Valley of Reckoning

by N A Broadley

  “I don’t know. We had them. We were inside their compound then we got hammered from behind!” Rocco stuttered. And they’d had them. They’d breached their defenses. But then it all went to shit.

  “You mean to tell me, with our firepower, our superior fighting force, you all turned tail and ran like a bunch of schoolgirls?” Ryder snarled. Rocco’s eyes dropped.

  “Get the hell out of my sight before I slit your throat!” Ryder threatened. He watched through narrowed eyes as the man slunk away with his head down. Turning to Maria, his woman, he snarled.

  “Get Jensen on the radio. We need back up!” Maria nodded and walked into the tent they shared to do what he ordered. She learned from experience that when he was this angry, it was best to keep her mouth shut and do what he asked.

  He paced back and forth, burning off the angry energy that sang through his veins. What a shit show! He’d lost twenty-five percent of his men to those local yokels. Twenty-five percent! His eyes fell onto the camp. Tents sat clustered in every available open spot between the trees. He hated these woods. He was a city boy. Give him tall buildings and crowded streets any day over this backwoods crap. New York, his city, and his territory. A cough from behind him brought his attention back.

  “Jenson is sending another fifty men. They’ll be here at dawn.” Maria said. She moved up close to him and pressed her body into his. He felt his anger drain, and he pulled her into his arms.

  “Woman,” he murmured. She turned her face up to his and smiled.

  “Easy. The men are beaten to shit. Take it easy on them, okay?” she murmured. She knew how to defuse his temper. Space, a bit of time, then her body. She had the routine down well. He glanced down at her and smiled, narrowing his eyes.

  “Don’t push it, Maria,” he warned. She nodded and lifted her mouth to his, kissing him deeply.

  “We will win this battle. Then the compound will be yours. Don’t worry.” she murmured. She nuzzled her face into the curve of his neck. They needed to win. If not, then his life would be short-lived. Jenson had already warned her of that. And if that happened? It gave her chills just thinking about it. Jenson would lay claim to her, and she’d rather die than be his woman.

  “Go away from me. I’ve got some thinking to do.” Ryder said. He pushed her away.

  Maria sat near the campfire and watched as Ryder moved among the men, speaking with each. Dayton tended to the wounded and his woman, Delia, helped him. Dayton was their only medic, and his hands were full.

  She sighed tiredly and rubbed a hand on her throat. It felt worse. It hurt to swallow. Picking up the cup of tea she’d made, she sipped at it slowly; hoping it would ease the razor-sharp pain. Ryder glanced over at her, and she smiled. He was her man. Had always been hers. She’d known him since she was twelve. They’d grown up together. They’d fought together. She was as much a part of his gang as any member.

  When the event happened, they’d moved fast and hard—bloody street by street, fighting to assure their territory. But together with their brothers and sisters, they’d done it. They now ruled much of the Upper East Side, from Central Park to 59th Street, the East River, and 96th Street. They protected their community and expanded their territory. All the stores and businesses, which would have been looted by others, were safe under their watch. They painted their gang sign on every street corner, every building, and every telephone pole. And no one dared challenge them.

  Then Jenson and the Alliance came in and offered them a deal. She begged Ryder to refuse it. She didn’t like Jenson one bit. His slimy, greasy attitude and his shifting eyes sent her gut reeling with dread. But Ryder wouldn’t listen.

  Shaking her head, she began to form a plan in the event this whole thing went south. She’d protect her man and herself. If it meant killing Jenson, then so be it. She’d be damned if she would let all she fought for fall into his and the Alliance’s hands. Her brothers and sisters would back her up she knew if it came down to it. Setting her cup on the ground, she looked at Alyssa and nodded. The young girl got up and picked it up, carrying it to the bucket of water near their tent to rinse it out. Maria’s eyes followed her every move. She despised the hostage, But Ryder wanted her and what Ryder wanted he usually got. If it were up to her, she would slice the girl’s throat and be done with it. It didn’t matter though; he would tire of his little plaything. When he did, he’d cut her loose where another man in the gang would pick her up as his own. It was a hard life for the young girl, but then again, it was a hard life for everyone.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Beth stumbled. Her legs were tired and her hip screamed with pain. She clenched her teeth. The man in front of her, Raymond, stayed perfectly still. She threaded in and out of his skin with the needle. A bullet had carved a six-inch gash in his thigh. Mel stood at another table working on a boy of fifteen who’d taken a knife to his lower back. Beth could hear his soft groans as Mel cleaned and stitched his wound. They’d been working on wounded for hours along with three other medics from Naomi’s group. The last time any of them had seen shut eye had been yesterday. It was beginning to affect them.

  Beth looked up when another patient came in. A young girl of about sixteen. She had a gash to her forehead.

  “Set her up over there,” Beth said tiredly. “How many more?”

  Sarah shook her head. Her face throbbed from the twenty-two stitches that Mel had sewn into her.

  “About ten more, superficial,” she replied. Beth nodded. They would be working at least another couple of hours. Her shoulders slumped with fatigue while she finished bandaging Raymond’s thigh. She nodded to Sarah to help him out. There was no room left in the infirmary, so they transferred all the non-critical patients to the guardhouse. There were plenty of beds there for them. She motioned to the young girl.

  “C’mon over, sweetie, let’s take a look,” she murmured.

  A commotion from outside stopped her, and her breath caught in her throat. She glanced nervously toward the door, her heart thudding with fear. Sarah drew her gun and positioned herself for trouble. Beth motioned for the girl to climb under the table. She reached for her gun. Tensely she waited, holding her breath.

  The door flew open with a kick and Spike dragged another wounded man in. Everyone was on edge, jumpy.

  A few hours later, Sarah sighed loudly when she entered the room. “This is the last one,” She guided the man in, helping him to sit on the edge of Beth’s table. His had a broken arm. Beth sighed and looked at him.

  “I’m going to set this. It’s gonna hurt like hell. I’m giving you a shot of morphine for the pain, but you’ll still feel it a bit,” she said. She slipped the needle into his arm.

  The man grimaced and nodded his head. His green eyes carried the same shadow of shock as most of the rest of them. Beth’s heart gave a tug of pity. They were all in shock. They were all exhausted, just moving numbly from one thing to another. She knew that those outside who were able, were helping with burying the dead, cleaning up the damage caused by the pipe bombs and Molotov cocktails that had been launched at the compound, cooking up food for the community, and whatever else needed doing.

  “Do what you need to,” he croaked gruffly. He’d been in pain for so long a little bit more didn’t much matter. He sighed in defeat. His mind replayed the events of the past twelve hours. He’d lost many friends in this battle, and his heart ached heavily with sadness.

  “I’ll try to do it quickly,” she said. She grabbed his lower arm and gave a yank. Sarah winced as she watched his face drain of color and moved behind him in case he passed out. She watched Beth move quickly, putting two splints in place then wrapping them with an ace wrap. She didn’t have the materials for casting him properly, so this would have to do. Would his bones heal straight? She didn’t know.

  She watched the morphine begin to take hold and his eyes become glassy. Nodding to Sarah, they helped him off the table.

  “Make sure you take him directly to his bed. With the morphine loaded in
, we don’t want him trying to walk around. Shit, knowing our luck he’d fall and break his other arm,” Beth muttered. Sarah nodded and led the man out the door.

  They moved the man to a storage room which Beth and Sarah had cleaned out. An I.V. fed into one of his veins and Beth watched it drip slowly, feeding him fluids to compensate for the blood he’d lost. He needed a transfusion but not knowing his blood type, it wasn’t worth the risk, in her opinion. Sarah laid a warm hand on Beth’s shoulder.

  “I’ll stay with him. Why don’t you grab a bite to eat then take a shower? You are exhausted, Beth,” she urged. Beth nodded. She didn’t want to leave his side, but fatigue hammered at her, and her eyes felt itchy with grit.

  “Did you check on Jessie? Let her out and feed her?” she asked. Sarah smiled.

  “Yes, Jessie’s fine. Now go. Take care of you,” she said softly.

  The shower, followed by a cup of hot coffee, did wonders for her fatigue. She needed a good solid eight hours of sleep, but the work ahead of her made that nearly impossible. She saw that Mary Anne had pulled together the community, those who were either not involved in the battle or involved in the care of the wounded and had set them to work. There were meals that needed preparing, animals and gardens to be taken care of, laundry to be washed and hung to dry. A group of men set to work filling sandbags and another group was digging fox holes. The mood throughout the compound was one of heavy sadness and disbelief. So many had died, so many were wounded. The battle had shattered the hearts of them all.

  Spying Mary Anne sitting at a table outside the community kitchen, Beth walked over and sat down beside her. Her graying hair spilled out of the haphazard bun atop her head as she bent over the notebook in front of her. Gazing at her face, Beth thought she’d aged so much overnight. Faint lines creased the corners of her eyes, and her shoulders slumped with fatigue. Her shirt was filthy with dirt, blood, and God knew what else.

  “Hey?”

  Mary Anne looked up at her and smiled. Beth could see the sadness of her smile, and it hurt her heart. This woman, who always had a kind word, always uplifted everyone, looked beat down to her socks, defeated and racked with misery.

  “Hey, how are you?” Mary Anne asked. Beth grimaced. Her shoulder screamed with an ache so deep it almost made her want to cry. Her face hurt from the battering she’d taken from the attackers in the infirmary, her heart ached with sadness. Other than that, she was thankful to be alive.

  “Well, I could bitch and moan, but frankly, it won’t help. So, I’m instead running on pure anger,” she replied bitterly.

  Mary Anne nodded.

  “I hear ya. This?” She waved a hand toward the compound, “Our community took a beating. We all took a beating. I don’t know if we’ll survive another one. We’ve got to do better, be better than what we were last night,” she said, her face wrinkling with frustration. “But I don’t know what to do to make it better, to make us better. Roger would have had an answer, he would have come up with a plan, but I can’t. I’ve been racking my brain, but I don’t have a soldier’s heart or knowledge,” she groaned. “I don’t know how to plan defense, how to strategize a battle. And the men that did have that knowledge? They are now dead,” she said, speaking of Roger and Rusty. They were the soldiers. They were the ones who’d strategized and planned in the event of an attack. They were the ones who came up with the training for the men and women in the community.

  Beth shook her head and sighed.

  “We’ve got Naomi and her men we can rely on for help, we’ve got Brian, we’ve got Stinky, Spike, Mitch and we’ll get Cain back. That old codger, Stinky, knows more about war than any of us.” Beth replied, encouraging Mary Anne not to give up hope. “We’ve still got good soldiers. Yes, we lost many last night, and we are down, but we are not out!” she continued. “You need to rely on all of them, let them take the lead in this. Otherwise, you will drive yourself crazy.”

  “I know, I’m just having a moment,” Mary Anne replied, then sighed. “I need sleep. We all need sleep. But…there is just so much to do.”

  “You’re right. Everyone is exhausted. We are running on coffee and adrenaline. It doesn’t make for clear thinking.” Beth replied. “Why don’t you go get some rest? I’ll take a gander over to the infirmary, see how things are going there, then check in on Leslie and Barbs. I’m sure they got the children all settled by now. Stinky can handle directing the repairs to the fences, and men are working on shoring up more foxholes and filling sandbags. Spike is working with the guards and laying out tonight’s work schedule, and I know Mitch is working with a group to bury the dead.” Beth assured her.

  Mary Anne nodded. She needed to get a few hours rest before tackling anything more. Her brain swam in a fog of fatigue, and her body screamed for rest. Pushing herself up from the table, she looked at Beth gratefully.

  “You’re right. I need to step away from this before I drive myself crazy. A few hours’ sleep and I’ll be better able to tackle these problems.” Giving Beth a quick hug, she walked slowly to the main house. She’d done what she could and it had to be good enough for now.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Beth sat by the bed and watched Brian sleep. Her body ached to crawl in beside him, curl up against his chest, and snuggle into the warmth she knew he’d give her. She loved this man. And it surprised her. She hadn’t thought she’d love again after the death of her husband but here she was, stupidly, crazily in love.

  Jessie curled up by her feet, and she absently let her fingers drift into the soft fur by her ears, patting her lightly. In a few hours, he would be leaving to go and fight again. Her heart cried with the pain of so many deaths of those she grown close to. Tiptoeing, she made her way into the living room and sat on the couch.

  She looked up when Sarah quietly entered the room. Beth noticed she had showered and was dressed in clean jeans and a pale green tee shirt. Two handguns hung from her side, and a rifle slung over her shoulder. On her back she carried a light, canvas backpack.

  “And where do you think you’re going?” Beth whispered. She didn’t want to wake Brian.

  “The troops are getting ready to leave in a few hours. I’m going too.” Sarah replied. The look in her eyes, the steel glint of determination, told Beth there was no use in arguing. She sighed sadly.

  “You don’t have to. You can stay here. We need help here too,” Beth whispered. Her voice broke with despair.

  Sarah shook her head. She was a soldier now. Life forced her to become one. This life, the Alliance, the Bobby’s of the world, they all forced her to fight.

  “Beth, you know I can’t. They need me out there. I need to be out there,” she replied softly. Nodding, Beth wiped a tear from her eye with the back of her hand.

  “I wish it were different. I wish you could be just a normal girl with normal girl worries,” she cried softly. But nothing about this new life was normal.

  “I’ll be careful. I’m on Spike’s team. We’re a good group. Strong,” Sarah replied, reassuring her.

  “You make sure you come back to me in one piece, girl,” Beth growled. She stood and hugged her tight. She didn’t want to let her go, but she knew she couldn’t stop her.

  “I will try, I promise,” Sarah murmured. Turning, she walked out to join the group. Sunset was only a few hours away, and they had planned for an early evening attack. Just after dark, where the enemy wouldn’t see them coming.

  Spike saddled up his horse and watched while his group did the same. He was battle-weary and dreaded the thought of more fighting on this night. Sarah moved up beside him and grinned impishly.

  “C’mon old man, we got some bad guys that need an ass-kicking,” she teased. He scowled then grinned at her.

  “You know, Brian will kick my ass if you get hurt, right?”

  Sarah laughed softly. Brian had wanted her on his team, but she’d refused. She knew his attention would be on protecting her rather than on concentrating on the battle. And that was a risk she just wa
sn’t willing to take. He hadn’t liked the idea of her choosing Spike’s team, but she didn’t care. If he got hurt because of her, she’d never be able to forgive herself.

  “Better you than me. Brian scares me,” she joked. Then she climbed up into the saddle. With a light kick, she sent her horse into a slow canter. Spike shook his head and followed. The girl had some guts. Last night she’d fought as well as any of them. She hadn’t backed down, even when the enemy breached the compound. Instead, she climbed down from her nest in the trees and dove into the firefight on the ground. Brian should be proud of her. Pissed yes, but proud.

  He thought of the battle plan that Naomi, himself, and her two commanders had laid out. There were four groups of them heading out. They knew where the Alliance had holed up; Naomi sent out scouts earlier to locate their camp. They planned to split off and go at them from all four sides. His group and Clint’s group would initiate the first wave of attack, with Naomi and Calvin coming in from behind. Brian and Mitch would breach the camp and rescue Cain. Stinky and another of Naomi’s men were assigned to stay at the compound with about forty men, just in case some of the Alliance slipped past them and headed in that direction. On paper their plan sounded good; but, Spike knew, even the best-laid plans often went to shit.

  The sun had just set when they crept up on the camp. Naomi’s group was in position, and two clicks to the radio alerted him that they were ready. He drew his knife from his side and silently made his way through the brush. Grabbing one of the guards, he wrapped his fingers in the man’s hair, drew his head back and sliced his throat before he could shout a warning. A few yards away, he saw Clint doing the same thing with another guard. Both men fell to the ground quietly. On the other side of the camp opposite them, Spike knew Naomi’s men were performing the same task. Taking out the guards.