After taking a moment to enjoy her small victory over the moose, she poked her head above the log again.
The moose was long gone. In its place was a man. The gunfire must have attracted his attention. He was fair-skinned, short, and portly with a closely shaved head, and he wore a moss green vest over a dark shirt and jeans. His potbelly and stout figure reminded her of the dwarf on the cover of one of Nathan’s fantasy novels — though he lacked the beard, of course.
He also had a pistol at his hip, which concerned her — hunters used rifles, not pistols, as the longer barrel of a rifle offered increased accuracy at range. Emiko ducked behind the cover of her log. Had he seen her? It occurred to her that maybe he was looking for Beard.
“Hey, Jeremiah, you reckon where that shot came from?” the man said.
“Nope,” another voice responded.
Emiko gulped — the man wasn’t alone. Curiosity got the best of her and she took another glimpse over the log. The other man was wading through the shallow stream. He had dark skin and a slender build, also clad in a vest, shirt, and jeans. He cradled a shotgun in his arms.
“Why we comin’ this far south, anyway?” asked the dark-skinned man — Jeremiah.
“’Cause we ain’t got nothing else to do,” replied the heftier man. “Who knows? Maybe we can snatch a few more chickens tonight.”
“If you say so,” Jeremiah said with a shrug. “Where’d Dwayne go?”
“Hell if I know,” said the portly man.
Yes, where did Dwayne go? Emiko wondered. She had three armed men closing in on her position. And … her rifle! Swiftly, she reached one arm above the log and pulled it back toward her. It thudded softly against the log.
“Barry, you hear that?” Jeremiah asked.
His partner — Barry — smirked.
“I sure did,” he said. Then his mischievous eyes fell on Emiko.
Moose pie! Emiko dove behind the cover of the log.
“Hey little girlie, we won’t hurt you,” Barry called out to her.
They think I’m a dumb little girl? I’ll show them! she thought. What were her options? She wasn’t going to just give herself up — the men looked about as trustworthy as a pair of hungry wolves. That left her with two choices: run or fight. No reason to hide, she thought — they knew where she was. She stood up from behind the log.
“Hey there darling, what’s your name?” Barry asked, as he stepped through the brush, inching closer.
“Who’s asking?”
“A friend.”
“A friend?”
“That’s right, honey,” Barry said. “Your dad sent us to out to look for you. He’s really worried.”
Emiko just glared at him.
“Aw, what’s that look for?” he said, trying to sound hurt. He and Jeremiah continued to approach, now about twenty feet away.
“Sorry, my dad’s dead,” Emiko said. “And I don’t think he was friends with any losers like you.”
Barry growled.
“Hear that, Jeremiah?” he said. “This one’s a real live wire.”
“I heard it alright,” Jeremiah said.
The men were close and inching closer. If Emiko didn’t act soon, she’d be at their mercy.
“One more step and you’re dead,” she said, shouldering her rifle and aiming at Barry. Would they buy her bluff? She choked down her unease. She’d seen thousands of dead and dying in her lifetime, but she’d never had reason to point her gun at a human before.
“Hey now, we don’t want any trouble,” Barry said, raising his hands in the air.
“Then you’ll turn around and walk away,” she said.
“Okay, darling, easy now,” Barry said. He and Jeremiah slowly turned around, then gingerly began to creep off in the opposite direction.
Emiko grinned — she was in control now.
“And don’t forget to say ‘Hi’ to the other dwarves for me,” she said.
“Why you little,” Barry growled, as he spun around and started toward her. “A twerp like you ain’t gonna shoot me.”
Bear scat! Emiko’s heart throbbed. She gripped her Ruger tightly as Barry continued toward her. He was still holding his gun up in the air. She didn’t know what he’d do to her and she wasn’t eager to find out.
She closed her eyes and pulled the trigger. The shot rang out like a firecracker.
“Cocksucker!” Barry wailed.
Emiko opened her eyes. Barry was writhing on the ground in pain, holding his leg. Jeremiah had turned around and was aiming his gun at her. Panicking, she ducked behind the cover of the log. She had to figure out how to disable Jeremiah, quickly! She’d shot one man. Surely she could shoot another …
Then she heard a twig snap behind her. As she turned to look, something heavy slammed into her skull and she fell to the ground, unconscious.
Chapter 6
“This is the General.”
“Private Brushnell reporting, sir.”
“Calling in early today, I see.”
“I have a situation here, sir.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Our other three men, stationed here at Sawbill Lake — today they brought in a young girl. There’s talk of holding her hostage for a small ransom.”
“You didn’t feel the need to report to me immediately when Osborne collapsed — why now, soldier?”
He has a point, the private admitted to himself. He was anxious because he knew the victim, but he shouldn’t have let that affect his judgment.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“No need to apologize, son. I’m glad you called in — we can use this situation to our advantage.”
“We can, sir?”
“Yes. You see, as much as Osborne appears to enjoy aimless drifting, I know what he loves even more.”
“What’s that, sir?”
“The impossible.”
The private paused for a moment.
“What are you suggesting, sir?”
“Keep the girl hostage, but don’t ask for an easily payable ransom — request an exorbitant, impossible sum. It will get Osborne’s attention and he’ll come up your way — I guarantee it.”
“And then?”
“I have some information for you to communicate to him. I need you to pass it on, while keeping my name out of it. I’ll get it to you as soon as I can confirm a few details.”
“Understood, sir. What action should we take until then?”
“Just sit tight. Osborne is as tough as they come — he’ll be on his feet again soon. Prepare an anonymous ransom note and deliver it in a day or two. I trust you to take care of the details, Private. My records say you’re from that area. Use that knowledge to your advantage.”
“Yes, sir.”
“The General, over and out.”
With a sigh, the private relaxed his grip on the handheld radio, letting it hit the table. When he’d discovered that Barry, Jeremiah, and Dwayne had been plundering minor things from Frontier View, he didn’t raise a fuss, but this was different. Not that he had ever been particularly close to Emiko … something just felt wrong. Weren’t they supposed to be dispensing law and order across the land?
I should trust the General, he thought. If this is what it took to bring civilization back to the world, then he’d accept it as a necessary evil. In the meantime, a part of him hoped Barry would succumb to a bacterial infection. The General’s army had no need for redneck scum.
Chapter 7
I’m all alone now, Nathan thought.
Emiko had been gone for nearly three full days. She’d disappeared before he woke up, three mornings ago. When she didn’t return that night, he’d felt angry. When she didn’t come home the next night, he’d grown worried. Then, this morning, he’d set out alone, heading into the woods to look for her. Afternoon and evening passed without him finding a trace of his sister, and now he was still foolishly searching deep into the night.
The moon was almost full, but the dense foliage above captured
most of its light, leaving hardly any for Nathan. His eyelids felt like bags of sand, hanging over his eyes as he struggled to remain vigilant.
“Emiko!” he cried out. His voice echoed through the forest, fading as it reverberated around him. An owl, perched somewhere in the darkness above, hooted in reply before silently flying into the night. Nathan stopped and listened carefully to the forest. The only sound he heard was his own heartbeat, pounding in his ears. It felt like he was passing through a jungle on the dark side of the moon — a silent wonderland.
“Emiko!” he yelled again, his voice growing more desperate. This time, not even the owl answered. Dead silence.
A cool wind began whistling between the branches of the trees. This far north, even the late summer nights could be brisk. Nathan crossed his arms, pulling them in toward his chest for warmth as he continued his search.
Shortly he came to a clearing in the tree cover. He took advantage of the opportunity to examine the cloudless night sky, picking out the constellations among the twinkling stars. Each one had a story to go with it, and Nathan recollected the stories his father had shared as they gazed at the stars together. From the labors of Hercules to the travails of Perseus and Andromeda, the myths and legends flowed through his mind. Individually, each star was just a tiny point in the sky, but working together, they composed the original storybook — a record of history, dating back to the dawn of time.
Maybe Emiko is looking up at the stars, too, he thought. If only she could give him a sign … a signal that she was near.
A shooting star whizzed across the skyline, leaving a long, hazy trail in its wake before fading completely. Nathan shook his head. The stars were beautiful, but they couldn’t help him. He raised his hands to his mouth.
“Emiko!” he called out. It’s no use, he thought. His sister wasn’t out here, and even if she were, he wouldn’t find her searching alone by moonlight.
What did I do to deserve this? he wondered, sighing deeply, as he fell to his knees in exhaustion. He closed his eyes and knelt in silence, drifting in the space between sleep and meditation. His mind went blank and time slipped away.
Emiko, where are you? he silently pleaded. I can’t do this without you. If only he had respected her more — known how to deal with her, like his father would have …
Nathan slowly opened his eyes. The sky was brightening and the stars had already begun to fade. Had he really searched all through the night? Gathering his strength, he found the will to pick himself up off the ground and began the trek home, carefully avoiding the branches and rocks underfoot as they scraped at his heavy boots.
Frontier View would send out a search party soon, but he knew it would be in vain. He was alone now. The Desolation had claimed his mom, his dad had succumbed to cancer, and now he’d lost his sister. Who would leave next? Best not to think about it, he thought. Mindlessly, he continued putting one foot in front of the other. Frontier View was just around the bend.
A few minutes later, he could see the cabins. Keeping his head low, he trudged toward home. The crest of the sun was just visible above the trees as he reached his door.
As Nathan entered, he eyed a folded sheet of paper, unexpectedly lying in the middle of the cabin’s main room among the other clutter. It looks like a herd of cattle stampeded through here, he thought, making a hazy mental note to tidy up in the morning. After veering left into the bedroom, he collapsed forward onto his bed, still clothed. His head hit the pillow and his body refused to move another inch.
What now? He didn’t know what he could do anymore …
“I can’t do this alone,” he mumbled to no one in particular, before falling into a long, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 8
“Hold your horses! Don’t you at least want your clothes back?”
John stormed out the door, ignoring Cynthia as she called after him. A light breeze passed through his loose fitting gown and tickled his underside.
The last time he’d woken up in an unfamiliar bed, he’d found himself alone in an abandoned underground military hospital. He’d surfaced, only to discover a godforsaken version of the world he’d remembered. This, however, was something entirely different. He reached for his gun, but his hand found only white linen. Of course — they would have removed his gun belt when they took off the rest of his clothes.
“What the hell is this place?” he asked, turning back to Cynthia. “A set for Little Town in the Big Woods?”
“How about you come back inside and get yourself decent — I’ll explain everything,” she said.
Well, she does have my gun and my pack, John realized. That left him no choice.
“Fine,” he said, begrudgingly allowing Cynthia to usher him back inside.
***
“This is the best soup I’ve had in ages,” John said. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d tasted anything so thick and velvety. As he ate, his memories gradually came back to him, from the voracious hunger to his encounter with the frankenmoose. After he finished the bowl of soup, he set it down on the table and turned back to his hostess.
“So, who found me?” he asked.
“A neighbor of mine — a girl named Emiko,” Cynthia said.
“Emiko?”
“It’s Japanese. Her father was second generation Japanese-American, I think,” Cynthia said as she sat back in her chair. “Emiko told us about you, and so we sent a little rescue party to help.”
As he listened to Cynthia explain everything, John finally began to feel at ease. Fortunately, he hadn’t woken up in a hospital — he hated everything about them, from the stark white walls to the pervasive smell of death that lingered in every nook and cranny. The cozy cabin made him feel much more at home. As for the village outside … well, it wasn’t the first one of its kind that he’d seen, but it was certainly the most rustic. Every home built in log cabin style? Even considering the state of the world, the village was an anachronism.
“Get many visitors up here?” he asked.
“Occasionally we get traders in from Duluth, but no, other than that not many people make it up this way,” Cynthia said. “This area used to be a government protected wilderness — as far as I know, there isn’t another village north of here until you get into Canada.”
“Wish I had known that before I crossed the border,” he said.
“You know, there’s this thing called a map,” she said with a tiny smirk. “What led you down here, anyway?”
John shrugged.
“A drifter, huh? Where from?” she asked.
It seemed the farther west he came, the more ridiculous people found his answer to be. Still, he had no reason to hide the truth.
“I’m from Maine,” he said.
“Maine?” she asked. She sounded only slightly surprised. “That’s a pretty long hike, isn’t it?”
“You bet,” he said with a nod. It had taken him nearly two years to get this far, though for someone walking directly and purposefully, it wouldn’t have taken more than a few months.
“By the way, I have a personal question, if you don’t mind …” Cynthia trailed off, waiting for his assent.
“Go ahead,” he said, reluctantly. He didn’t much like talking about himself.
“How did you get the scar around your left shoulder?” she asked.
John scowled — he’d forgotten that Cynthia had changed his clothes and undoubtedly had seen his replacement arm. Outwardly, it could have passed for the original, if it weren’t for the thick ring of pink scar tissue that circled around his shoulder.
“You don’t wanna know,” he muttered.
“A real man of mystery,” Cynthia replied with an easy smile. “So, what’s your plan now?”
“Keep walking, I suppose,” he said.
“Where to?” she asked.
“South, I guess,” he said with a shrug.
“Well, don’t rush yourself out the door — stick around for a while, until you’re at one hundred percent. I’m still not sure
why you fainted,” she said.
John mulled the offer over. She had a point — why he had collapsed was unclear, and he wasn’t on a deadline to arrive at any particular place. Maybe it would be best if he stayed put for a bit …
“I’ll consider it,” John replied. “In the meantime, I’m gonna get some fresh air,” he said, pointing to the door with a grin. “Now that I’m fully clothed and all.” Just to be sure, he felt at his holster — the Colt was there. He picked it up in his hand and swung open the cylinder. It was loaded with six shells. He pointed the muzzle toward the ceiling, letting one shell slide into his lap as he held the other five in, shutting the cylinder afterward. He pocketed the sixth bullet.
“Who gave me the ammo?” he asked.
“Oh, just a gift from the people here,” Cynthia answered. “We have plenty in storage. Just ask if you need more.”
“Thanks. I appreciate it,” John said, as he stood up and headed for the door.
***
Once again, John stepped outside, this time examining the little hamlet more closely. It looked like men with axes had come through and cut a giant, rectangular swath out of the forest, creating space for the cabins. The entrance to Cynthia’s home faced southward; from what he could tell, all of the cabins faced each other in two rows running east-west. On either end of the rows he could see where the forest began again, separating civilization and the wild. The long, wide area between the homes served as a main street, covered in a mixture of grass, weeds, and dirt. It was much like he imagined a town from the Old West would look, with lush green trees and heavily insulated log cabins substituting for the arid desert and thinly constructed buildings.
John could see a few children, shouting and kicking up dust with their heels as they played a game — baseball, perhaps? One kid was throwing a small ball; another swung at it with a crude bat. John looked on as the pitcher, a boy about ten, wound up and hurled the ball toward the hitter. The hitter’s stick connected with the ball, driving it into the air. John lost track of it in the sun’s glare, then heard it hit the ground somewhere behind him. He turned around to find it.
The Northland Chronicles: A Stranger North Page 4