by Lissa Bryan
“Not really a guard.” The kid licked his lips. “I mean, what I’m supposed to do is tell them if anyone’s coming so they can …” He looked around at his audience and fell silent, dropping his head to stare down at the ground.
“So they can rob them,” Pearl said, her voice as flat and hard as iron. “Tell me, kid, how many families have you lured in to their deaths with a welcoming smile?”
“None!” The boy turned a pleading face up to her, tears making tracks in the dirt on his cheeks. “They’ve been complaining about it … no one has come by for a while now. I heard the men complaining about signs warning them off.”
“Hmm.” Pearl didn’t look like she believed him, and unlike Justin, Carly wasn’t able to detect any subtle signs that would reveal when she was faking it.
Justin knelt down and bound the kid’s hands behind his back with rope. “We’ll deal with you later.”
“Deal with me how?” The kid looked around at each of them, alarmed.
“Probably go more in your favor if you’d shut up right about now,” Justin said, and his smile sent a chill down Carly’s spine, even though she knew he was pretending.
The kid had a brain. He shut up, though his eyes still darted from face to face, pleading, terrified.
“He gives you any trouble, just go ahead and kill him,” Justin said to Stacy, who had to use humane mousetraps in her kitchen because she couldn’t kill the mice who invaded her pantry. She nodded, though, as if she would do as she’d been told.
He turned to Kross and looked at his watch. “You’re up.”
Kross took a deep breath. For all his outward badassery, he was still only seventeen, and for a moment, he looked it. Then resolve hardened his features, and he reached down to shoulder the two large packs. Their weight bowed him backward for a moment, but he headed off into the night.
“For home.” Justin said.
“Colby,” they all replied in unison.
It was their countersign. But Justin said if everything went as planned and they all stayed in their assigned roles, it wouldn’t be needed. But, as he’d said with a small smile, plans had a way of going to shit. That was why Justin had drilled them again and again in the half a dozen or so contingency plans he had devised. Carly couldn’t remember a single one of them at the moment, and her heart hammered so hard, it almost drowned out his soft command for them all to take their positions. He paused for a moment, then grabbed Carly and kissed her, hard.
“I love you,” she said.
He kissed her again. “You’re my everything. Stay with Mindy. Promise me.”
“I will if I can.”
He grimaced at the prevarication, but it was the best she could do. She grabbed her rifles—he’d insisted on two—and slung her bag of ammo over her shoulder and followed the others out into the night. Justin caressed her cheek again before he departed, as if he had to have one final touch.
She followed Mindy up onto the ridge, across the river from the town. They settled down in its edge, and Mindy set up her high-powered rifle on its stand. She had a “night-vision scope” she and Justin had devised, using part of an old camcorder that had a night mode, held on to an ordinary rifle scope with what Mindy referred to with a wry smile as “a sophisticated system of rubber bands and styrofoam blocks.” Justin and Stan had real scopes on their rifles, and both had offered to trade, but she thought they should keep them because they were closer to the targets, and thus in more danger. Mindy’s makeshift scope looked crude, but it was effective. Justin promised to get her a real night scope when this was over, and Mindy had just smiled.
“I hope to hell to never need it again,” she’d said to Carly when he had stepped away.
Theirs was an unimpeded view of the bridge. They could even see the campfire in front of the courthouse and the small group of men who sat around it, completely unaware their lives would be ending in moments.
Justin had trained them well. Carly saw no movement from the others as they slipped into position. Not even shadows.
Any moment now …
Leaving Carly behind and heading into Clayton was the hardest thing Justin had ever done. Every instinct he had screamed at him to stay with her during this battle, to protect what was most important to him, rather than take this proactive role. He reminded himself that if everything went according to plan, she would be far from the battle itself, picking off Marcus’s men from a distance. But he well knew the propensity for plans going awry.
There was another picket stationed at the end of the street between the Victorian occupied by Marcus’s men and the courthouse. Justin crept toward him, keeping low to hide in the overgrown vegetation that used to be someone’s lawn.
The starless skies above and the scent of crushed grass brought back memories of that other night, long ago, when he had done the same thing to try to rectify a mistake, aware he might be making another even as he moved toward it. He could almost feel the weight of the ink in his skin over his heart, those initials twined in a single design.
It made his heart speed up, and he forced himself to still until he calmed again. This wasn’t a mistake. It wasn’t.
The picket was seated in a lawn chair, reading a porno mag by a flashlight. So engrossed was he that he never noticed Justin make a path behind him. Until the moment Justin grabbed his chin and pulled his head back to bare his throat to his blade, the man was oblivious. His flashlight tumbled to the ground. Justin picked it up, turned it off, and slipped it into one of the pockets of his cargo pants.
Justin checked the guy’s pistol and found only three rounds in the clip. With a smile, he added the gun to his own arsenal and headed toward the courthouse.
An explosion shook the earth and lit the night sky with a brilliant flash of orange.
Right on time.
Even expecting the explosion, the force of it made Carly jump. Justin had set the small barrels of fertilizer in the previous evenings, disguising them with mud and river debris and correctly guessing that Marcus’s gang didn’t check the underside of the bridge for anything suspicious.
It was a hell of a blast. Her eardrums rang, and she had to blink hard until the spots disappeared from her vision.
Carly looked at her watch. Pearl would be setting the fire to the back of the house by lobbing Molotov cocktails through the windows right about now. Each bottle was full of Justin’s improvised Napalm, a mixture that clung to whatever it touched as it burned. The fire was intended to push out anyone who hadn’t already run outside at the sound of the explosion. In the front yard, they would be directly in Carly and Mindy’s line of fire. Except for his and Pearl’s role, Justin had planned that everything else would be “accomplished at a distance,” as he put it, keeping Carly and Mindy as far from combat as possible.
Shouts. Carly could see a faint orange glow from behind the house, growing brighter by the second.
She and Mindy exchanged a glance, and then both of them aimed their guns.
Figures poured from the house, running toward the bridge, the beams of their flashlights bobbing. As planned, Carly and Mindy waited until the first of the group had reached the end of the bridge before opening fire.
The shape of valley where Clayton was situated would make the shots echo, Justin had told them, and initially confuse the targets about where the shots were coming from. He was right—the men at the foot of the bridge stared at their dropping companions and spun around in confusion, looking for a gunman. It gave Mindy enough time to squeeze off three shots in rapid succession.
Mindy was a much better shot than Carly. With cool efficiency, she picked them off one by one. Carly had to fire several times, trying to avoid the panic of missing and seeing her target run. That panic would make it more likely to miss. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly to make her aim steady. Lead the target and pull the trigger. Did the darkness make it easier, turning the people she was shooting into featureless outlines? She was sure it did. She had to blink tears out of her eyes, but
she pulled the trigger.
Shots rang out from the other two enfilade positions, to the east and west. That would be Justin and Stan. Pearl was waiting on the south side of the town for any that might try to escape by heading away from the gunshots and explosion.
“Carly! Down below, crossing the river!” Mindy scrambled to her feet and tried to get her rifle off its stand and shouldered to aim at a figure emerging from the river. Carly fired until her rifle clicked empty but missed with every shot. Clods of dirt exploded up around his feet where her shots impacted the ground.
“Shit!”
He disappeared out of their view.
“Stay here.” Carly dropped her rifle and took off through the small patch of trees toward the road.
“No, Carly, don’t—” Mindy shouted.
But Carly didn’t stop. She pulled the pistol from the holster on her hip as she ran, her thumb finding the safety button with familiar ease.
She jumped from the tree line and landed on the pavement, right behind him. “Drop it!”
He had a pistol in one hand, and he let it clatter to the pavement, lifting his hands to the sky.
“Turn around,” Carly said. He did, and she started in surprise. “Marcus?”
“The one and only.” He gave her a small smile. “I didn’t realize it was you when you shouted.”
“You’re running?”
“Wouldn’t you?”
“No, I wouldn’t.” Someone screamed, a sound cut short by the crack of a gunshot. Carly flinched. “This is the life you chose.”
Marcus gave a snort. “I’ve got men to feed, and I’m not going to spend my time grubbing in the dirt like you assholes, waiting for someone stronger to come along and take it. Well, you’ve got me. I surrender. Are you going to cuff me?” He smiled again, and this time, a hint of mockery twisted one corner.
“No pris—” Carly barely got out the first word before he lunged at her.
She managed to squeeze off a shot, but it went wide and Marcus plowed into her with the force of a wrecking ball, knocking her back onto the pavement. The gun clattered out of her hand across the blacktop. All the air in her lungs whooshed out in a surprised grunt as he came down on top of her. His knee came up into the side of her ribs at the same time his fist connected with the underside of her jaw. Black flashes exploded in her vision, but her ribs were protected by the vest’s padding.
His eyes flicked up to where her gun lay, and he dove forward to grab for it. Carly thrust up her elbow, aiming for his throat, but caught him on the underside of his jaw instead. Marcus let out a snarl and punched at her face again.
Carly snapped her head to the side, and his fist connected with the ground. He howled, and she twisted under him, managing to roll over on her stomach, propelling herself forward on her elbows.
“You fucking bitch!” Marcus grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. Carly suddenly realized what a vulnerable position she’d put herself into as he rammed her head forward. Fortunately, one of her hands was there to keep her face from cracking into the pavement. She reached around and dug her nails as hard as she could into his skin, raking furrows in his flesh while reaching for the gun. He yelped in pain but didn’t release her.
Her hand couldn’t quite reach the gun, but her fingers closed around something, a loose fragment of asphalt. Carly gripped the chunk of pavement in her fist and swung at his head, catching him on the temple with it. Marcus let go, jerking backward just enough to allow Carly to surge forward, freeing herself of his weight. She rammed her leg back, and her boot heel connected with soft flesh.
Carly heard a choked grunt but didn’t pause long enough to determine the damage. She scrambled forward and grabbed the gun, flipping over and firing up into his gut and chest as he reared over her once more, blood streaming down his face from the split skin next to his hairline.
Marcus jerked back from the punch of the bullets. He stared at Carly, shock widening his eyes, and sat back on his heels.
“That was your problem, you know,” Carly said. “You always underestimated us.”
His mouth worked but no sound emerged as he pitched forward onto the asphalt. The back of his shirt was a shredded mass of blood and gore.
She waited. Marcus drew two more gurgling breaths and then stilled. Remembering Justin’s admonition to “double tap,” she put one more round in him, just to be sure.
Carly’s hands were shaking too much to fit her pistol back into its holster, so she carried it in hand as she climbed back up the ridge.
“F-for home?” Mindy called as she heard the crunch of Carly’s approaching steps.
“Colby,” Carly said and could see the outline of her friend’s form relax.
“Did you get him?”
“Yeah. I got him.” Carly sat down beside her. The gunfire had tapered off, and all she could hear now was the sound of the night around them. Mindy put a hand on Carly’s shoulder, and she jumped.
“Let’s head back,” Mindy said. She dug in her pocket and handed Carly a tissue.
Carly looked at it in confusion for a moment before she realized she was still crying. She scrubbed her face, wincing when she touched the sore spot where Marcus had struck her. She gave Mindy a wobbling smile. “I hate that I cry after stuff like this.”
Mindy shrugged. “Some people smoke. Some people drink. Some people cry.”
“What do you do?”
“I pray.”
“I didn’t know you were religious.”
“I’m not. I guess you could say I feel better if I talk it out in my mind, even if no one is listening. Maybe that makes it better, actually.”
They walked down the embankment, through the canopy of trees. Moonlight filtered down through the swaying leaves. “Do you think that’s true? That no one is listening to us?”
“I don’t know anymore. Years ago, I thought I knew. Well … I thought I knew everything, once upon a time. Then, everything changed. Everything. I once went to a protest against the war in Iraq. I said things like war is never justifiable, that there’s always a better option. Once upon a time.”
“I’m sorry,” Carly said. “I’m sorry I dragged you—”
“Carly, I wouldn’t be here if I still felt that way. I’m not the same person anymore. Sometimes, I’m not even sure if I ever knew that girl. The further away from her I get, the more she seems like a character in a book I once read. Someone naive and bland. Maybe even a little dim. I’m not even sure I’d like her now if I met her. I’d probably be sort of impatient with her idealism and empty rhetoric. After all, it’s easy to have all of those ideals if you’re never going to be challenged on them. I don’t think I was wrong for thinking that way. It’s just … it doesn’t fit anymore, you know? It would be like wearing a wedding dress around all the time.”
And wasn’t that what Carly had ultimately decided? That she wouldn’t be like Miss Havisham, wearing that ancient, ragged wedding gown when the day for wearing it had long passed and the world had moved on?
Stan was already in the burned-out barn when Carly and Mindy approached. He grabbed Mindy in a fierce hug as soon as he saw her.
“Is Justin okay?” Carly asked him.
“Fine. He and Pearl are doing one final sweep before we head into the town.”
“Did we … did we lose anyone?”
Stan was silent.
“Who?” she asked, and it sounded like someone else’s voice.
“Kross,” Stan said.
Carly felt like she’d been punched. “How? Was it the explosion?” She knew the kid didn’t have enough experience with explosives. She should have insisted—
“It looked like he’d been shot,” Stan said.
“Looked like? What do you mean? Was he—?”
“I couldn’t tell.” Stan lifted his hands. “Justin could probably look at the wound and tell you what happened. As far as I could determine … I mean, it looked like to me …”
Mindy pulled him into her arms again. “It’
s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay,” Stan said. “I know people die in war. I know that. But it’s not okay. It’s not. We shouldn’t have let him come with us. He was too young for this shit. Too young to be shot like—” Stan kicked at the earth and looked up at Carly. “I know you’re … you’re doing your best here, and I’m not really angry at you. I swear. But right now, I sort of need to be mad at someone.” His eyes pleaded with her.
Carly nodded.
She heard footsteps. “For home?” Carly lifted her gun.
“For Colby,” Justin replied. He stepped into the light, and sweet relief flooded through Carly. He looked tired and dejected, but he was unharmed.
She ran to him and gave him a hard, fast hug. “Is everyone else—”
“Yeah.” Justin ran his hands over her back, as though assuring himself she wasn’t bleeding. “Are you okay? What happened to your face?”
“Later.” Carly was touching him, too, running her hands over his body and reveling in the feeling of the strong thump of his heart beneath her cheek.
More than anything, she wanted to take him off to some quiet, private spot where they could look one another over and then spend a long time—a week or more—cuddling together with their baby until the horror of this faded from them, like a bad smell dissipating. But part of being a community was sharing the healing of wounds and burying their dead with honor.
“Where’s Pearl?” Carly asked.
“In town. Carly … there’s something you have to see.” Justin had that impassive expression on his face, and Carly gazed at him wordlessly, with dread in her heart, because she had an idea what it would be.
He released her after another swift hug and went over to the crumbled wall, where he reached down to haul the scrawny kid he’d captured earlier to his feet.
“Move.” His voice was firm but not unkind.
He propelled the boy in front of them. The kid was crying but trying hard to hide it. His soft sniffles were almost hidden by the sound of their steps on the dry leaves.
Carly followed Justin with the other Colby fighters back to Clayton. They crossed the shallow river, Carly shivering as the cool water soaked into her boots and plastered the legs of her khakis to her skin. She did not look at the bodies they passed, not even the one that had been laid out on a canvas tarp, its arms crossed gently over its chest. She heard Mindy, behind her, make a soft sound, but did not comment.