by Eric Keller
Aslan harshly whispered, “Stop.”
The sad caravan ceased as Jacob, Tina and Griff were roughly sat down amongst low pine boughs. Steel Eyes loomed above them, standing guard while Aslan and Mr. Badger slipped off into the trees. Jacob felt clueless, but he did not care, content merely to be off his feet.
Griff, apparently not content with simply resting, asked the hard looking young woman, “Why they leave you back?”
She growled, “Quiet idiot.”
“I’m only saying, seems they boss you around pretty good.”
Jacob winced, expecting Griff to receive at least a kick. Instead, Steel Eyes growled again, “Shut your damn mouth. Don’t make me hurt you.”
Griff gave Jacob a watered down version of his mischievous look. Despite the fatigue and pain, his friend still tiredly poked at their captors, perhaps looking for a weakness to exploit or, maybe merely being his usual difficult self. Tina kept her distance from their captors as much as possible, Jacob also had no interest in talking to the strangers. Instead, he watched, intrigued by having new people to observe. Even though smiling was the last thing he wanted to do, Jacob managed a weak grin of his own, knowing it easier to go along with Griff than to lecture or persuade him to change behaviour.
For half an hour, they merely sat, listening to the muffled sounds of the forest. When Aslan and Mr. Badger returned, they were dragging a scrawny man with a yellowing beard and rough clothes made of hides. They set him down next to Jacob and, with scary efficiency, tied the new captive’s hand and tethered his ankles.
With their work down Aslan clapped Mr. Badger on the back. “How’s that for trapping a trapper? He’ll probably be tough as hell to chew but might be a good worker.”
Steel Eyes asked, “He out here by himself?”
Aslan answered, “Seems like. My guess is, we follow the line; it’ll lead us to a cabin or house or something.”
At this, the old trapper raised his battered face and spat out, “No cabin out here, assholes.”
This caused their guards to chuckle. Griff, for some reason, laughed along with them as he said, “Yeah, assholes.”
The chuckles stopped, and Aslan nodded subtly to Steel Eyes. She quickly cut a switch off a nearby willow and, without a word, began whipping Griff with the stick. He curled up and wiggled on the ground, trying to avoid the stinging blows as the others loudly laughed at his torment. When she finally stopped, Jacob looked over at Griff to see if he was ok, but he only got a vacant stare back, all sense of mischievousness and cockiness left his face.
Jacob could not worry about his friend’s psyche though as his thirst overtook all thoughts. He watched with silently pleading eyes as the three guards passed a plastic water jug back and forth. They each drank deeply, ignoring the thirsty people tied up beneath them, before putting the lightened jug into Jacob’s backpack and pulling them to their feet to recommence the sad trek.
After an hour or so, the trapper marching behind Jacob whispered to him, “You three... you youngsters, you from that there old hunting lodge? Camp Malden?”
Shock overruled Jacob’s fear of being caught talking, “How you know about that?”
“Kid, you think you can build up a place like that out there without the trappers ‘round here knowing? Hell, you must be extra foolish, even for town folks.”
A fresh worry filled Jacob, piling up on top of the fears and torments already coursing through him. This old man knew about Malden. He could tell their attackers. “How do you know we’re from there?”
“Tended clothes, cut hair and you’re big, dumb fawn eyes like you’re seeing the world for the first goddamn time. Heard rumors there was a community up there now. Thought about paying you all a visit this summer, do some trading.”
“These people, these people with the guns, they can’t know… they can’t know about Malden.”
The responding whisper carried a slightly mocking tone to it as the man behind him said, “Think these guys’ll let me go if I give up a fat prize like your home? I think so, you probably got lots to eat up there, not to mention some nice, young, clean ladies, I imagine.”
Jacob stumbled over a root. “Please, don’t tell them. My family, a girl -”
Jacob’s sad plea was cut off by Mr. Badger laughing out, “No cabin, eh? That there looks pretty cabin like to me.”
Up ahead, tuck neatly amongst some massive pines, sat a low, log cabin. Aslan harshly cuffed the trapper across the face. “That’s for lying old man. Now make your houseguests feel welcome.”
. . .
Screams of the wounded could now be heard coming from his left and his right. Hale reached into his quiver. Two arrows left. To make things worse, for some time now, he heard no gunfire coming from his men with the two rifles while a nearly constant barrage continued to come from the Survivalists.
Returning to the settlement from the woods, the patrol spied a handful of people moving about, but they could not account for everyone. Hale placed his men as close as possible without being seen and opted to wait until the Preppers moved to spell off the dead guards. As soon as the replacement guards entered the woods, the patrol attacked.
Hale had given one plundered rifle to Milo and the other to Wilson as they were the best shots. Unfortunately, they were out of practice with guns, and their first volley missed allowing the Preppers to scatter for cover. The more familiar arrows found their marks better, taking down the startled replacement guards, but another Prepper managed to get in behind a shed while two more made it back to the longhouse taking away any advantage of surprise. A lengthy standoff followed with the patrol trying to encircle while the Preppers fired from their ensconced positions.
Clarence snarled at Hale, fear obvious in his voice, “This is a disaster. We’re almost out of ammunition and no closer to taking them.”
“Stating the obvious is no help.”
Unfortunately, the walking annoyance was right. They needed to do something soon or, with the sun setting, the Preppers would be able to reorganize under cover of darkness.
“Seems you missed the obvious here as you’ve screwed this up completely. What do we do now?”
“Gather our people to the east,” pointing, Hale added, “Meet me behind those willows.”
It took a few minutes for the patrol, now with four injured men, to collect behind the bunch of trees. The low sun glared behind them, casting long shadows. Hale detailed his improvised frontal assault plan.
Together the eleven of them charged, hoping the setting sun would blind their enemies. Hale led, forcing his legs to keep pumping as the crack of gunfire rang all around. He jumped over a rail fence of a pen but stumbled on the landing, falling down as others managed to rush past him. He heard a snap as a bullet splintered the wood behind him. Hesitating would be fatal. A twisted knee ached, and his heart threatened to explode from his chest, but he barely noticed, pushing himself up and only caring about moving forward.
Wilson fell as they ran, crashing wounded or dead in the grass and Hale slowed to scoop up his rifle. Eight of them made it, running fast, pushed by their comrades’ screams of pain. They charged into the yard, darting between the buildings. While the others flattened themselves against the long building so the rifles inside could not find them, Hale and Milo turned a corner at full speed. Their arrows took out the Prepper hiding behind the shed as he fumbled to reload his rifle.
With no hesitation, the remnants of the patrol kicked in the door of the longhouse. Two Bankers hurled lit lanterns inside, smashing them against the back wall before moving to the side of the door. A slight hesitation then the whooshing sound of kerosene erupting into flames. Preppers fled the flames through the only door in the building and were met by a
flock of arrows.
Jumping over the bodies, Hale led the patrol inside the fiery building. The woman with the white hair and an elderly man remained huddled in a corner, holding up blankets against the heat of the flames. Hale ordered everyone to ignore them and put out the flames. In the matter of a minute, the building with all its supplies was safe. Heavy casualties but the settlement of Gergesa was there’s.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
JUNE 17, 2046
DAY THREE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND SIXTY-SEVEN
Morreign could feel a deep, awkward angst hanging over Malden with three of their youth now gone ten days. Paul and Matt had returned from searching, tired and defeated, having seen no sign of their sons or the boat. On their return, the quiet talk of holding funerals began, people seeking closure of the issue so they, and the community, could move on.
Morreign discussed a funeral softly and vaguely with Paul. He dodged making a definitive decision but gave the impression he could accept the idea, having, on his lengthy, depressing hike back, come to grips with the fact that his last child was gone. She, however, found it beyond difficult to turn her mind to saying a final goodbye to Jacob, certain that clinging to painfully thin and senseless hope was all that kept her sane and functioning. A funeral would destroy that mirage and, surely, grief would overwhelm her.
Walking through the Lodge’s common room, Morreign suffered curious stares as she nodded to the handful of people finishing their dinners before she limped up the stairs. Raising her pale fist to knock, Morreign rapped quietly.
Louisa’s eyes were red with tears. Clearly, the news of Paul and Matt’s failure had reached her. Without a word, she moved aside to let Morreign into the narrow room.
Morreign never visited her room before. The cramped space only held a skinny bed, a worn out chair, and a thin table. Regardless, Louisa obviously took pride in the simple space. Yellow drapes made out of dyed sheets brought in color while a wide mirror made of carefully flattened and polished tinfoil made the place seem bigger. Decorations of dried flowers and handcrafted hangings covered the walls. A rug of knotted, colorful rags softened the plank floor. A home, the girl, had turned the tiny cell into a cozy, welcoming home.
“I have a couple cookies left. One of the benefits of people pitying you is extra treats. They’re the dry kind Shelia makes but better than nothing.”
Taking the treasured rarity felt wrong to Morreign but denying the gesture would be rude. Sitting on the rickety chair and biting the cookie, she agreed they were dry but tasty. Butter no longer existed but she doubted Louisa even knew cookies were supposed to have butter in them.
Louisa sat cross-legged on the bed, and they nibbled in companionable silence, savoring the delicacy before Morreign asked, “You’ve heard Paul and Matt got back?”
“Yeah, can’t say I’m surprised, but it still hurts to hear it for certain.”
After a moment, Morreign, numb from the onslaught of despair, said coldly, “People are talking of holding funerals.”
Louisa merely looked at her, pondering this idea before she eventually shook her head. “I don’t know about Griff and Tina, but I don’t think Jacob would want a funeral. Not like this.”
A stab of guilt pierced Morreign’s chest like an ice pick. She only thought about what her reaction to a funeral would be, she had not thought about what her son would want. Realization quickly followed. Louisa was right, Jacob would not want people sitting around crying and remembering him.
“You’re completely right. If he we were here, Jacob would say no thanks.”
Surprisingly this got a snort of a laugh from Louisa. She covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t laugh. This all feels surreal. I mean, if they’re dead they won’t care about damn funerals, and if they’re alive, they’re going to be struggling, dealing with far more serious problems than whether we get together and talk about them.”
The reaction made Morreign laugh a bit herself and, for the first time in days she enjoyed a minor sensation of relaxation. The ache, which had been constantly residing in her stomach, faded slightly, and she let out a long breath.
“Louisa, I have to say, I appreciate how you first thought about the funeral from his perspective. I feel awfully selfish. I was only thinking about how horrible the funeral would be for me.”
“Funny. For days now, I keep telling myself that I’m selfish.”
“Really? What makes you think that?”
“Well, if I truly believe he’s alive then I have to believe him, and Griff and Tina are out there with no gear or food, starving and freezing.”
This thought had not completely escaped Morreign, but she worked hard to push the idea of her hope that they survived also meaning her child was suffering somewhere in the wilderness to the deep back of her mind. She merely nodded.
Louisa continued, “Right. But instead of worrying about him out there or missing him, all I really find myself doing is getting angry about all I dreamt about for so long now not happening.”
The idea that Louisa thought about a future with Jacob should not have been surprising but now the idea intrigued Morreign, and it provided a chance for a change of subject. “What sort of things do you dream about?”
Picking at the frayed hem of her jeans, Louisa sighed, “Nothing strange or anything, simple things. We talked about building a new cabin, maybe kind of removed away from the rest. Not too far, but maybe closer to the river. Jacob even worked on some basic plans. They looked pretty rough, but I figured Leo could help with the details when it came time to start.”
A smile crossed Morreign’s lips at the realization young people in Malden thought about building lives together the same as young people in the past did. She asked, “Really? He was going to put up a cabin?”
“Oh yeah, multiple rooms and a cellar. I pictured putting in another garden, you know, in the stretch between the poplars and the creek. I’ve been thinking about trying multiple crops. Spring onions and then late fall potatoes, or whatever so we could get two harvests. Something everyone could benefit from.
“I saw us spending the days working, side by side. Then, in the evenings, we’d sit together and eat dinner while laughing at silly jokes before climbing beneath a warm quilt to fall asleep in each other’s arms. At some point, a pudgy baby with curly hair like his…”
Tears were now running down her cheeks to her chin before falling on to the girl’s lap. Morreign moved to sit next to her on the hard bed. She had been pitying herself, but now she felt intensely grateful for all the life she had been lucky enough to enjoy fully and easily before the harshness came. Louisa knew nothing but hard times, hard times which seemed destined to constantly get harder.
. . .
Griff looked awful as he tottered on his ruined ankle. Tina’s fever had let up some, but her pack seemed to be pushing her into the ground with every step. Jacob wondered if he looked any better himself after being forcibly marched for seven days with almost no food and minimal water. The hunger pains disappeared a while back but the incredible, overwhelming thirst persisted, and his muscles ached intolerably. Now every movement made him feel dizzy, and his throat felt like fire, and his own load sent painful shocks down his spine. As the sun got higher and his head became dizzier with fatigue he gratefully pondered how this might be his last day alive.
As usual, they stopped midday so the guards could torment them by eating and drinking their fill while the captives watched, lucky to get a quick mouthful of water before being moved along. Today though, Mr. Badger tossed them a half-full jug of water saying, “We’ll be home before supper so you fools might as well drink this one up.”
The influx of unexpected water eased the agony in Jacob’s throat but the news the
y would soon be done marching truly rejuvenated him. Once their prisoners became too exhausted to flee, the guards became less watchful providing them the opportunity to talk if they could muster the energy. For the last two days, Griff barely seemed conscious and not up for conversation. Tina initially tried to raise spirits but, eventually, her jovial nature fell on deaf ears, and she too retreated into her own misery.
After giving in to Jacob and agreeing not to help their captors find Malden, grunting that he’d probably seen enough killing in his life to not need to cause some at the end, the trapper generally did not talk much, appearing to have resolved himself to an unfortunate finish. However, Jacob decided to try again now that they were close to stopping.
“Hey, you hear that? We’re getting to wherever we’re going today.”
A scoff.
“We’ll be done walking soon.”
Another scoff. Jacob was about to give up on conversation when the old man turned slightly and asked, “And you think that’s good news?”
The question confused Jacob, and he responded, “Yeah, I guess. Has to be better than walking and starving all day.”
“I’d reconsider that.”
“You know where we’re going?”
“Got a pretty good idea.”
Curious dread about their destination overfilled Jacob, and he blurted out, “Where?”
The trapper glanced over at the kidnappers who seemed uninterested in them before he whispered, “I’m not sure, but I think these are some of the crazy survivalist types. They set up a settlement about thirty years ago, and all of us up here learned to give them a wide berth. Heard a rumor couple years ago that they all gone completely insane after all civilization went away.”