Wolfe reached out and scratched the big dog behind the ears. “I didn’t do much toward getting us something to eat, fella, but this is good stuff. Too good to pass up.
“I tell you what. We saw a lot of birds out there. Why don’t I take the blowgun and knock us down a few.”
Buddy wagged his tail and inched a little closer to Wolfe.
Wolfe filled his quiver and carefully put the rest of the arrows into his backpack. He did not want to damage the fletching on those arrows.
“Ready?” he said when he was done.
Buddy wagged some more.
Wolfe set the bow aside and collected his blowgun and darts, then headed outside and toward the river in his quest for a snack.
Chapter Fifty-Three
“Nine should be enough,” Wolfe said while Buddy sat eagerly eyeing the pile of songbirds Wolfe had collected.
Wolfe took the birds upriver, mindful of the communal laws in Canon, until he was well away from the town.
He gathered some driftwood and used a magnifying glass to start a fire, preferring the glass to using any of the now precious gas in one of his butane lighters.
While the fire was burning itself down to coals, Wolfe cleaned the birds. He tossed the feathers onto the river. They floated with the current. He was amused to recall how diligently the men in Canon were throwing their cast nets – and producing nothing – while here a number of small trout rose to nibble at the discarded feathers.
Finally he found some longer sticks and used those to dangle the bird carcasses over the coals of his fire.
As soon as the birds were cooked – he could eat raw meat if he had to but certainly had no desire to do so – Wolfe tossed three of the birds to Buddy while he ate three himself.
“Share and share alike,” he mumbled around a mouthful of stringy flesh.
When he and the dog had both consumed their share, Wolfe packed the remaining three birds into the bag where he carried his darts. He was fairly sure Jennifer would not be getting enough food here. These birds should help at least a little.
Wolfe sat for a while staring at the rushing, swirling river then he stood and brushed himself off.
It was time to go back to town and soon to move on south. Jennifer could decide for herself if she wanted to stay here where there were other young people or walk on with him.
He glanced down at Buddy as it occurred to him that Jennifer might want to keep the dog with her. She had become extremely fond of Buddy. It surprised him that he felt a pang of loss when he thought the dog might stay with the girl. It seemed he was more attached to Buddy than he had realized.
Even so, that would be Jennifer’s call. The child had lost enough and more than enough when she lost her parents and her home and virtually all her worldly possessions. Wolfe did not want to take Buddy away from her too.
“We’ll just have to see, won’t we,” he said aloud. Buddy’s ears pricked up at the sound. Wolfe bent down while walking and ruffled the dog’s head and ears.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Wolfe waited in their cell but Jennifer did not show up. Eventually the old warden came by and said, “Supper time, mister. You don’t want to miss that.”
“No, I certainly don’t. Thanks for reminding me.”
“You’re welcome.” He laughed. “It’s all part of my official duties.”
The warden walked on – to perform more of his official duties, Wolfe supposed – while Wolfe stood and stretched. He stashed Jennifer’s three roasted birds beneath the pillow on her bunk, patted his thigh as a signal to Buddy to follow and headed for the chow hall.
Jennifer was already there. She smiled when she saw Wolfe. And Buddy.
“What have you been up to?” Wolfe asked while Jennifer was busy petting Buddy.
“I’ve been having fun. This afternoon I took a class in finding edible plants. And a lady in the garment factory started teaching me how to sew. And I made three new friends. Mr. Wolfe, I would like you to meet Tanya and Roberta and Billie.”
The girls were all about Jennifer’s age. They seemed polite and pleasant, good company for the child.
“You like it here, do you?” he said.
Jennifer nodded vigorously. “I do. A lot.”
“That’s great,” he said. He meant it. It would be good if Jennifer could grow up in a happy environment.
Wolfe went to the serving line to collect his supper, which turned out to be a soup of some sort of broth – perhaps it was better not to know the origin – with a handful of bitter greens floating in it.
The taste was not much, but it was hot and filled the void in his belly.
Wolfe was almost done with his meal when a stocky man with streaks of gray beginning to show in his beard approached.
“Pardon me, mister, but I have to take the dog now.”
Wolfe carefully placed his spoon in his soup bowl then turned to face the man. “Why would you do a thing like that?”
“It’s the rules, mister. We don’t have food enough for ourselves. We sure can’t afford to waste any of it on pets. The dog has to go.”
“And by ‘go’ you mean exactly what?” Wolfe asked, his tone of voice deceptively mild.
“The animal is meat, mister. He’ll go into the pot and help us all. Good thing too. He looks like he has a good bit of meat on those bones.”
The man reached for Buddy’s collar.
Chapter Fifty-Five
Two burly men stepped up behind Wolfe and quietly took him by the arms while the first man reached down and gripped Buddy by the scruff of his neck.
Wolfe and the dog reacted at virtually the same moment. And with the same object in mind.
Wolfe jerked forward, throwing the man holding his right arm across the dining table, through a young couple’s meal and into their laps while the man on his left was flung off his feet and several yards out onto the floor where he hit with a thud and a shout of surprise.
Buddy, meanwhile, had turned in the stocky man’s grip and had his teeth sunk into the fellow’s wrist.
Wolfe lashed out with the edge of his hand, chopping down hard on the man’s forearm. He heard the dull snap of a bone breaking, and the man screamed, his voice high pitched and shrill.
“Dog!” Wolfe barked and patted his thigh to signal Buddy to him.
The big dog released his victim, blood streaming down his hand and dripping onto the floor. He came to Wolfe’s side and obediently sat although he was quivering with the desire to strike out again.
“Anyone touches my dog will get the same,” Wolfe warned.
Without a backward glance, he and the dog stalked out of the mess hall and back to their quarters in the old prison.
His backpack was still packed and ready. All he had to do was pick it up and strap it on. Wolfe was just reaching for it when Jennifer came running in, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“They were going to eat Buddy.”
“Yes,” Wolfe said, “they were.”
“That’s awful, Mr. Wolfe.”
Wolfe smiled and patted the girl’s shoulder. “To you and me it is though I can understand their point of view. Anyway, that’s behind us now. Buddy and me are leaving.”
“Now?”
He nodded. “Right now, kiddo. There’s no point in waiting, and the quicker I get out of here the better.”
“I’m coming with you, Mr. Wolfe.”
“I thought you liked it here,” he said.
“Not now I don’t. Not when they eat dogs here. I’m coming with you.” She picked up her much smaller backpack and slung it on. “Please?”
The three of them walked out, past the self-appointed warden and a delegation of local men who were coming after either Wolfe or Buddy – he did not bother to ask them what they wanted, just brushed past them.
They crossed a bridge over the Arkansas and headed into the night. Water was life and the Arkansas was flowing with all they needed. “Follow 50 and follow the river. Every step is one step closer to ho
me,” Wolfe said as much to himself as to the girl walking with him, her hand knotted up in the heavy fur of the big dog.
Chapter Fifty-Six
“I’m glad to be free of those people, Mister Wolfe.”
“Forty thousand in one town? They are too big to survive,” Wolfe pondered. “If they have to eat dogs, then they’re too far gone to make peace with.”
Wolfe was thinking about everything he had heard when he was there. Control. Common good. Living in a jail. People coming and going like birds at a feeder.
When people wanted to stay, that is the group that would be able to look after Jennifer. But if she stayed behind, Buddy would probably stay with her. He liked that dog even if the beast never told him someone was sneaking up on them while they were sleeping. He wondered what a good night’s sleep looked like. Then again, there was no need to waste time thinking about that kind of stuff. It didn’t help anyone.
Jennifer hummed as she walked, a tune that children devised when they were happy. On occasion, she would skip. The dog walked beside her, the two growing inseparable. Was he ready to raise a twelve-year old?
All because he did not want to leave the dog behind?
The road wound along the river or maybe it was the river that followed the road. They passed people, but did not stop to talk. Wolfe always nodded politely. They were more wary of him, traveling armed with a rifle and a bow, but the young girl put them more at ease.
Would FEDCOM see him as James Wolfe, the outlaw and his killer dog or would they look right past a man with brown hair traveling with a young girl who kept a dog as a pet? He had two sets of hair dye left. Would that be enough to keep his hair the color that would get him past the Clear Areas?
The next couple they happened across, Wolfe stopped and waved. They had a shanty down by the water that they were fishing from. A small tendril of smoke told of a fire probably used for cooking. It didn’t seem to throw off much heat outside of the burning tinder.
“Can you tell us how far to the Clear Area?”
An old man waved indiscriminately. An old woman, maybe his wife, punched him in the arm and that started an argument. His cane pole bent with a bite and that instantly turned the pair from brawlers to lovers. They focused completely on bringing the fish to shore. The old woman waded into the water where she could use a pair of sticks like a scoop. The old man brought the fish close enough. The woman drove the sticks into the water and with a quick flick of the wrist, the fish was flying toward the shore where the old man pounced like a cat, landing on all fours to keep their prize from escaping. He brained the fish on a rock.
The two cheered like kids at a football game.
Wolfe and Jennifer waited to get their attention again. Wolfe cleared his throat so the old couple would remember they had guests.
“Who are you?” the man shouted in surprise.
“James Wolfe, sir, at your service. I asked how far the Clear Area is and if you could point us in that direction, please.”
The man looked back to his fish, produced a disgraceful looking knife, and started to clean his catch. The woman wiped her hands on her apron, looking fresh from a farmhouse instead of a shack along a river with nothing to her name.
She pointed in the direction they were heading. “Two days’ walk. You can’t miss it.”
“Much obliged, ma’am. Enjoy your lunch.” Wolfe beat feet out of there. Jennifer ran-walked to keep up. The big dog trotted happily. The sun was up and warming the air but it was still cool, perfect for covering ground. He figured the old woman’s two days was a day at his pace.
Jennifer didn’t complain, but when he looked back, he found she was breathing hard and her face red from her efforts. He slowed. If it took two days, it took two days. He had a long way to go, but was finally making progress.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Wolfe heard something. He was in the middle of another short bout of sleep when the sound penetrated his sleep. The big dog growled louder and louder. With Jennifer, Wolfe was sleeping at night without his goggles. It was more comfortable that way. On the other side of the dog, the girl was fast asleep.
He followed the dog’s eyes to see what was upsetting the big animal, expecting to see men with guns pointed at him, but they weren’t there. He could see perfectly fine in the dark and did not see anything at all, but he trusted Buddy. He growled for a reason, even if that reason was that men were already there and pointing guns.
Wolfe rose and looked around. He pulled the AR15 from beneath his sleeping bag and pointed the business end where the dog was looking. “Stay,” he whispered pointing at Jennifer. The dog cocked its head. “Just stay there and protect her. I’ll be right back.”
He didn’t know if the dog would get it or not, but the animal was plenty smart, plus he was more attached to her than Wolfe. He trusted that and turned his attention back to the brush beyond their rough campsite.
He took two more steps before the outline of a massive beast of a mountain lion materialized beyond the first bush. Wolfe stopped and took aim.
“I can see you, unlike most of your prey, I suspect. It’d be best for both of us if you turned tail and headed for the hills. There’s nothing for you down here.” Wolfe kicked sideways at the coals of the fire hoping to spark something to life, bring fear to a creature that generally knew none.
The mountain lion froze in its tracks. A good two hundred pounds or more. It was king of the Red Zone jungle, or Wolfe didn’t know his kings.
“That’s a good boy. Go on.” The big cat stopped listening and crouched, its back legs dancing as it prepared to attack.
Wolfe didn’t want to kill something if he wasn’t going to eat it. He launched himself like a missile at the cat, catching it right as it jumped. He powered an uppercut into its chin sending the cat high into the air. It landed to the side of the fire. Wolfe jumped over it to get between it and Jennifer, but the big cat had had enough. It bounded away as fast as its legs could carry it.
Buddy finally stopped growling. He had not left the youngster’s side. Now with the threat gone, he laid back down and closed his eyes. Jennifer never awoke.
When they got up the next morning, Wolfe slid his goggles into place. He didn’t bother telling her about the mountain lion. He didn’t want her to lose sleep over it. She probably wouldn’t because they walked so far during the day that she would be tired. Hell. He was tired and she was taking twice as many steps as he was.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
The old woman had been right. Two days passed as two days would. After a great deal of walking, they spotted the checkpoint up ahead. Wolfe’s first instinct was to dive off the road and circle around it, but with his brown hair and the young girl, he didn’t look like the man on the wanted posters. If they waited until nightfall, then he could hide the welding goggles, too, squinting his way past the checkpoint lights before they crossed.
Except he wouldn’t be able to explain the rifle. He’d exchanged the M16 for an AR15 back outside Canon City. Still, he was worried about going through the checkpoint with it and half a satchel of ammunition. He expected they would confiscate most if not all of it.
Confiscate. A gentleman’s word for steal.
Wolfe wanted to trust people. It was in his nature to be gracious and that had gotten him into too much trouble in this new world. Trying to help when it would have been best to go the other way. His life would have been much easier if he had.
Even with the radiation from the nuclear bombs, mirrors still existed. When he looked into them, he had to be comfortable with the man who looked back. They’d wait and go through the checkpoint. He’d try to keep all of his stuff with him, but if they took it, he would make do. He had before and he would again.
If they messed with Jennifer or the dog, then there would be a fight.
He hoped they wouldn’t. He wanted to believe in a world where one man trusted another.
“We’ll rest here and go through the checkpoint after dark.”
“As you wish, Mister Wolfe. Do you want me to cook our dinner?”
“Sure, Miss Jennifer. I think I heard a couple rabbits scruffling around on the ground not far from here. You and Buddy get the fire ready. We’ll start it when I get back.”
Jennifer held onto the scruff of Buddy’s neck and nodded.
Wolfe left all his worldly possessions on the ground by her and walked away carrying just his bow and some of the new arrows from Canon City. He had a few of the original broadheads left and those were gold in case he needed to use them against something special.
Say a mountain lion, for example.
Wolfe stalked his prey and found them easily enough. Not rabbits but prairie dogs. They’d probably be a bit tough, but something was better than nothing. He took careful aim, pulled, and released, sending the new arrow true to its target. He quickly nocked a second arrow, counting on his unnatural speed to help him take two shots where a normal man would only get one.
The second arrow pinned the prairie dog into the mouth of the hole, head half underground. Wolfe smiled at the skill of the second shot. He remembered when he first acquired the bow. It was not that long ago. Practice and need had driven him to learn it and do better.
He looped his bow over his head and through one arm so he could pull out his knife. With the first cut, a terrible cry shook the ground.
Wolfe looked up in time to see the mountain lion leaping. He drove the knife upward with his inhuman strength, through the cat’s breastbone and through its heart. The two-hundred pounder hit him head high. He fell over backwards, hitting the ground with a thump. He threw the great cat from him and jumped to his feet, ready to keep fighting, but it was dead.
“You’ll make a nice jacket,” he told the cat. “But not a good dinner.”
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