Paths of Righteousness

by Ryan King

  "Only a few more trips like that," said Jack, "and they'll be done for."

  Nathan nodded, thinking the same thing when they heard a louder roar of motorcycles approaching. From the town came a mass of riders. They rode slowly up to the first group and began to talk. There were at least thirty more.

  "If they get off those bikes and rush us, we're done," said Jack.

  Nathan looked around. He saw a Jeep parked at the east edge of their position. "There," he said. "Let's get out of here."

  They grabbed their gear and made the short run to the stalled vehicle. Jack jumped behind the wheel in his usual role, while Nathan and Joshua began to push.

  "Sure hope it has gas," said Joshua.

  Nathan didn't answer, just grunted as he dug his legs in and heaved as hard as he could. The Jeep began to move slowly forward and then pick up speed. The sound of racing motorcycles fell upon them and Nathan looked back to see the group converging on them.

  "Now, Jack!" Nathan screamed.

  Jack dropped the clutch and the Jeep stopped and jumped forward and stopped again before starting with a coughing grind that grew into a steady hum.

  "Get in," Nathan said to Joshua pushing him through the plastic tarp into the rear of the vehicle and handing up their backpacks. He turned and took two more shots at the approaching group as the motorcycles stormed by them. Nathan felt a sharp pain in his right thigh and looked down to see a length of sharpened rebar metal going all the way through his leg.

  "Oh, hell," he said hobbling to the passenger door and climbing in as quickly as he could. "Gogogogo," he told Jack who eased the Jeep forward and then picked up speed. They could see the bikers turning and regrouping a quarter mile in front of them.

  "Go right through them," said Nathan gritting his teeth against pain.

  Jack chuckled as he dropped the transmission into second gear. "Here we go."

  The bikers had turned around and were coming back toward them. They gave no indication of getting out of their way.

  "Don't stop no matter what," said Nathan.

  "I never lost a game a chicken yet," said Jack, shifting to third.

  The distance closed and the bikers began to open up a file in their middle. The Jeep shot between them as the riders hit them with projectiles and clubs. The windshield cracked into a spider web, but held. Nathan felt the tip of a baton strike his earlobe with stinging pain, but nothing more. Joshua began firing from the rear of the Jeep at the men's backs.

  "Let's get the hell out of here," said Nathan the muscles of his leg starting to cramp up.

  Jack smiled in agreement, but looking down at Nathan leg he became somber. "That's going to be a problem."

  Nathan started to answer, but couldn't hear himself over the gunfire behind him and the racing engine.

  Chapter 10 - The Message

  Alexandra was utterly exhausted. She had run cross-country and been on the high school varsity team as a sophomore on N-Day. Now she was out of training and not gotten hardly any sleep in a week.

  She slipped in the snow and caught herself at the last minute from taking a nasty fall. Camp New Harvest, as it was called now, couldn't be more than a mile or so away. Alexandra knew she was taking a terrible chance.

  "What else was I supposed to do?" she heard herself gasp.Shut up, Alex and conserve your oxygen, she told herself.Not much further.

  Alexandra hadn't counted on having to track the men this far. She had thought that New Harvest would be their destination and she would be able to slip away and warn someone, but the patrol had crossed west to east over the entire Land Between the Lakes and continued north. The only conceivable explanation she could think of was that their target was Kentucky Dam.

  Still determined to trail the men, it became harder and harder. She stayed far enough away that they did not detect her, but close enough to know when they moved. While the enemy patrol could take turns sleeping, she needed to stay alert. While they were able to eat and rest by a banked fire, she spent her days and nights cold and hungry. It was taking a toll on her body and mind.

  This morning she awoke with a start to realize that the men were gone. It took her nearly two hours to locate their trail again. She realized she couldn't go on like this much longer and needed to tell someone.

  "Keep going," she heard herself say and wiped the sweat from her face. At the edge of the gravel road, she veered back toward the middle. She knew it would lead to New Harvest, but she couldn't remember exactly how far away the camp was. Alexandra didn't even have the strength to keep her head up, simply oscillating from one side of the road to the other and back again. She would have sworn that she slept while running.

  Barking. She heard barking ahead. The sound was familiar somehow and she found the energy to turn on more speed. Around a corner she saw two small children throwing a stick back and forth while a giant German shepherd dog jumped between them.

  "Get it, Cujo," called a little girl who might have been eight. A boy who was slightly older and must be related to the girl held the stick high in the air.

  Cujo, she thought. The protector of little children.

  The huge dog suddenly froze and placed himself between Alexandra and the children. A low rumble emitted from the barrel chest.

  Alexandra stumbled to a walk and gasped. "Cujo...it's me, boy..."

  The dog's tail wagged hesitantly and approached her. Once he got a good sniff of her he poked his nose all over her, he was used to receiving treats from her hunting trips.

  Alexandra collapsed on the ground and Cujo licked her face. The boy and girl walked over and stared down at her.

  "Water," she said. "Do you have any water?"

  The little girl looked at Alexandra as if she thought her simple. "There's a stream right over there by the trees."

  Struggling to pull out her empty canteen, she handed it to the girl. "Go fill it up...please."

  The girl took the canteen and ran off.

  Alexandra sat there for several minutes resting as she ruffled the dog's head. She felt like crying but choked it down. She looked at the boy. "You're one of the Jefferson boys aren't you?"

  "Yeah," he said shyly. "I'm Reuben and that's my sister Missy."

  The little girl had run back with the water by now and Alexandra eagerly drank it, choking and having to try again slower. When it was empty she handed it back to the girl. "Again, please."

  The girl frowned and walked off less enthusiastically this time.

  "How far are we from New Harvest?" she asked Reuben.

  He shrugged. "It's that way."

  Alexandra sighed. It would be so easy just to lie down and sleep here in the snow.

  Cujo licked her face and she awoke. Missy stood there holding the canteen. Alexandra thought of those men. Walking steadily northward, intent on nothing good. No one could pick their trail back up except her, and the longer she waited the more difficult it would be. Fresh snow was already starting to cover her tracks. She made a decision.

  "I need you two to carry a message for me," she said.

  "What kind of message?" asked Missy.

  "A very important one," Alexandra answered. "I need you to give it to either General Butch Matthews, or Harold Buchanan, or even David Taylor. If you can't find any of them, give the message to your father. Can you do that?"

  Reuben looked unsure but Missy answered. "Sure can. I'm good at games."

  "That's right," Alexandra answered, "this is a game. A very important one. I need you to tell them that there are nine armed men heading north along the edge of Barkley Lake. They're bad men from the south. Can you remember that?"

  "Bad men?" asked Reuben.

  "Nine armed bad men heading north along the edge of Barkley Lake," said Missy in a singsong voice with her eyes closed.

  "That's perfect," said Alexandra wanting to give the little girl a hug. "Now who do you give it to."

  "Paw?" said Reuben.

  "We give the message to General Butch, or Mister Harold, or David," s
he recited.

  Alexandra smiled for the first time in days. "What a wonder you are."

  "That's what Momma says," Missy said with a knowing nod.

  Climbing to her feet slowly, Alexandra took the canteen from Missy. "I got to go for now, but don't forget to deliver the message. Go back as fast as you can."

  "And take Cujo?" asked Reuben.

  "Definitely," said Alexandra. "Always take Cujo."

  The dog barked joyfully at the sound of his name.

  Alexandra started to turn and then had a disturbing thought and looked back at them. "Will they believe you?"

  Both children appeared embarrassed and looked down.

  "Do you tell lies or make up stories?" she asked. "Be honest now."

  "Not as much as Missy does," Reuben answered.

  "It's just pretend," she pouted. "Doesn't do any harm. Don't know why everybody gets so mad."

  Alexandra closed her eyes and rubbed her dirty hand across her throbbing forehead. The movement caused her crossbow to slide down her arm and she almost dropped the weapon. She pulled it back up on her shoulder and then froze. She hesitated for a moment and then unslung the weapon.

  "Here, take this," she said reluctantly to Missy. "I've still got the men's assault rifle. They'll believe you if you give them my crossbow, but nothing else will likely make the same impression."

  "Why does she get to carry it?" protested Reuben. "I'm older."

  "Because she can remember the message," Alexandra said and then had a thought. She unslung her quiver of crossbow bolts and handed these to Reuben. "Here, you can carry these. Once you give the message you can trade if you like."

  Reuben seemed only slightly mollified, but took the quiver anyway.

  Making sure the assault rifle she had taken from the man was loaded, Alexandra moved it to a position across her back where she could get to it if needed.

  "Go on now," she said. "Take the message and I'll give you a treat the next time I see you."

  "Really?" said Missy. "Like candy?"

  "Candy for both of us?" asked Reuben.

  "Sure," answered Alexandra. "Candy for both of you. Lots of candy. Candy enough to make you sick."

  This made them look confused and on the verge of sparking more conversation and questions.

  "Go," she said forcefully. "Go now or no candy."

  "Okay," they said in near unison turning toward New Harvest. Reuben lifted the stick up in the air and began to run and Cujo chased after him jumping up in the air for the prize. Missy ran along more slowly the crossbow cradled in her arms.

  So much rests in their hands,she thought. Looking around, she saw a hollow in the ground. It was probably dry in there. She could fill it with leaves and burrow up and sleep. The insulation would keep her warm and all she wanted was some rest.You've done enough, she thought.

  Alexandra watched the two little children and Cujo until they were out of sight. Then she turned back the way she had come and began to run again.

  Chapter 11 - Paducah Landing

  Major Beau Myers recoiled at the mass of seething humanity that awaited them on the shore. Women and children pressed forward and emitted a steady monotone cry of despair cloaking a tiny kernel of hope. No men or boys over the age of sixteen were anywhere to be seen. Their barge slowly lumbered toward the concrete pillars and the sloped embankment while muscled and tattooed men, some still wearing the remnants of their regimental uniforms, pushed the crowds back. It was night, but everything was brilliantly lit by floodlights. Swirling snow filled the air. Although New Harvest had cut off everyone else's electricity, they had found a way to keep Paducah supplied.

  Beau saw one teenage girl slip under the restraining rope and run forward to leap toward the barge. A large man grabbed her by the arm and swung her back around. Still she fought, frantic and clearly out of her mind with fear. Almost casually, the man holding her gave her a sharp powerful punch to the stomach. She collapsed on the ground, her mouth a wide O of pain, not yet able to cry out. Her eyes stared around her in disbelief.

  "Send her to the end of the line," the man said and two other men came and lifted her up off the ground and took her away.

  "What the hell is going on here, sir?" asked Sergeant Major Givens from his elbow.

  Beau didn't answer for a long time. He stared at faces that displayed emotions of fear, hopelessness, or shock. "It's an evacuation. This is the only way out. Paducah is surrounded and running out of food. They're near panic."

  "And here we come to save the day?" asked Givens.

  "Just maybe," answered Beau peering at a tube pointing out toward the river. Soon he saw two more. "Those are our tanks."

  "Think they'll still run?" asked Givens.

  Beau turned and saw the rest of his men listening to the conversation. "Certainly. The Abrams was designed as one of the most reliable machines ever. We'll clean them up, show them a little love, and they'll be as good as new."

  "You want us to paint 'em?" asked one of his tankers.

  Confused by the question, Beau looked at the man who pointed at the nearest tank. He saw that someone had spray paintedBrothers for Life on the metal side plate. "Yes, cover that up and anything else you see."

  As the barge maneuvered near the landing, the men on the shore stared at them suspiciously. Beau and his men were in uniform and armed, making them an anomaly. The barge crew ignored this tension and went about their jobs, tossing ropes to shore and securing the vessel before dropping several gangplanks and began moving supplies off the boat.

  Beau strode toward the nearest gangplank followed by his men.

  The large man who had punched the woman in the stomach earlier moved to intercept him. He stood directly in Beau's path where the plank met the concrete landing. "What you doing here?" he asked.

  Feeling his men bristle behind him, Beau held up a hand. "I am Major Beau Myers from New Harvest. And who are you?"

  "I'm Jacko," the man said. "Why you here?"

  He pulled an envelope from his jacket. "I am on a mission from General Matthews to see Timothy Walker."

  "Brazen?" Jacko asked.

  "Yes," answered Beau. "I would appreciate it if you could show me to him."

  Jacko hesitated, considered the envelope, though he made no move to take it. "Follow me," he finally said, "just you."

  "Now wait a minute –," began Givens.

  "It's okay," said Beau. "I need you and the men to start getting the tanks ready anyway. Strip them down, clean out the transmissions and fuel systems. Make sure none of our fuel or ammo gets diverted, protect it with your life."

  "Understood, sir," said Givens turning to the men behind him. "You heard him. Start unloading. Each crew go ahead and start working on a tank. I'll come around to check on you."

  Jacko led him around the mass of women and children just beginning to inch forward onto the barge as space materialized. Beau was amazed at how far the line stretched in toward the city center. Few had belongings. All looked tired and hungry. Beau realized he could hear the sounds of gunfire in the distance.

  "You come to help us fight," Jacko asked as they walked.

  "As a matter of fact, yes," said Beau.

  "That's good," Jacko said smiling, "but I wish you had brought more men with you."

  "Well," said Beau picturing Jacko punching the woman in the stomach, "we just happen to be real badasses."

  Jacko laughed. "Let's hope so." He led them to a golf cart covered in snow hidden between two buildings. "Hop in."

  The drive was short. They passed south through Paducah's downtown and into its old manufacturing center. Beau knew from intelligence they had received that Brazen's forces had just lost a very costly battle at the USECO series of bunkers. The entire perimeter was shrinking. Hasty barricades were being erected at nearly every crossroad and they were forced to take a circuitous route before finally stopping in front of a small house with a single light inside.

  "Here?" asked Beau.

  "Yeah," said Jacko
getting out. "Wait here. I'll be back." He walked to the front door and knocked before entering. After a minute he came back out.

  "Doesn't want to see you," Jacko said shrugging.

  Beau was flabbergasted. He had not thought of this possibility. "What do you mean?"

  "What do you mean what do I mean?" asked Jacko. "The man doesn't want to see you and that means you ain't gonna see him."

  "But I'm on a mission from General Matthews," Beau explained. "I'm here to help. There might be a way to save a lot of people."

  "I don't know nothing about that," said Jacko getting back in the golf cart. "I'll take you back."

  "No you won't," Beau stepped out of the cart. He laid his hand on the grip of his assault rifle slung across his chest.

  Jacko stood up slowly out of the other side of the cart and looked at him. "You're making a big mistake."

  "Probably," Beau admitted and pointed the weapon at the big man. He realized that he wanted to shoot him, for punching the girl.

  "Okay," said a voice from the front porch of the house. "Come on in then. Must be something serious."

  Beau didn't dare take his eyes off Jacko, who looked like he was waiting for an opportunity to jump on him.

  "You sure?" asked Jacko.

  "Yeah, I'm sure," said Brazen. "Go ahead and get back in that cart. I'll call you if I need you."

  Jacko moved slowly backward while pointing his finger warningly at Beau.

  "Fuck off," said Beau feeling his finger tighten on the trigger.

  "Now, now," said Brazen. "No need for language like that. Come on inside and state your business so you can be gone."

  Beau finally turned toward the door, but it was closed again. He walked up the stairs and opened the door. He was greeted by a small living room that was tidy and clean. The furniture appeared worn, but comfortable. Numerous pictures of a black boy and girl at various ages hung on the walls. Brazen sat in a chair looking at him.

  Beau was not sure what to expect. Brazen was a small man with intelligent eyes. Unlike his gang members, he sported no tattoos or piercings. As a matter of fact he could have passed for an executive somewhere if he were wearing a suit. This man was nearly legendary not only for what he had done after N-Day, but before it. The prodigy who to MIT only to come home on a vengeance-fueled killing spree and then establish one of the most powerful prison gangs ever.