One: Lost In Limbo

by Kay, Sabra M.

  Her father was one of the captured. The Black Soldiers had intercepted the ragtag army of resistance fighters just before they reached their goal.

  “Selah, c’mon.”

  Dillon’s voice brought her out of her reverie. She threw off the blanket and borrowed jacket, and got up. She was hungry, thirsty and in dire need of a bathroom, but now was not the time to start talking about her needs. She wished she had gotten up earlier, slipped out and relieved herself.

  Sid looked Selah over, then turned to Dillon. “Dillon, do you think she should stay here? We can come back for her after we know it’s clear.”

  “No. We go together.”

  His answer relieved her. As frightening as it was out there, the thought of being holed up in the safe house by herself, waiting for their return, was too much. She would go insane.

  The four of them set out across the field, through the rows of charred, levelled houses and to the main street. The sky was gray and the air was thick and still. They moved down the abandoned street and toward a row of small homes that were largely intact.

  Sid and Gabe went into each home, searching for anyone who might be hiding. Dillon and Selah stood out in the street, keeping their eyes out for movement and their ears out for noise. After they searched that row, they began going through the remains of the homes that were more damaged, searching the few shops at the end of the main road where it stopped and teed off with another road.

  They searched for hours, looking for signs of life. In a couple of the burned-out buildings, Gabe said it looked like there were some charred remains left behind, but there was no trace of the shooting victims. They wandered to some of the outlying homes and trailers, but there was nothing. They convened once again in the middle of the main street.

  “What now?” Sid bore a defeated look on his face. Alan, his wife and his children were nowhere to be found.

  He strode away from the group. The charred double-wide trailer he had just exited had a chipped, soot-stained picket fence still intact. He began kicking it over, snapping the pickets. He looked like a kid throwing a tantrum. It would have been funny if not for the situation. There was clearly nothing left to do. The Voraks had intervened for reasons they could not imagine. The Black Soldiers had gone, leaving nothing behind. The entire town had vanished. Mothers, children, wounded and dead. All that remained were standing in the middle of an empty street. Lost, tired and grieving.

  “I need to find Olson. We need to fight back. There is nothing keeping us here. Let’s get the hell out.” Dillon set his expression in a look of grim determination that was not at all at home on his face.

  Sid held up his hand. “Wait a minute—Leave? Just leave? We can’t do that. What if they come back?”

  “They aren’t coming back.” Dillon spoke quietly but firmly.

  “We don’t know that.” Gabe spoke next, but with no conviction.

  He squatted down off to the side, turning over a remnant of something in his hand. It looked to be a picture frame.

  “Why would they be brought back?”

  “How do we know that they were all taken? Some could have gotten out, headed out or up in the hills.”

  “Yeah, we should be walking around, out searching.”

  “Fair enough, I get it. Do what you need, but I am leaving.”

  Now he looked to Selah, and she knew it was time for a decision.

  “You said your brother was joining up with the resistance? Going to the main camp?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, my brother runs that camp. And your settlement is on the way.”

  “When do you want to get going?”

  That settled it. They went back to the safe house, Gabe and Sid prepared to scout the surrounding area and search for anyone who might have escaped the attack. They would stay behind, search for clues, and be ready in case any of the townspeople returned.

  Selah and Dillon prepped for their journey. He filled a canvas pack with a change of clothes, socks, a first aid kit and dry goods. They tracked down a change of clothes for Selah. He furnished her with a gun and ammo. They both loaded up with water.

  The goodbyes were brief. Sid reported that he found more remains, what appeared to be children hiding in a closet. They would stay there, he said, even if they found no more survivors.

  “Come back for us, man. We’ll be here,” Gabe said.

  “If you want to help, there’s a place in the resistance for you. We could use you,” was Dillon’s reply.

  He didn’t speak of his mother, and Selah didn’t ask. She didn’t ask how he was feeling, what he was thinking. She didn’t need to.

  At a little past noon, they headed out. They were on the main highway in less than half an hour, and they stayed just to the right of it, down a steep embankment, to avoid being seen. They walked in silence, both wondering if they would see their family again.

  Chapter Eight

  Dillon and Selah spoke little on the first leg of their journey.

  “We’ll make good time if we don’t stop much or waste energy talking.”

  Selah bristled a bit at that; what was he trying to say? She didn’t think of herself as a chatterbox, but apparently Dillon did.

  Whatever, there isn’t anything to talk about, anyway.

  They heard voices across the road a couple of times, coming from over a hill or ridge. They crouched down behind bushes when a pack of teenagers passed. They looked young, a couple of them were on skateboards, one was riding a bike and pulling a small trailer. They seemed harmless enough, but there was no reason to take chances.

  Selah kept up the pace with Dillon, as the last thing she wanted to do was keep him waiting for her. Sunset came, and Dillon announced that it was time to stop for the night. Selah was relieved; her feet were aching, she was hungry and still suffering from her injuries. She had wanted to say so countless times, but bit her tongue.

  They found a sheltered spot, a good distance from the road, which backed up to a steep, rocky hill with thick brush on either side. They wouldn’t make a fire.

  The twilight deepened into darkness, and an awkward silence hung between them. Their brief moment of quiet intimacy, standing on the ridge before the sunset, was shattered by the devastating attack that had killed Dillon’s friends and mother. Somehow, that event drove a wedge between them just as their relationship was beginning.

  She wondered, not for the first time if he blamed the attack on the fact that he had rescued her, that she had somehow brought trouble to their settlement. There was no reason to believe that there was a connection to the attack on the bus and the bombing of Dillon’s settlement, but still, Selah felt a vibe from him that indicated she should keep her distance, and he would do the same.

  Selah arranged her bedroll as best she could on the uneven ground. She brought out beef jerky, raisins and stale crackers. Dillon opened a can of beans and they sat side by side, each deep in their own heads. Dillon broke the silence at last.

  “I can’t believe my Mom is gone.” He stared into the can, stirring its contents slowly and blinking rapidly. “I should have kept looking for her. I shouldn’t have given up.”

  “I’m sorry, Dillon. I know what it’s like to lose parents.”

  He didn’t respond, but began eating again. Not for the first time, Selah cursed her inability to find the right words. She felt a need to comfort him, but really, what could she say? There was no way to make the loss better, or convince him that he had done all he could do.

  They went back to eating. The night was quiet, save for the crickets and occasional rustling of nocturnal creatures in the brush. The air was chilly. Selah pulled her blanket up over her head. Sleeping outside was not her thing. She had done it now and then when her family had fled the resistance camp, but it had been a while since her last camp-out. She didn’t love it then, and loved it even less now.

  Dillon sat up, looking out into the darkness as Selah drifted off to a restless and uncomfortable sleep.

 
*

  The night passed without incident. Selah rose before Dillon. She got off the ground slowly, her knees popping as she struggled to straighten herself. As she stood, she stretched out a bit from side to side and rolled her shoulders. She inventoried her still-healing injuries. Left knee swollen, partly from her run-in with the bandits, partly from walking. Ribs, bruised and still very sore, from her run in with Ruthie. Arm and shoulder, better but still aching, a combination of the two run-ins. She felt a wave of self-pity creep over her and into her psyche, but she brushed it aside. There was no time. She couldn’t sulk in front of her window anymore, waiting for Nat or Kent to come in and say reassuring things to her. Those days were over.

  She left Dillon sleeping and searched for a secure spot to relieve herself.

  They set out just as the sun started to warm their chilled bones. Dillon set a quick pace, and Selah struggled to keep up.

  “We walked a good bit yesterday. I think we should be there before dark if we keep a good pace,” he said.

  Selah tried to respond but was too winded, so she just nodded.

  Dillon laughed. “Do you need to take a break? ‘Cause if you do, it’s okay.” His tone was playful, but she thought she sensed a tinge of condescension.

  She kept walking.

  “Selah, did you hear me? You can take a break.”

  “If you need a break, just say so,” she smiled. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re stubborn.” He laughed. “I like that in a girl.”

  They walked on. The sun was overhead, but a cool breeze provided sporadic relief from the increasing heat. They continued to keep off the road, but they neither saw nor heard anyone.

  They stopped at a shady spot for a drink and a snack. Selah eased herself into a sitting position. The swelling in her knee was so bad that she considered cutting off her pant leg. Dillon regarded the small, shady little grove they stumbled upon.

  “I’ll be right back.” He disappeared through the trees.

  Leaning against the trunk of a tree, Selah thought back to their earlier conversation. She knew Dillon was grieving, and would no doubt continue to do so for some time. He had changed before her eyes from a young man filled with warmth and light to a man carrying a burden, his eyes dark and his face hardened. She peered through the trees, searching the sky for the enemy. They had done this.

  She still grieved her parents. Some days, it felt more like she grieved the idea of them, of life before the Voraks. After her mother died, her father changed. The relentless pursuit of a way to fight against the Voraks, and then against Worldcorp, changed him. He lost his easy laugh, and rarely showed affection. They had been close at one time, but the last couple years before his death he seemed to focus more on Nieve, and then Kent. His interest was that they know how to defend themselves, that they would be able to fight.

  Selah’s anxiety grew progressively worse during that time, and she suspected it was one of the reasons he sent them away before he went on his final mission. Even then, she had begun to feel like a burden.

  Her thoughts drifted back to Dillon. Was she a burden to him?

  She thought of Nieve. She still didn’t understand why she had abandoned her and Kent. They all could have left together. Found a new settlement.

  I still feel so lost without Nieve. Why? Why did she leave me?

  Dillon emerged from the trees and grabbed his pack. Selah drew the back of her hand across her eyes, hoping Dillon wouldn’t notice.

  “You crying?”

  “No. Hell no. Just got something in my eye.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed her pack. It felt heavier each time she lifted it. Ugh, she thought. I have got to stop being so weak.

  The short break refreshed them both, and Dillon seemed to have a spring in his step. Conversation was brief, but came easier than it had the night before. Dillon motioned Selah to move back toward the road. The flat asphalt was easier to walk on, no tripping over branches or rocks. They only went a short distance when they reached the shortcut Dillon insisted would shave hours off their journey: a dirt road off the highway.

  Dillon motioned Selah to go in that direction. Trees lined the road, creating an archway of green. Specks of sunlight danced on the reddish-brown dirt. While the setting was serene enough, the twisting feeling in her gut insisted that all was not well.

  She brushed it off. The trip had been uneventful, and there was no reason to believe it wouldn’t continue to be so. It was just her anxiety again. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling. The air was humid, the shade was welcome and the silence was deafening. Sweat began pouring down the sides of her face, and she wasn’t sure it was just the heat.

  Dillon stopped short about ten minutes later. He motioned for Selah to stay put, and put his finger up to his lips. She turned, looking behind her, and then kept her eyes on Dillon. Once again, he put his hand up. Setting his bag down, he stepped off of the dirt road and between two trees. There was brush rising up each side of the road, and it only took three or four steps in before he disappeared.

  Great, she thought. Let’s separate. That’s always a good idea. She smiled in spite of herself. She was being paranoid.

  A cooling breeze swept across her sweat-soaked skin. She closed her eyes, shrugged off her pack and allowed herself to relax.

  Minutes passed and there was no sign of Dillon. He should have only been gone a minute or two, she thought.

  She looked to her right and left, there was no one on the road. Scanning the brush, she saw no activity. Insects filled the air with a faint buzz and birds chirped quietly amongst themselves. Uncertainty filled her and her chest tightened. Should she stay here? Should she go find him? I’m a sitting duck right now.

  “I’m not just gonna sit here like an idiot,” she mumbled.

  Shouldering her pack and grabbing Dillon’s, she entered the brush, weighed down and stumbling awkwardly. After the initial few feet of thick foliage, the trees and brush opened up and she was able to walk more freely. She stayed down for a moment, searching for movement, color, shadows, anything. She heard no movement, no tell-tale rustling or snapping twigs. What the hell, Dillon?

  She took a few steps and pondered the situation. At least right here she was off the road and somewhat concealed. She would see or hear Dillon if he exited the brush to get back to the road. From here, she had a fairly clear view in front and on both sides. What to do, Selah? Stay put? Look for him? What if he’s gone and doesn’t come back? Do I just go home alone?

  Shaking her head, she decided to start walking. At least that was doing something. At least if she kept moving, she wasn’t just standing around, letting fear dig its claws in any further. She walked forward and slightly right. It was a random choice, but it looked as though the ground inclined a bit, maybe if she walked out about 30 feet or so she could get a better view. She moved as quietly as she could, but with her backpack and Dillon’s duffel, she still felt awkward and heavy of foot.

  The ground was packed dirt with a thick mat of dead leaves and twigs. She tried to avoid them as best she could, but it wasn’t much use. She knew she was making plenty of noise; if anyone was in the immediate area, they would hear her.

  A noise in the distance. Where was it coming from? Was it voices? She stood still for a moment, holding her breath. Finally, she dropped the bags and walked slowly. A tree about ten feet ahead looked like a good spot to listen and get a better look.

  She stopped and leaned against the tree, certain she heard voices. Talking—no, laughing. It was definitely laughing. Chills ran down her spine and sweat trickled down the back of her neck. It wasn’t Dillon she heard. She peeked out. There was nothing to see, just more trees. Creeping forward and staying low, she sought the next bit of good cover. From there the ground sloped down, revealing the source of the noise.

  Several tents and a couple of makeshift lean-to’s were clustered next to what looked like a dried up creek bed. Clothes hung on a line between two trees. She stared at the man standing with his back to her.
He was smoking and from what she could see, he was alone. But watching for something.

  Chaos burst out of the bushes to the left. Two men emerged from the trees dragging Dillon along with them. Right away she could see the blood on his face. His hands were bound and he was gagged, but he still appeared to be struggling. Selah ducked down and took a quick look behind her. There was no one around that she could see.

  Okay. Think. They probably know I am out here, or at least suspect that there was someone with him. He would have said he was alone. They won’t believe him. If nothing else, they will be looking for his supplies. What the hell do I do?

  At the moment, all she could see were the three men. She wondered if they had guns. They were obviously on their own and most likely not from an authorized settlement. The corporate guards did regular sweeps, looking for guns. This was strictly enforced. But, outside of the settlements, people made their own laws, and there were still weapons to be found.

  Even if they didn’t have guns, though, she and Dillon were outnumbered. He was bound and looked pretty beat up. She still had the knife that Dillon had given her the night of the attack, but she couldn’t see any way that she could get any kind of advantage.

  She watched helplessly as Dillon struggled against his captors. He managed a solid kick to the big man’s leg and was paid back with several blows to his midsection. They let go of him and he slumped to the ground. One of the men kicked him a few times, the other two jeering and egging him on. She could hear them talking but couldn’t make out the words. She thought she heard one man ask Dillon where his friends were hiding, but she couldn’t be sure.

  It’s only a matter of time before they find me.

  It felt as though there wasn’t enough air. Instinct tried to get her feet to move, to run. If she made it down the road and found a good place to hide she might have a chance. It was decision time. She pulled the knife from its sheath and started looking for the best way to get to the camp without being seen. If she circled wide, she could maybe get closer before being spotted. If only one ran up to her, thinking she was just a weak girl, she might be able to stick him and reduce the number of enemies to two. The men were currently facing away from her. She decided to circle to the right, where there was more cover.