Avalon: Beyond the Retreat (The Avalon Series Book 2)

by L. Michael Rusin

  “I don’t suppose there’s any chance of a reprieve here?”

  “None at all. Anything else?”

  He waited for a moment and then gave the word to his men. Each man led a horse away from under the raider and the bad guys dangled in their death throes.

  Randy shouted orders. “Make a sign that says ‘Thieves and Murderers’ and post it on on the last body.” He turned to the compound leader, “You can take them down and bury them when and if you feel so inclined. Otherwise, let them hang as a reminder to would-be thugs. One of my men will leave you with a radio frequency you can use in the future, should any more assistance be required.”

  With that, the militiamen continued on their patrol.

  “They did what?!” Slasher was livid. He knew a couple of the hanged bandits personally. What he didn’t know was that they had been out freelancing. “What was it they called themselves?”

  The new chief of police, ironically known as Killer, was breathless. “The militia. They have some hefty firepower behind them. Rumor is that they will immediately hang anyone above the age of eighteen if they catch them in the act of stealing, raping or murdering. Any of those and it’s a rope at the nearest tree.”

  “Those farmers are getting serious about stopping any pillaging of the settlers. We’d better be careful what we do. We’re safe in our own town… we’ve managed to stay disassociated. Especially since I know they’re keeping a close eye on us. But out there,” he looking out the window of his office, “out there, we’re on our own. We have to do something drastic… and soon. We’re running low on food, and it’s causing people to leave Wormwood.”

  “Who’s taking care of my chickens and the other animals they gave us at the meeting?”

  “What chickens. What animals?”

  “Those farmers gave me a bunch of chickens, a couple of hogs, a calf and some other animals and a whole pickup full of planting seeds. Where is all that stuff?”

  “The chickens were gone the first night back and the rest of those critters is what we’ve been eating the last few nights. Where did you think we got the food we’ve been eating? Most of us have been eating off of the stores we had gathered with Bone Breaker. That stash is dwindling quickly.”

  Slasher was stunned to hear this. Where were they going to get enough food to survive on? This could quickly become a desperate situation, and he saw his plans unraveling as he spoke.

  “Chief, let’s face it,” Killer was dead serious, “we need to make a raid. There’s a place south of here with a large warehouse. From what I’m told, it holds a ton of food and all kinds of household stuff. We need to hit it hard and fast. Bone Breaker and I talked about it some time back, but we got sidetracked.”

  “Get about twenty of the men together and we’ll move out after dark. I think we can camp a few miles away and take them by surprise first thing in the morning. Once the raid is over, we’ll hot-foot it back here. We don’t know anything about it if anyone comes around asking any questions, you got it? Any traces of evidence will be burned. Is that big truck still running? The one we took at the fish warehouse south of Eureka?”

  “Yeah, it’s in running condition.”

  “Good! We’ll take that and fill it up with food. I want every pickup truck we have to go as well so we can load them all up. We should be able to be back here by noon. That will solve our food problem for a little while. Get everyone ready. Grab a few boys from the outskirts and have them house-sit for us. Tell ‘em to light candles, move around, open and shut doors and windows… anything that will make it look like we’re all still here and it’s business as usual. It’ll be our alibi.”

  The Chief hurried out the door and Slasher found himself thinking about the militiamen those farmers had set loose on his people.

  “So they’re going to hang us, eh?” He said it to no one as he stared out the window. “Well, we gotta do what we gotta do. This ‘going straight’ thing sure does have its problems.”

  “A whole warehouse was hit and ransacked?” Mike was trying to piece the facts together. “Were there any casualties?”

  “Yes, sir,” Ernest Brumley replied. He was the new Intel lead and had come to deliver the news personally to Mike. “There were ten men and two women killed in the raid. It happened earlier today, and they were discovered by one of our people who was going to pick up supplies.”

  “Do we know who it was?”

  “No, sir. Not for certain. But you and I know who did this.”

  Mike snapped at the man. “I don’t want suppositions! I want hard evidence. We can’t be guessing, and we need to know for certain. I’m going there in the morning to see for myself. I want half-dozen men to go with me in case they come back for something they forgot. Ask Beth Kelly to come along as well. We’ll need her experience as an investigator.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Ernest turned and left, jotting down a note as he went.

  It was a big warehouse-type store much like the one in Fitch, but with a different name. This one was once called Red Man. It sold everything including furniture, tools, firearms and, of course, food. Two tractor trailers were still parked in the loading area around the back of the store. Mike found two men who could drive the big rigs and they loaded them up. Mostly with food.

  “We will make as many trips as we can until we empty the store. This stuff isn’t doing anyone any good just sitting here gathering dust. It looks like it’s been ransacked a couple of times, but we can salvage a lot of things in this place to help the people of Avalon and Fitch. We’ll have an armed escort with us after this first trip.”

  Beth looked at the bodies. One of the men had been carrying a white flag. He had been shot at point blank range. She surmised he probably thought they could talk their way out of it, and when he approached the raiders carrying the white flag, he was gunned down. The others with him were murdered as well, some apparently while kneeling.

  Beth continued looking around for anything that the killers may have left behind. There weren’t even any spent cartridges. It was simply murder for the food and supplies they looted from here, and then the place was cleaned, likely to not lead a trail to the thieves. That would also explain why they didn’t steal the tractor trailers in the back… it would be hard to hide something like that.

  Mike came over to Beth. “Anything of significance?”

  “Just this.” She showed him a button from a coat or perhaps a heavy shirt. “One of the victims was clutching it in his hand. It’s fairly unique, and given the ripped thread, I’m guessing it came off of one of the killers. I’ll keep and tag it; maybe it’ll come in handy.”

  “Okay people… let’s roll. Jimmy, Mark, Anthony, and Bill, you stay here. We’ll leave you with enough ammo to fend off an army. We’ll come back tomorrow morning for another load.”

  The two tractor trailers pulled out, accompanied by Mike and the others.

  Slasher listened to his man speak. He had left Billy to stick around in a treeline about a mile out from the warehouse to keep an eye on things. If the coast stayed clear, he was hoping for the opportunity of a second haul. Billy had come back early, however, and was recounting how the Fitch people had come to the big store and hauled a bunch of things away with a couple of the tractor trailers from out back.

  So they can empty out the store, but we can’t. Even the thought of it pissed him off. When we do it, it’s stealing. What is it called when they do the same thing? Hypocrites.

  “I saw them leave a couple of people there to guard the place. Going back wouldn’t be a good idea right now, which is why I figured I should come back and tell you right away. I didn’t want you rolling up on them and getting caught.” He paused and swallowed. “I hope you’re not mad, boss? At me leaving my post, I mean.”

  Slasher simply kept looking at the man, or rather through him, as he considered what his next move should be. Only then did he realize that the last statement was meant for him.

  “Nah, Billy. You did the right th
ing. They’ll be on the lookout and if we had tried for a second run… well, we ain’t ready for that just yet.”

  Billy exhaled a long sigh of relief.

  “We’re going to have to get better organized,” he turned to look at the others. “We have to bring in some people who can grow crops for us. With the militiamen out there patrolling the way they are, and hanging everybody they catch, we’ll have to be a little smarter than we have been.” As Slasher spoke, some of his head people fidgeted. They knew he was right, but they weren’t happy about it.

  “We’re going to have to look squeaky clean from now on. We’ve got enough food to last us for a while and we were able to come up with some trade goods for more food later. The growing season is on us and unfortunately we’re gonna have to grow our own, so let’s get busy.”

  Slasher rubbed the spot on his jacket where his button was missing.

  “And somebody find me a button that matches. This is my favorite jacket, and I can’t walk around looking uncivilized, now can I?”

  They all snickered. “I said move!” He reached toward his waist for his handgun and they all fled, tripping over themselves with a “Yes, boss!” and “We’re on it!” heard from more than one.

  Slasher smiled as he turned back to the window. Things might not be going according to his original plan, but they were going well enough.

  Well enough, indeed.

  Mike and Bob sat at the table in the restaurant at Avalon. They were discussing the militiamen and the results from their patrols. People were settling down once again and their fears were subsiding.

  The unexpected haul from the Red Man store was very productive and was filling a need for several items. Even though the store had been pillaged, those living in it had done a decent job keeping things in check.

  Until the end, that is.

  “We’ll never know, Mike.” The Governor was thinking out loud and Mike agreed.

  Beth rolled the button between her fingers, wondering. Sooner or later, she’d find it’s owner, and their fate was practically sealed.

  To be continued…

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  L. Michael Rusin’s

  anticipated sequel…

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  2015

  1. Traitors

  A CONTINGENT of people from Wormwood came toward Fitch. Mike and the Governor were waiting when they reached the town’s outskirts near the old fairgrounds. Mike started walking forward with the Governor at his side.

  As was agreed to at an earlier time, the two small groups came toward one another slowly and unarmed. When they were face to face, Alvin Cobb, known to his men as Slasher, approached Mike and the Governor with an outstretched hand. They all shook, Alvin smiled, and Mike smiled back, though it was a bit forced.

  Unbeknownst to the Wormwood contingent, they were in the scope of Sergeant Eric Bell and his spotter, Tim. They were on a slight promontory about three hundred yards away. An easy shot for Eric if he needed to take one or more of these outlaws out. It was simply a precaution.

  “What brings you here?” Mike asked the leader of this group. The weather was warm and they were all sweating as the sun beat down on them. Quite a change from the rain storm yesterday, though it was to blame for the humidity. Beads of sweat formed on foreheads and above their lips. An eagle soared above them in search of a meal and the sky was blue, devoid of clouds.

  Alvin responded in a non-threatening tone of voice, “We want to discuss some of the hangings that are occurring.” Knowing he had the support of his followers, he continued. “My people are of the opinion your militiamen are getting a little overzealous with your hangings and it’s resulting in the death of innocent people.” He paused for effect. “That is what brings us here today.”

  Mike eyed the man and after a moment said, “What proof do you have that those in question were innocent?” Mike waited as Alvin motioned for two of the men with him to come forward.

  When they came to the front of the group, Slasher prodded them, “Tell Mister Governor and the Admiral what you told me.”

  One of the men, a young man appearing to be in his early twenties, began to tell a story. He spoke in an arrogant manner, sure that he was immune from any repercussions by saying, “These people hanged Andy Clifton and Joe Marston last week. We found their bodies hanging from a Madrona tree in the gulch by Two Stone Canyon. Me and some of the others cut them down and gave them a proper Christian burial.”

  Mike asked him, “That doesn’t answer my original question. What makes you think they were innocent?”

  The young man snapped back with, “You hanged them without any proof they did any crimes!”

  Mike said, “What proof do you have they were innocent?”

  The young man was visibly agitated and spoke louder, “Whatever you said they did, I’m telling you they didn’t do whatever they were accused of. They were hanged on no evidence!”

  Mike said, “Do you want to be a little more explicit and give us some pertinent details of what, exactly, you’re alleging?”

  The young man became more agitated and said, “I knew them both and they were honest hard working men who had wives. And they were hanged by your vigee-lan-tees. Now they’re dead, and I’m telling you they didn’t do whatever was said they did to get them hanged.”

  Mike answered the man by saying, “You’re still not offering a shred of proof those two were innocent. Let me explain something to you, to all of you. When our Militia catch people in the act of killing, raping, or pillaging innocent travelers, there is, in fact, a trial of sorts. You see, those who perpetrated the crimes and are caught red handed are judged and dealt with on the spot.”

  “The problem is, you see,” Mike’s voice had an edge of sarcasm to it, “is that we don’t have the luxury of maintaining and staffing a prison and jails to put these people in and wait for a tidy trial before we execute them. We do what we have to do to stop the rampaging and suffering by innocent people simply traveling down the roads. We have our roving patrols to assure those innocent travelers can make their way in peace and in safety. So again, I ask of you, let’s hear your proof.”

  “I’ll show you my proof!” and with that statement the youngster reached for a pistol he had hidden, tucked in his pants. As he brought it up into firing position, a hole appeared in his forehead and he crumpled to the ground.

  There wasn’t much left of the back of his head as his body fell to the ground with a thud; a small cloud of dust sprang up from the impact. Those around him were splattered with blood and bone particles. A second later, the explosion was heard off in the distance as it echoed off the surrounding mountains.

  The Wormwood people came to alert and Mike said, “I wouldn’t go for any other hidden weapons if I were you or you’ll wind up dead like your pal here. We have a team in place who will deal with you if anyone tries anything. You see, we are unarmed, as agreed upon, but we suspected you might not keep your word.”

  Slasher, recognizing he was not prepared for this confrontation where he was sure to lose, quickly recovered, “Of course you’re right Admiral! He got what he deserved, didn’t he boys?” He nodded his head to have those around him agree. “We didn’t come here to fight. We came to talk. There was no justification for him to draw on you like that, and I’m sorry that we didn’t search him properly before approaching.”

  Alvin addressed his group, raising both hands in the air to make his point clear, “Look boys, these people have the right to protect themselves. Let’s not have any more attempts at gun play. Besides, I’m sure no one else has a gun, do you?” he looked around.

  “Not us, boss, no sir-ree!” came the reply from a couple as they scanned the hills trying to pinpoint where the shot had come from.

  Alvin “Slasher” Cobb offered a hand to Mike and said, “Please accept my apologies for what happened here. We came in peace and there was no reason for that kid to do what he did. I guess he’ll never do it again will he?” The comment made Alv
in laugh.

  Mike did not.

  “Listen, we simply came to tell our side of it, but apparently that kid lied to us and we bought it. It is our intent to protect those who are innocent. We apologize for his actions and we’ll be on our way now.”

  Mike thought about it as the group turned and headed back down the road to Wormwood “That guy is slick. He is someone we’ll have to watch for and be aware of anytime we have to deal with him. I think there will come a time when I’ll have to kill him.”

  The following day a roving militia patrol came into Fitch. There were twenty eight of them. They had two captives, and three travelers who had decided it was safer to move down the road with armed horsemen as added protection from highwaymen. Everyone was covered in dust, and the horses looked well ridden, with a layer of sweat and mud covering their flanks and necks.

  They rode over to an abandoned warehouse which had been converted into a stable and barracks for the Militia. Several young men came out and led the horses away by their reins, three horses per person.

  “Looks like you rode hard this time,” one of the young men commented.

  “Yep,” the Sergeant replied, “we sure did.”

  “Did you catch any bad guys this time out?”

  “Just those two,” was the casual answer.

  “Junior, make sure they’re all brushed and fed real good, will you?”

  “You got it, Sergeant.” The men walked into the large warehouse entrance and slipped through the door. One by one they all filed in, except the travelers who headed to the fairgrounds to pitch tents for their stay.

  Four of the Militiamen led the two captives over toward the Sheriff’s Office for safe keeping in the jail. They shuffled along after leg chains were secured in place and they were handcuffed. The Sheriff was coming down the street in his Patrol car and he pulled alongside, “What do we have here, Ranger?”