***
Several days came and went. They continued their march southwest, following the roads that stretched along the coast. Days fell in the same, well–rehearsed routine. Then thick, heavy clouds began to gather, hanging low, and once again, the days went dark. For three days it was like that. It looked like a heavy storm was gathering strength. They searched for a shelter and, on the second day, by luck, they arrived in yet another deserted, half–destroyed, small town by the shore. They decided to sit and wait for the storm to come and pass. They dispersed over in several two and three–story buildings still standing, leaving their horses with a few men in a large, empty warehouse across the street. The houses did not provide much protection; the wind blew through shattered doors and windows, and water dripped through the cracks in the ceilings. But, it was better than having to endure the tempest out in the open. By nightfall it began to pour, hard and steady. The roar of thunder was deafening and bursts of lightning ripped through the sky in erratic intervals. The wind picked up and by midnight it gained the strength of a hurricane, roaring and howling; reminding them of the times they dwelt in the North. They could do nothing but wait for the storm to subside.
The rainfall was heavy, causing flooding; the ocean pounded the shore with ten–foot waves, pushing seawater inland. Soon enough, the streets were submerged in a couple feet of deluge, threatening to wash away or crush their wagons and buggies, and destroy all that was on them. After several hours of rage, the storm stopped as abruptly as it began, wrapping everything in a dead silence. Slowly, the water resided. It was pitch dark and they could only wait until morning to assess the damage.
Next day they found out that their cargo was mainly intact except for a few buggies and wagons with broken wheels and torn canopies, everything covered by a layer of mud and debris. They were able to salvage two out of the three damaged wagons, by combining parts from the third. They divided the cargo between the remaining vehicles and, one day later, when everything was dried out, they went on.
***
After many days of intense marching, their progress was abruptly put to a halt by a bridge, spanning across a fairly wide river, which, since who knew when, had its middle section collapsed. The road was bordering a half dead forest on the north and a flat, empty stony plateau, stretching all the way to the seashore. Luckily, the weather was calm and warm, and they needed to rest. They made a camp between the forest and the road.
In the morning, Presley sent a lookout upstream, to find if there was another crossing. By noon, they returned bringing no good news. They found a bridge, several miles upstream, but it was entirely collapsed and the river was even deeper and faster than here. They had to find a way to cross where they were.
The void between the two sides of the bridge was about twenty feet wide. They had to find a way to somehow construct a temporary ramp, strong enough and wide enough to carry horses and wagons. Otherwise, they had to either make a wide detour until they found another crossing, or decide to leave their buggies and wagons and continue on foot, taking only what they could carry on theirs and horses’ backs.
They stood on the edge of the destroyed section, staring at the rushing water some twenty feet below.
They settled on constructing some kind of scaffolding out of timber. Their lookout party informed them about some sort of a road repair depot they noticed on their way upstream, not far from the bridge.
“Maybe there are some planks and panels we can use.” Said Gunny.
“Take Hiroshi; go over there and investigate.” The two men rode away.
“It will take some time to sort this one out.” Mike said.
“Time is what we have. We’ll get to it. Our people need rest, anyway. Let’s go back to the camp”
Half an hour later, Gunny arrived back to the camp. He was looking for Presley.
“Chief, We have a problem.” Gunny said in a low voice.
“What’s going on?”
“There are some people in that warehouse. They snatched Hiroshi. He went inside and they grabbed him. I was outside, heard him yelling to warn me and I escaped. His horse run away.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s go.”
Presley was thinking to take more men but then he decided against it. He went back to the warehouse accompanied only by Gunny and Mike. When they came closer, they dismounted and left their horses hidden from sight.
“Mike, you stay here for now.”
Presley and Gunny continued on foot. When they were able to see the warehouse, Presley stopped, assessing the terrain around the domed structure that served as storage for the road building and repair materials. The entrance to the depot was a big and square hole, but the sharp contrast between the light and darkness beyond, prevented them to see the interior. They could only see some mounds of gravel and stone inside. The road that led to the entrance widened up to a parking lot. The trees were clear–cut all around, but the terrain was uneven and Presley decided it should be easy to sneak closer unnoticed.
“Alright, Gunny, do you think you could get closer, and find a spot from where you can safely shoot when you get a chance?” asked Presley. Gunny looked around. The edge of the forest was some hundred paces away from the building.
“I think I could.”
“In five minutes I’ll start walking towards them until they take notice. I will try to negotiate with them. You just stay put and wait for my signal.”
***
“Don’t come any closer, I warn you. We’ll shoot,” Presley knew the voice immediately. It was Zack all right.
“Look: there is a large group of us just couple miles south–east, down by that collapsed bridge. We’re heading west, but we’re not able to cross. My friends just wanted to see if there are some lumber inside that warehouse, so we can build a ramp. We mean no harm.”
Presley was covered with an overall and his face was hidden beneath the shield of his hat. Zack could not recognize him even if he came really close.
“Go away!”
“There are almost five hundred of us, down by the river, and half of that number can carry a weapon and have one. Do you really think you have a chance?”
“I have one of your men, and he’s dead if you try anything stupid.” Zack replied.
“Why would you do that? As I said: we mean no trouble. Let’s be reasonable. Let us do what we must and we will go our way. And you can go yours. No one should get hurt.”
“I am the one who makes the rules. You will give us three horses, which I know you have, along with some food and water. And you’ll let us leave. Once we feel safe we’ll let your boy loose. You have a half hour to bring us what I ask or I will start cutting his fingers and toes.”
Presley was silent. He did not want to give an impression of someone who gives up easy. “All right! Give me some time. It will take a while to go back to the camp and bring all you asked for. I need more time, an hour, or so. But, take good care of my friend. You really do not want to harm him.” For a second time this scum manages to catch one of us—this ends today, Presley thought.
“Hurry up! The clock is ticking.
After an hour, Presley was at the tree line with three loaded horses, and five men. “That is our old friend Zack, from Catchinsky’s house. Pity we didn’t kill him then. Take your positions and wait. Gunny is there somewhere. I can’t see where. That man can really vanish. Be careful. I’ll go out to talk some sense into that lunatic… if he really think we’ll let him leave with our horses, he’s stupider than I thought. You have my permission to take him down first chance you got.”
Presley walked out towards the depot, leading three saddled and loaded horses by their reins. He stopped in the middle of the clearance.
“Bring them over,” Zack demanded.
“First you have to show me my man.”
“Sure. You’ll see him when you bring us those mounts. Come on, man—I don’t have all day!”
“A
few weeks ago, we found five bodies on the road. Killed execution style—bullets in the back of their heads. You know anything about it?”
“No, I don’t.”
“I think you do. We have someone in our company who was able to identify those corpses. They told us a story about you trying to lure them into your posse, too. But those kids were a little tougher than you like. They did not want to become your slaves. You have any more children left with you?”
“Why do you care about them, anyhow?”
“You’re right, I don’t. I just need my friend freed. But, I don’t like to see people tortured or killed. So, release them all and you’ll have the horses.” Silence…
“All right!” yelled Zack, a trace of desperation in his voice. “I’ll let go half of them. The rest you can have once we’re at safe distance.”
“Send them over! The smallest ones!”
A teenage girl and four smaller children showed up in the opening. Their skin was bright red. Stupid jerk did not find it necessary to cover them against the Sunburns. The girl stepped toward him, holding two little girls by their hands and two young boys walked in front of them. They looked terrified and all of them were crying.
“It’s over, kids. You’re safe, now,” Presley said gently when they came closer.
“He’s crazy! He killed our friends! He’ll kill us all!”
“Who’s left in there?”
“Three little kids, him, and Alvin and Jake; his two companions… and that prisoner. He wants to take the three smallest ones with them.”
“It’s all right. You’re safe now. Go on down the slope. There are people there. They will take care of you.”
“Thank you.” They went down the hill.
Presley finally spotted Gunny, crouched against the side–wall of the depot, crawling slowly toward the entrance and when he came close, he disappeared behind a pile of huge concrete blocks. Presley started his slow approach to the entrance, pulling the horses behind. Then he noticed Sam hidden on the side opposite to Gunny, getting ready. Sam waved at him and vanished.
“Bring them horses, or I’ll start cutting this man’s fingers!” barked Zack. Presley stood twenty paces away from the entrance.
“This is as far as I go. Send one of your men to take them.”
“All right! He’s coming!”
The man that came was covered in rags, and looked skinny and frightened. He approached with a limp. His boots had no soles. He had a gun in his hand, some old pistol. He was approaching hesitantly, with fear in his eyes.
“Why are you doing this?” asked Presley in a low voice.
“It’s not my doing, man. It’s Zack! He’s crazy!”
“I know Zack,” Presley said and lifted slightly the brim of his hat. The shadow of recognition went across the man’s face.
“You!”
“You listen now, and listen good,” Presley commanded. “When time comes, you’ll do nothing. You understand? Do nothing and you may survive. Go now.”
The man took the reins from Presley’s hand and led the horses toward the entrance. Presley walked back towards the road. Seconds later, he heard horse’s hoofs hitting the gravel. He turned around and saw them mounted, sandwiched between kids, sitting in front and back of each man. The third man was still trying to mount. Hiroshi was on Zack’s horse, sitting in front, with his hands tied on his back. Then two shots echoed through the forest. Gunny and Sam were fast and deadly with their rifles.
“I surrender, I surrender!” the third man pleaded, sliding down from the saddle. Zack and his second companion were lying on the ground; the horses stood a few paces away, the children and Hiroshi still mounted, clutching to the horses’ hair, trying not to fall. Gunny and Sam ran towards them. The third man embraced a little boy with his right hand and held his left hand straight up, yelling his surrender.
Presley stood above wounded Zack.
“You!” said Zack with disbelief and hate in his voice. He was wounded badly and death was coming to him. Presley stood above him and waited. The light in Zack’s eyes slowly faded to a lifeless glare. The children cried from terror and relief. Their people ran uphill from the road. It was over. The last evil men were dead.
“Take this fella to Professor. Interrogate him. If any of these kids say anything bad about him, he will be punished accordingly.”
Two days later they crossed the river. The man they took prisoner from Zack’s camp, turned out not to be so ruthless, but almost a victim himself, a weak man really, unable to confront the villain. They decided he could not be trusted. They let him loose in the next village they came across, with a small supply of food, better clothes and a pair of shoes. The children they saved were exhausted, famished and frightened by the ordeal they had suffered through, but they slowly recovered, and after a short while, began to blend in with the rest of the group; with the kind of resilience only children possessed. Presley hoped they would eventually forget the horrors they had endured.
Chapter XX
Their scouts waited for them on the section of the road that was cut through the hill, just before the panorama that opened towards the lowlands. As soon as they got through the passage, the view broke wide and they saw the outline of a big city that met the vast ocean in the immense harbour.
To their right was the skyline of a big city. At first, they could not see any signs of life. But then, in the depths of the metropolis they spotted some thin strokes of white smoke. There were others here. Were they friendly, survivors like them, or would there be trouble? After some thought, Presley decided it was for the best to send several groups of scouts to check out the area, before they proceeded any further. He wanted to know what to expect from the people who inhabited the city.
He was slightly surprised to see signs of others, but he anticipated they might be forthcoming. He knew that man’s biggest enemy was fear itself. He did not want to intimidate. In fact, seeing several plumes of smoke throughout the city, gave him hope that these people were peaceful and ready to cooperate, or at least to coexist. He followed the progress of their scouts down the highway, walking along the edge of the median, through high, dry grass and bushes, for cover, until they disappeared behind the nearest buildings. He did not expect them back until maybe the day after.
Then they saw a ship. Even half a mile away from the shore it looked enormous. Here and there remains of white paint still hung on the sides of its massive body, but the red and brown color of rust was predominant. What was important was that it stood straight, anchored at the mouth of the harbour. Many smaller ships and boats were scattered all around, some half sunken, or leaning to one side, badly damaged and useless.
The big vessel was loaded with a mountain of white containers. Even from the distance they could make out some Chinese letters—the shipment that never got unloaded and delivered. Presley wondered what was inside the unopened containers.
“Let's go find a boat,” Professor proposed.
“What for?”
“So we can go inspect that big ship.”
“Take it easy, Professor. We need to see about those plumes of smoke first, who those people are, whether they are friendly, or not. In a meantime, we’ll make a camp here and wait for our boys to come back.”
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll be welcoming,” Professor stated with conviction.
“How so?”
“You see how those plumes of smoke are dispersed all over the city. It suggests that whoever they are they live in accord. They are not hiding their presence, so they are not living in fear, and these fires are the products of domestic life, not of destruction. Everything looks so peaceful and quiet.”
“Yeah, that’s what I suppose, too. But, let’s be on the safe side. We have nothing to lose by being cautious, except a day or two.”
“Well; you’re the boss. And I guess you are right.”
An hour before nightfall, to Presley’s surprise, the first group of their scouts came back. They brought a stranger, a man in hi
s forties, tall and thin. He wore no protection from the sun and his skin, the parts that were exposed, had a nice, dark tan. Malcolm brought him straight to the middle of the camp.
“Hello, Chief. Meet Mr. Bradley.”
Presley, Professor Tagore and others stood up to greet the newcomer. They shook hands and Presley offered him a folding chair to sit on. Their numbers pleasantly surprised the man, and he expressed his delight, especially with the large number of children running around, playing.
“Are you from around here, Mr. Bradley?”
“John… please. And no, I’m not. We arrived a month ago from up Northwest. Decided to settle here.”
“And those fires down in the city, are they yours.”
“No, not all. There are some other people, but all friendly. You have no reason to worry. They are all good folks.”
“I am glad to hear that. It just confirms what I suspected all along, and was trying to explain to our Leader, Chief Presley. There are hardly any hostiles left on this land. For, all the reasons for aggression are gone… And how many are there, can you tell, all together, I mean?”
Presley listened to Professor’s soft voice, remembering Zack. Not exactly all the bad people are gone yet, he taught.
“Well, probably a couple hundred, all in all. My group numbers seventeen. There are few other groups, gathered from far and wide, bigger or smaller than ours.”
“Are any of them from around here?”
“No, except a small group of children that somehow survived all this time on their own, scavenging throughout the city. They are with Mr. Miller’s crowd now, the first one that arrived here, three months ago.”
“So, how do you survive here? Is there enough food for all? Would there be room for more?”
“I suppose so. Why not? We share everything and help each other. The city is huge, and empty. I see you have horses. We have them to, and some cattle, pigs, sheep, chicken… We have no shortage of eggs and milk… And now that the Sun is shining and the grass is green again, we started gardening; hopefully in a few weeks we’ll have some fresh vegetables, to diversify our diet…”
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