by Anna Oney
The soldiers had reached the gate. The smoke billowed through the crack, enveloping their forms. Turning her focus from her neighbors’ cries, she crept toward the bodies lying face down before the dance hall’s entrance. Dragonflies hovered over their lifeless forms. A vision of Amos waving a clenched fist at her, shouting, “I got one!” clouded Fawn’s thoughts, glistening her eyes with fresh tears that made streaks through the soot staining her cheeks. The hum of the insects’ wings was soft, but became deafening as she realized who the corpses were.
Trembling, she squatted before her brother, Axton, and brother-in-law, Forrest. She brought her fingers to their bloodied heads where they’d been shot.
“Br-brother,” she said, her shaky voice barely a whisper.
Where’s Marie? she asked herself, scanning the ground ahead of her for more bodies. Where’s Polly?
The tweet of a bird pulled Fawn’s gaze from Axton’s shattered skull to the porch of Pete and Audrey’s home, up the small slope from the dance hall. A cardinal sat on the porch railing. The bird fluttered its cherry-red wings and tipped its small head toward the gaping door. She swiped her fingers against her cheek, unknowingly smearing her brother’s blood across her flesh.
Eyes fixated on the cardinal, Fawn cleared the slope and halted in front of the steps of Pete’s home. The bird took flight, hovering above the railing. Fawn stared into the creature’s beady, black eyes, which seemed to swell with tears. Just before the bird disappeared into the branches of the pine trees circling her brother’s home, she swore its eyes had gleamed with a hint of green.
Shaking her head at the impossible image, Fawn climbed the steps. The deaths of Hunter, Axton, and Forrest weighed heavily upon her shoulders, bowing her spine. On the porch, she had a better vantage point of the soldiers scrambling to investigate what had happened at the rear entrance. They had fetched a ladder and were now sending two men over the wall. Inside the smoking Humvee, Vance remained unresponsive to his comrades’ shouts through the crack in the gate.
She turned and sprinted into Pete’s home. The smell of blood stained the air. A crimson trail on the floor led from the kitchen to the master bedroom. Scattered glass from the busted window near the woodstove crunched beneath her moccasins as she followed the trail. Passing by Audrey’s rocking chair, she stepped in gooey muck. She lifted her foot and brought the back of her hand to her nose. The acrid smell of vomit filled her nostrils.
Breathing through her mouth, she rounded the corner and entered Pete and Audrey’s bedroom. A puddle of blood had accumulated from Pete’s bludgeoned head. His arm lay strewn across Audrey’s chest. Her sister-in-law’s half-open, glassy eyes stared up at the ceiling. Fawn sank to her knees, grimacing at the blatant evidence that Audrey had been raped. The blood and skin wedged beneath her fingernails were proof that she had given them hell. Fawn imagined her body would’ve looked like Audrey’s if she’d had the courage to fight back.
She pulled down Audrey’s skirt to cover her private area and legs. She turned her attention to Pete. The soot staining her face got a free ride from her silent tears as they streamed down her face. She kissed the temple of her brother’s head. Backing away from him, she was caught off guard when he grabbed her wrist.
“Brother!” she said and gasped, turning his body so she could get a better look at him. “You-you’re alive.”
Pete opened his mouth. She was able to decipher the faint whisper.
“K-k-kids,” he said, his eyelids growing heavy.
“The kids are safe,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “We’ve got them.”
A crooked smile formed at the corner of his mouth. He closed his eyes, sending puddled tears down his temples. Opening his eyes, he stared Fawn gravely in the face.
“Wa-wa-Wakiza’s s-sp-spear,” he said, on the brink of losing consciousness. “I-I ne-never t-told th-th-them about the b-bunker.”
Fawn’s mind flipped through the passages of Gran’s journal, landing on Wakiza’s last words to her. “My people are tethered to this land, and I to you,” Wakiza had said before gifting the spear to Fawn’s grandmother.
“I-I’m s-sorry,” he said, his chin quivering. “S-s-sister . . .”
Pete’s face fell to the side, his last breaths seeping through his parted lips.
Shakily, Fawn picked up her bow and rose to her feet.
“I’m sorry, too, little brother,” she said, wiping her face. “I’m sorry, too.”
Burdened with grief, Fawn came to the doorway of Pete’s bedroom. The beginning winds of autumn ripped through the broken window in the kitchen, sending the curtains flapping. Three words whispered faintly on the wind that drifted toward Fawn. The words, “I always knew,” reverberated around her, turning her skin into gooseflesh.
Fawn rushed through Pete’s house, kicking up the shattered glass littering the floor. On the porch, her lungs were stripped of air as a booming crack erupted from the sky. Within Back Wood’s walls, the cloudless, pale blue sky was enveloped in red smoke. She cleared the last step of the porch. The atmosphere had turned a hazy crimson as the smoke descended.
Asher’s voice came from the speakers attached to the top of each pole.
“People of Back Wood,” he said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Know that your children are safe with me.” He paused before continuing. “Good luck . . .”
The bunker, she thought, nocking an arrow. Wakiza’s spear.
Fawn hoped that retrieving the spear would call Wakiza and his tribesmen to arms. If her people could get to the bunker, they could possibly be spared the wrath of the Red Rain. The latch of the bunker was covered with a thick layer of dried clay, dirt, and leaves. She prayed that the poison wouldn’t be able to eat through the interior of the bunker, which was made of strong metal plates.
The soldiers that had been guarding Fawn’s people at the cornfield had joined their comrades at the rear entrance and had managed to seal the gate. The last three soldiers scaled the ladder Fawn had witnessed their comrades climbing five minutes ago.
Some of Fawn’s people had scattered, and were heading for the front and back entrances. Others — including Marie and Polly — sat petrified on the ground, holding on to each other. Fawn sprinted down the slope toward her huddled family members. Ezra and Basiel ran to Marie and Polly, urging them to stand. Fenton and Lizzie held up Cooper, who Fawn recalled had suffered a stroke after being told of Amos’s death. A pale, malnourished Dean, who had been locked up after he’d delivered the news of Amos’s death to Laken, struggled from the ground.
“The bunker!” Fawn exclaimed.
The descending fumes of the red smoke had her coughing into her fist. A fresh coat of blood stained her hand.
“Get to the bunker!”
She passed the dance hall and was ambushed by the red smoke making a horseshoe. The only direction she could safely go was backward toward her tepee and Joshua’s grave. Gurgling coughs and the cries of her people reached her ears. She shouted at the wall of gaining smoke, praying someone could hear her on the other side.
“The bunker!” she exclaimed again, losing her voice. “G-get to the bunker!”
Turning away from the acrid smoke, she spotted the oak tree wedged up against Back Wood’s barrier behind her tepee. Sprinting for the tree, she studied the thickness of its lower and higher limbs. She would have to climb if she was going to make it out alive.
The bunker, Marie, she thought, hoping to telepathically will her sister in its direction. The bunker. It’s your only chance.
Halting before the tree trunk, Fawn situated her bowstring across her chest. She grasped the lowest branch and heaved herself up. Taking one last look at death approaching, she reached for another limb, ascending. Halfway up, a branch snapped beneath her feet. She clung to one of the limbs overhead, wrapping her legs around the trunk. Her profile pressed against the jagged shards of bark. Her mind was raided with images of her rapist pinning her face to the ground. She shook her head, casting the memory from her
thoughts. Taking a raspy breath, laced with the metallic taste of blood, she set her sights upward and continued the climb.
Fawn’s face and arms were nicked and scratched by the jutting twigs of the branches. With an ache in her lungs, she struggled through her labored breaths. She reached the top of the barrier where the tree’s thickest branch overlapped the wall. She swung her right leg over the barrier, and was grasping the overlapping branch when a gust of wind quickened the crimson wave’s pace. Her left calf stung as it was enveloped with red. Tightening her grip on the branch, she jerked her leg from the other side of the wall.
She hung from the branch, dangling at least twelve feet above the ground. Inching her way down the branch, she spotted a bush of vines and shrubbery. She prayed they weren’t briar vines. Dried pine needles and leaves had been swept into the vines by the wind. The branch creaked and cracked as she swung her legs in the direction of the shrubbery and loosened her grip.
Spikes from the briar vines dug into her flesh as she landed on her side. Untangling herself from the barbs’ clutches, her ears perked up at the sound of soldiers ahead of her. A group of them were huddled together near the rear entrance.
“I don’t know,” she heard Vance say. He coughed. “I-I can’t remember anything. My head was hit pretty hard.”
Fawn rose to her feet and stepped into the cover of the woods. She peered from behind the nearest tree, watching a man pull something from the floorboard of the wrecked Humvee.
“What’s this doing down here?” the man asked, turning Fawn’s hatchet over in his hands.
She looked at the loop at her side, realizing she’d dropped her father’s hatchet.
“Spread out,” the man said, turning and driving the hatchet’s blade into Back Wood’s outer wall. “Commander Asher’s going to want the owner of this blade found. They might’ve had something to do with the tracker monitor being blown to shit.”
Sprinting through the thick of the woods, Fawn headed in the direction she’d left Juniper. A third of the way there, her stride was shortened by a searing pain in her left calf. She stumbled to the ground, clutching her leg. She felt as though her blood was boiling beneath her flesh. Biting her bottom lip, she scrambled to her feet and limped the remainder of her short journey. About twenty minutes later, she approached Juniper, managing to grace her with a trembling smile. Stomping at the ground, Juniper bobbed her head up and down.
Fawn leaned against a tree to catch her breath. Hot bile rose to the back of her throat. Blood seeped from her lips, staining her chin. A burning in Fawn’s chest had her sinking to her knees. She cowered in a fetal position and coughed into her palm, soaking her hand with crimson. Her mouth clamped shut. Choking on her own blood, her jaw was latched so tight, she felt as though her teeth were going to splinter and burst.
Vibrations in the earth were followed by a low, steady hum. Vroom. Fawn widened her eyes, struggling through the blurriness of her tainted sight. A roofed, motorized cart was headed straight for her. A man clothed in the same plastic suits as his comrades sped in her direction.
The only thought that managed to fight through the haziness of Fawn’s mind was, Enemy.
Red Rain had exhausted Fawn’s motor functions, as well as stripped her of strength. The ATV came to a complete stop. The man sprung out the side of the vehicle, coming to her side.
“Ma—” Blythe began and shook his head. “Fawn, I’m here to help.”
Clutched in Blythe’s hand was a red container with a white handle. Everything surrounding his form was blurred into a wide range of browns and greens. Blythe turned his focus to the container. Opening it, he reached inside. His hand emerged holding a syringe.
“Hold on, Fawn,” he said, tapping the shaft of the tube with his finger.
Blood fought through the crevices of Fawn’s gritting teeth as Blythe gripped her arm. The needle pierced her skin and then he pressed down on the pump, releasing the liquid into her veins. The pressure in Fawn’s chest and stomach deflated, and her jaw loosened.
“It’s okay,” he said, bringing his palm beneath her head. “It’s over now.”
Through the decreasing blood flow and agony in her lungs, Fawn managed to utter a few words.
“N-no it’s not,” she wheezed, breathing in sips of air. “I-it hasn’t even begun.”
Blythe didn’t have a response as he swooped her up from the ground. Those would be her last words for days, as she blacked out.
PART III
COMING TO
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
September 18, 2086
Blythe had spent two hours by the bridge over the creek. The cardinal spoke of numerous casualties and a battle that would take place three and a half months from then. She’d told him that if he failed to stop the Red Rain from being dropped, his destiny would take a dark turn. Instead of the quick death he preferred, it would be slow and torturous — the same as his father’s. Further persuasion to help the majestic creature’s people hadn’t been needed.
However, when the time came for Blythe to act, his feet were rooted to the ground. He couldn’t bring himself to harm Vance, who’d been commanded to form a crew to dispense the Red Rain. Had he’d known that the NWA had prepared a double dose of poison due to the size of the community, he would’ve thought to check the proceedings at Back Wood’s front gate. At least that’s what he’d told himself as he watched the tube of crimson exploding in the sky.
The cardinal had caught him sulking near a group of ATVs, wearing a hooded hazmat suit.
“Get to Fawn in the woods,” the spirit had said, anger rattling her tone. “Then make your way down the creek until you find the children. Redemption is still yours for the taking,” she’d said, staring him down with her beady black eyes, now laced with a hint of green. “You only need the courage to seek it.”
The NWA had loaded all of their electronics and generators onto two buses. They’d removed the seats from the yellow vehicles to make room. The tracker monitor lit up the inside of the bus to Blythe’s right. He peered over his shoulder at the back of the ATV he leaned against. Grouped together on a leather strap were three grenades with a timer.
Seven soldiers — their backs turned toward a lonesome Blythe — laughed amongst each other. The screams and pounds of Back Wood’s people on the front gate were humorous to them. Rage boiled over inside of Blythe as he snatched the explosives from the ATV. The flickering light of the tracker monitor beckoned him forward. He set the timer on the grenades to six minutes and tossed them into the back of the bus. Enticed and excited by their victims’ pleas, the seven soldiers hadn’t noticed his sudden departure in one of the medic ATVs.
Blythe rode up on Fawn and Juniper during his second hour of searching the woods. He injected Fawn with the antidote, and then stripped her of her contaminated clothing and set fire to it. He removed the cross from around her neck and placed it in a small glass container with a lid. Blythe wrapped Fawn’s naked body in a wool blanket and placed her gently into the back of his ATV. He rushed to set up an IV to keep her hydrated and medicated, hanging the bag of fluid on the upper railing of the ATV.
It took Blythe over half an hour to calm Juniper after he’d gotten her unconscious mistress settled in his ATV.
“It’s okay, Juni,” he’d whispered, holding his hands out before him. “It’s okay.” He’d untied her reins and secured them to the back of the ATV, near Fawn’s head. He traveled at a slow pace so he wouldn’t tug Juniper.
For five hours, he trailed the edge of the creek as the cardinal had instructed him. He found eleven of Back Wood’s children huddled together on the ground behind an armed Noelle and a woman with short brown hair, whom he hadn’t met before. Noelle introduced the woman as Davlyn and assured her that Blythe was a trustworthy man. Having Fawn and Juniper in tow seemed to help persuade Davlyn that Blythe was one of the good guys.
Seeing Fawn in such a poor state of health conveyed to Noelle and Davlyn that something had gone horribly wrong at Back
Wood. It didn’t take long for the children to realize they wouldn’t be able to return home for quite some time or, maybe, never again. Blythe hated to break the news to them, but he did anyway. The heartache that spread like wildfire across each child’s face reminded him of how he’d felt after his father’s execution.
They arrived at Caddo two hours before sunup on their third day of traveling. Davlyn climbed the steps of Laken’s elevated home, while the others waited for her in the woods. Blythe watched over Fawn, lying unconscious in the back of his ATV, and saw that her breathing was labored. He needed a secure place to look after her properly — and fast. Reesa and Noelle tried to keep the kids calm, but their cries couldn’t be suppressed by soothing words.
Shaken up by the news of Back Wood’s fate, Laken quickly showed them to the docks over the lake. Blythe parked the medic ATV he’d stolen with the others the NWA had stationed at Caddo. He tied Juniper’s reins to a dock post beside Davlyn and Noelle’s rides. They loaded the kids into three canoes. Blythe, Davlyn, and Laken took control of the oars and directed the canoes’ bows to Griffin’s orchard across the lake. Blythe had heard Griffin’s name mentioned at the mess hall. Many of the soldiers craved his figs and plums for dessert — Blythe being one of them.
Noelle cradled Fawn’s head at the front of Blythe’s canoe. The light of the moon shimmered and danced off the ripples of the water as they rowed toward their destination. Before leaving Juniper at the docks, Blythe had promised that he’d be back to fetch her soon. He peered over his shoulder, staring at Juniper’s shrinking, neighing form. He brought his eyes forward and continued to row.
I’ll be back before daybreak, Juni, he thought, grimacing as Juniper let out a distressed neigh. I promise.