Over a hundred soldiers labored on the swamp shore. Men with axes, saws, and hatchets carved into the forested landscape. Other men carried wood. The pounding of hammers on nails echoed across the marsh. The base of a square structure was forming.
Steele scanned the shoreline. A short broad man with a bald head stood near the structure, overseeing its construction. Jackson. Steele kept his binoculars trained on him.
Steele flexed his hand. It was still and frozen stiff in the cold dawn. He painfully squeezed his fingers shut. His nerves screamed along his arm.
A slender form slid next to him. Tess crossed her arms over her small chest in an attempt to stay warm.
She watched for a moment before she spoke softly. “What the heck is he doing?”
“I don’t know. Probably building some sort of siege engine,” Steele muttered.
What are you doing, Jackson? Aside from bottling me up with nowhere to go. Steele’s gut churned as he watched the men assemble whatever evil Jackson had in store for them.
KEVIN
Colonel Jackson’s Camp, IL
Kevin watched the soldiers throw a round log across the top of the structure through only one eye. The other eye had swollen shut where the stock of an M4A1 had come crashing down into his eye socket. Jackson’s men must have been watching them set up the whole time. Kevin and his crew had no idea they were even close before he was looking up the receiving end of a carbine.
He shifted his weight on his knees. His legs ached. Locked into place for so long, his knees begged to stand up and be moved around. The woods around him were damp and the ground wet, the moisture having soaked through his pants long ago. His knuckles knocked one another, pinned together at his wrists with plastic zip-ties.
Does Jackson think Steele will lead a nighttime raid to take us back? Steele’s brave but not stupid. Any assault he could conduct over the marshy ground would be shot to pieces.
A trio of soldiers secured the top beam down with nails and rope. Two held it steady while the other hammered away. He had known from the beginning but hadn’t let on to his partners in crime. Between the platform and trusses, any student of history would have known no matter the crudeness of the structure.
Kevin turned his head on an aching neck toward Tom and O’Hara. The two huddled together heads dipped in defeat. Tom’s long hair hung limply toward the ground. Their arms were wrapped around their sides, their hands tied together in the back like Kevin’s. Kevin wasn’t sure if they had any idea of the means of their destruction being erected right before their eyes.
A young soldier with his helmet pushed up on his forehead watched them. He burned a cigarette in his mouth, staring out at nothing. He inhaled from the cigarette sporadically every few seconds. His M4 carbine lay across his lap lazily.
Kevin’s voice was hoarse with dryness. “Water.”
The soldier’s eyelids drooped, not acknowledging Kevin’s request. The soldier said something to himself and smiled, taking another drag off his cigarette.
Kevin called out louder. “Water.” His voice came out harsh and dry like a crinkled up piece of paper. He wished the man would at least give him a swig of booze. Anything at this point. His body yearned for liquid more than it did for oxygen.
The soldier blinked. He glanced over at Kevin as if he had seen him for the first time. “What’d you say?” He didn’t move, still trying to make out if Kevin was part of his reality or his daydream.
“Can we have some water? Whiskey if you got it.” Tom lifted his long-haired head up, hoping.
The young soldier didn’t move. “No water for insurgents.”
Kevin sighed. “We aren’t insurgents.”
“What’ ya call setting up roadside bombs to blow up red-blooded American troops? Figured Sergeant Yates would have put you down in the dirt where you belong when we’s found ya. Cause that’s what he does. Sets things straight.” The young man flung out his cigarette and another found its place in his fingers. “I can’t even believe the colonel let you live this long.”
Kevin supposed the young guard had a point. In the soldier’s eyes, they were the enemy. A group that had actively fought them and tried to kill and injure his brothers and sisters. “We’re still Americans. We have rights.”
The young soldier burned his cigarette, the end lighting up orange and laughed out a puff of smoke. “Rights? You’ve got to be joking, man.”
Kevin shook his long face. “I’m not. It was written in our Constitution that we have a right to a trial judged by our peers.” A document put together by a group of rebels, vagabonds, and back-country lawyers in the face of an empire’s opposition. The cost was great then. The cost is greater now.
The soldier rolled his eyes. “You’ll get a trial all right. In fact, that’s why Colonel Jackson wanted you alive. So he could administer justice.”
Kevin glanced over at his comrades. A trial by a madman while we pray for justice. The soldiers on the platform were throwing a rope over the beam now. They wrapped it around the beam a few times, letting the knotted end dangle. A soldier tied the other end to the edge of the structure.
If it hadn’t been clear for Tom and O’Hara what was going to happen, then it was now. O’Hara’s body began to shake as he cried into the wet leaf-covered earth. Kevin wanted to comfort him, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. They were on the hook.
***
Hours had passed and the earth had warmed a few degrees, even though the sun was trapped behind the clouds. Kevin didn’t know why Jackson waited. A new guard replaced the old. This soldier had graying temples and a beard. His gaze was much harder than that of the first guard. He held his carbine in his hands as if he expected to use it at any moment.
The primitive gallows, like the ones erected to administer frontier justice, rested before them unoccupied and looming. The wood wasn’t uniform. Instead, it was rough with axe and saw cuts exposing interior trunk. The pieces were lashed and nailed to each other. The rope dangling from the crossbeam wasn’t thick hangman’s rope but some sort of black climbing rope. He guessed the kind of rope didn’t matter. It would do the job as intended one way or another.
Through the trees, Kevin could barely make out people moving along the island shore. Steele must have seen us by now. Kevin knew he was devising a plan. Steele didn’t leave his people high and dry. After a moment, reality kicked him in the gut. What could he possibly do in this situation?
Around noon, the tramp of boots squishing the soft surface came their way. A cadre of military men entered their area led by a short bald man. Jackson.
Jackson’s ACUs were covered in mud up to his knees and his collar was in need of adjusting. He was flanked by a stocky man with a necklace so full of rotting ears it might snap at any moment. On his other side was a fiery red-haired sergeant. Other men lined the back of the group. Kevin’s eyes scanned them briefly and settled on one in back. Mauser.
Mauser’s gray eyes connected with Kevin’s for a moment. Kevin shook his head at the man very slightly. Shame, he wanted to yell at him. How dare you choose them over us? You betrayed us when we needed you the most. Mauser broke eye contact.
“Look at this sorry excuse for an enemy,” Jackson said. His mouth formed a spiteful sneer. “To think that you men, and I hesitate to call you even that, actually thought you could ambush my soldiers.”
The fiery-haired sergeant with a cross on his forearm stepped forward and spit in their direction. The glob splatted into the earth in front of them, breaking apart and disappearing. “Pathetic.”
“You’re correct, Sergeant Yates. This is the lowest scum this earth has to offer. Men that would not only betray their country but stand against those that defend it.”
“You came for us. We had no feud with your men,” Kevin said.
Jackson’s almost nonexistent eyebrows bounced upward. He bent down in front of Kevin.
“But I have a feud with you.” Colonel Jackson stood up. “Stand ’em up. We have a trial today.”<
br />
Kevin found himself being pulled up by Mauser and the sergeant with the ear necklace. It stunk fiercely.
The soldier grunted and pointed to Kevin’s ears. He gave Kevin a crooked smile and a sharp elbow in the ribs.
Kevin’s legs worked begrudgingly beneath him. They felt like tired old things that had corroded from neglect and lack of use, the legs of an ancient tin man left to rust out over time. Mauser and his partner carried him more than his legs did. Kevin watched Mauser from the corner of his eye.
“The only traitor I see here is you,” Kevin spat, quiet enough so Ear Necklace couldn’t hear him.
“Shut up.” His reddish-beard had grown longer since they had last met.
The ground slurped as they trekked over the slick mud leading to the gallows.
“You should be ashamed. Look at the man you follow. He’s insane. He’s a Nero and you are watching Rome burn,” Kevin hissed.
“I said shut up. You did this to yourself. You never should have raised arms against us. Jackson wanted to bring Steele in, not murder everyone.”
“You actually believe that? He’s about to hang us.”
“You dug your own grave when you took up arms against us.”
“You dug your own grave when you joined Jackson.” His mouth clamped shut. How could Mauser be so far off the reservation? He had been a stand-up guy. Now he was a blind man.
They stopped at the rickety gallows. The structure was taller than two-and-a-half men, over fifteen feet high. Three ropes hung off the top beam. Ear Necklace shoved Kevin in the back.
“Easy, Lowry,” Mauser said.
The soldier with the ear necklace clicked his tongue and mouthed “fuck you” to Mauser. Mauser wrapped an arm around Kevin’s and led him to his rope like he was his prom date. Their boots clopped off the wood as they traversed the platform until Mauser stopped him at one of the ropes. He adjusted Kevin’s shoulders manually as he squared him outward.
Steele’s group lined the other side of the swamp. Men in leather gear, Michiganders with rifles, men and women with clubs and guns. He could see the tall pastor clad in all black among them. A bearded man stood at the center of the people. Kevin could tell by his strong stance it was Steele.
Mauser looped the noose around Kevin’s head. The rope scraped Kevin’s face as he forced it down and around his neck, cinching it tight. He dragged the noose around, rubbing it roughly over his skin until the knot was in the back of his neck.
The click of claws sounded above Kevin. He glanced up and backward. Two ravens crowed above him, settled upon the rutty, bark-covered crossbeam. Their feathers shone dark as night and overlapped one another like a jaggedly made metal sculpture. Their heads flittered side to side, and the raven closest to Kevin let out a rolling guttural, “Rock-Rock-Rock.” It’s partner joined in with the same tune. “Rock-Rock-Rock-Rock.” If they could speak, their words would be: “Free food coming up. Come and get it, boys.”
“Ha,” Jackson called up from below. “Look, boys, the birds smell fresh meat.” The hundreds of soldiers surrounding the gallows laughed. Even civilians were intermixed among them. A few hooted cheers of excitement.
“You can do it,” shouted one.
Kevin’s heart pounded in his chest. His mind knew his moments on earth were numbered. His body was preparing to fight or flight. Kevin doubted if he would have the opportunity for either. O’Hara sobbed outright next to Kevin. His body shook uncontrollably, his chin to his chest. Tom stood with his chest puffed out, chin held high.
“What fine craftsmanship,” Jackson said from below. He ran a hand down a still-barked log, testing the sturdiness of the gallows. He moved in front, facing the condemned men from below.
“You three men are being charged with high treason against the United States Armed Forces? How do you plead?”
The ravens cawed in response. Kevin glanced up at the black bird above him. He let his eyes meet the raven’s beady sable eyes. It bounced back and forth, never resting, always taking something new in. In guttural sounds, the raven emitted slow words of death. “Rock. Rock. Rock.” You. Will. Die.
“How do you plead?” Jackson demanded.
“Not guilty,” Kevin yelled out.
Everyone’s eyes were on him, including O’Hara’s and Tom’s.
“Not guilty,” Tom said.
“Not guilty,” O’Hara mumbled. He sniffled, snot dripping from his nose.
Jackson smiled at them. “As I suspected. Unrepentant bastards.” He paced, his feet squelching with every step. “You deny that you placed roadside bombs in an effort to harm, maim, and kill soldiers within my command?”
Kevin peered over the marsh, his eyes begging for rescue. Steele stood at the center of his people. His hand rested on his sidearm, motionless. “I do not deny it.”
“So you admit that you planted the IEDs and waited in the shadows to unleash them on my men?”
Kevin licked his dry lips. “It’s true.”
“Then what possible defense can you make for yourself?” Jackson peered hard at Kevin, eagerly awaiting his answer.
Kevin collected himself and spoke. “You’ve hunted us and persecuted us across hundreds of miles. Innocent families. Little boys and girls. Old men and women. And for what? Because someone slighted you? What we did was in self-defense. We only defended ourselves when we were ruthlessly persecuted by a force of soldiers that should have been shielding us from the dead instead of trying to force us to join them.”
Jackson shook his head. “Tell everyone what happened in Youngstown, Kevin. I remember your gangly ass on the video. I saw what you did to those men. My men,” he screamed.
Kevin audibly inhaled. “I was there at Youngstown. I was an accomplice to murder.”
The group gasped. “Hang him,” came a man’s voice.
“Let ’em do the hangman’s jig,” came another.
Jackson waved his hands at them. “So you admit to killing in cold blood?”
“I do,” Kevin croaked. The crowd murmured to one another. He perused the bog and the people on the other side. “And I’d do it again,” he growled.
The soldiers booed him. A rock sailed past them. Shouts of violence rose up from the angry mob.
“You were supposed to protect us!” Kevin said.
Another rock struck Tom. He cried out, “Shit.”
Kevin stared back out at their angry faces. “You turned your backs on the American public. You’re the ones who should be ashamed. All I did was fight for our people.”
The boos continued. More rocks soared angrily through the air. The ravens above Kevin complained. They flapped their wings rapidly and took flight. They circled the gallows overhead, waiting for their fill.
“By your own admission, you’ve all committed high treason against the United States by taking up arms against her. I sentence all you men here to die by hanging until you are dead, dead, dead.”
Kevin gulped down his fear and stared down at his muddy boots.
“Do you have any last words?” Jackson said. His mouth curved into a nasty smile.
Kevin peered out. “Don’t have any whiskey by any chance, do you?”
Colonel Jackson appeared amused. He blinked rapidly. “Not for the likes of you.”
Kevin nodded. He had never put any faith that his last request would be granted. His voice started subdued but grew with every word. “Then I regret only one thing.”
“What’s that?” Jackson turned an ear toward Kevin.
Kevin made sure to look toward Steele’s camp across the way. Not coming today, are we. It’s been a good run. We didn’t make it all the way, but we gave it a shot. I guess I won’t be recording our history. Maybe you can record mine. Never give up. Never surrender.
Kevin cleared his throat. His mouth was beyond dry and his words came out as more of a caw than a conviction. “That I have but one life to give for my country.”
Jackson’s mouth snarled in anger. “Let ’em rip.”
Kevin
felt a hard boot in his back and he was launched off the platform. His body was light for a moment before the rope held him back from falling. He felt the intense pressure of his entire body suspended from his neck. His windpipe ceased to function as the rope bit into his skin, blocking it from stealing more air. His feet kicked desperately searching for something, anything to relieve his neck from so much pressure. He couldn’t breathe.
The shouts of joy from the people below were almost inaudible over the blood pounding in his skull and eardrums. He felt pressure in his eyes, and they enlarged as his body realized he wasn’t going to take another breath. The rope twisted, spinning his body around. He spun past Tom and O’Hara. O’Hara’s body was limp his tongue dangling out the side of his mouth. Tom fought like a fish out of water, flopping every which way he could. Out of Kevin’s darkening peripheral vision, he could see Tom’s hands free, gripping the tight rope around his throat.
Darkness crept in around Kevin’s eyes as if it hesitated to take him. He was met with the smiling faces of the soldiers. They pointed and laughed as he wet himself. He had never read anything about that and he didn’t care.
He kicked his legs, searching for the ground that he would never find. Searing pain shot through his neck and spine, but it was nothing compared to the panic of not being able to breathe. He tried to gasp for air, but the rope wouldn’t let him. Crushing all resistance, it sealed his throat from the only thing he desired: sweet air.
Kevin’s body twitched and he was gone. His foot moved, his body’s final effort to rescue itself, a distant nerve still struggling to respond that didn’t know it was already dead and gone to the next world. He swung next to the other two men. The rope gently creaked against the rough wooden gallows. The shouts of the soldiers died down, and now, it was the ravens’ turn as they called out from above, finally ready to get their fill.
TESS
Steele’s Island Camp, Mississippi River
The Departing (The End Time Saga Book 4) Page 32