Beyond All War

by Eric Keller

  Milo glanced at her and then sighed, “Alright, let’s step back a bit. How’s the place set up?”

  Using twigs and leaves, Griff laid out a rough map. A hunting lodge, a wide clearing ringed by cabins, a couple of outbuildings, a path down to the river, thick pine forest all around. As he spoke, Kinma could hear the combination of pride and longing for his home.

  He set a pebble down, saying, “Here’s where the waterwheel is. It’s set in from the bank, there’s a canal all covered by willows so you can’t see it from the river.”

  Milo chuckled, “A waterwheel?”

  “Yeah, Leo designed it. Mainly runs a saw blade for firewood but it can be set up to grind corn, but that don’t work so well.”

  “Jesus, we’re walking right into a pioneer village.”

  “Huh?”

  Pointing at the layout, Milo said, “Don’t worry about it. My guess is Harrison will circle around, come in from behind the lodge to avoid being caught with his back to the river, probably split into three groups to increase the chaos. They’ll stream down from the trees, crashing on the pioneers like a hoard of hungry vampires.”

  “Vampires?”

  Milo asked, “You don’t know about vampires?”

  Griff shook his head. “No, sorry, we don’t have ‘V’ or ‘K’.”

  Confused Milo asked, “Pardon me?”

  “The encyclopaedias. We don’t have the book for ‘V’ or for “K”. They were missing from the set.”

  Kinma and Taco chuckled slightly as Milo said, “Of course, should’ve known that. Anyway, we can explain vampires later, tell me what’s out there, behind the lodge.”

  Griff detailed the terrain, right down to every minor hill and fallen tree. Finally, Milo said, “Alright, might be a spot or two we can set up an ambush out there, funnel them along the creek bed. What about the people? What’ll we have to work with?”

  “There’s twenty-five people, well, I guess twenty-two now, with me, Jake and Tina not there anymore. Six are kids though, they won’t be able to help much. And Morreign, she’s the person in charge, but she busted up her hip falling on some ice so she can’t move much.”

  Milo gave Kinma a knowing look before he turned back to Griff, “Ok, fifteen able-bodied people. Any of them fighters?”

  Griff eagerly ran through a list of the people. None of them were former soldiers, but he described many of them as hardened and good with bows. Kinma decided it could be worse.

  Milo sighed, “Alright, hopefully, that’ll be enough if we can use surprise and if Harrison’s guys are tired out some from the long trip.”

  Griff said, “And there’s Sam.”

  “Sam?”

  “Yeah, Sam.”

  . . .

  Jacob, having decided he needed to get back to Malden as soon as possible, made good time all day, pushing himself to cover as much ground as he could. At one point near noon, he thought he heard the river but, after darting up a rise, he saw the rushing water was only a stream crashing over cement rubble. While he was disappointed about having not reached the river, he forced himself not to pout, sticking to his mantra of no longer acting the child. He drank the cool water until his stomach could hold no more, filled his jug and then drank some more before carrying on.

  By dusk, his legs and back ached badly, but it felt more like being sore after a long day chopping wood than having endured misery. The accomplishment of having covered miles helped, he could tell himself he was closer to home.

  He hurriedly moved around a narrow clearing, collected two handfuls of pine kindling and dried leaves. Having learned the lesson that massive fires brought unwanted people, he created a tiny fire using twigs. Dinner would be simple as he did not spend any time foraging, but he had stumbled across some dandelions and rosebuds. He threw the rosebuds into his pan to make a tea while he slowly chewed the dandelion leaves, trying to keep his loneliness and worries at bay as the evening shadows deepened.

  A strange sound. A cracking noise in the trees. Seemed far off. Probably nothing. He chewed some more. Then it came again. Maybe closer. Jacob got to his tired feet, hoping it was only the breeze in the branches or a young buck testing new antlers as he did not think he could run a handful of steps if he needed to get away.

  Then he heard a different sound. He strained further, his hope fading. A voice. Voices.

  Jacob scrambled, his exhaustion disappearing as he scurried to gather his few belongings. Remembering the chains, the never-ending march, the all-encompassing thirst, he moved with ever increasing speed. He glanced around, looking for an escape route through the thick trees and heard someone call out, “Over here. I smell smoke.”

  Close. Very close. Too close.

  Another voice, off to the side, responded to the first, “Ok, move in.”

  With no time to pick a path, Jacob simply darted through the trees, the branches whipping him as he ran.

  . . .

  Leo was easy to find as he was constantly tinkering away in his ad hoc workshop behind the Lodge.

  Morreign asked, “What’s the nutty professor inventing tonight?”

  The large man turned from his bench, pliers in his paw-likehand. “Oh, hey, Morreign. No inventing this time. Fixing the pulley, it got bent putting up the A-frame.”

  Leo’s recent project was putting up a granary, the Committee having decided that living from crop to crop was too stressful and risky. He designed a tall pyramid structure, and they were all working to get it built. The kids, all very familiar with Malden’s well-read copy of the book “Native American Indians of Canada”, were already calling it the Tee-Pee.

  “Guess we’re stronger at pulling than we thought.”

  “Cheap metal.”

  Morreign leaned against the rough slab wall, taking her weight off her ruined hip. She had pondered and re-pondered whether to broach this subject. She didn’t want to unnecessarily worry people, and she didn’t want to expend resources or energy needlessly. Still, the dream of the horde of men storming the resort stuck with her, itching the back of her mind.

  “Look, I want to run something by you but don’t want it to become a whole big thing.”

  Even after ten years of hardship, Leo could still break out his boyish grin. “I’m flattered but think I’m too tired to be starting in on an affair with my brother’s wife this late in life.”

  She grinned back, “My hip couldn’t handle it anyway. No, I was wondering, you ever think of what’d we do if we were attacked?”

  Leo looked at her quizzically, trying to figure out where this was coming from. He asked, “That Marge woman tell you something? Something going on out there in the world?”

  Raising her hands, worried that bringing this up might have been a mistake, she quickly answered, “No, no, nothing like that, only the silly worries of an old lady. The thought dug itself into my head one night when I couldn’t sleep, and now I can’t get it out.”

  Leo leaned his haunches against the workbench. “Figured we all sort of silently agreed not to think about attacks as there wasn’t much we could do about it, especially with, you know, freezing to death being a real and immediate threat. Then, after we got by for so long with nothing happening, we seemed to have decided it would never happen, that there wasn’t anyone like that left out there, at least no one close enough to matter.”

  “Right, I know, and I don’t think it’ll happen, not really. But with things getting more established here, I guess I need something new to worry about. Or maybe it’s the kids going missing. Either way, humour me, what do you think?”

  Leo picked up a wrench and fidgeted with it as he answered, “Ok, I’ll humour y
ou, but I doubt you’ll like it. Honestly, I don’t know there’s anything we could do, practically speaking. A handful of armed, determine men decide they want to come and take this place, not sure we could stop them. We’d run out of good arrows very fast. Only place we could hold up is the Lodge, and they’d be able to smoke us outta there in a couple minutes. Frankly, best chance we’d have is to run for the hills.”

  Not a surprise as Morreign had come to the same conclusion. “Yeah, that’s about where I got to too. Any thoughts on what we could do to better prepare?”

  “Prepare for something we don’t think’ll happen?”

  “We’re just talking.”

  He shrugged his massive shoulders. “I mean, if we wanted to devote a bunch of time and effort we could build a wall using logs, but it’d be a helluva a project, and I doubt that it would do much but slow attackers down. Or, maybe a watchtower type thing, up in a tree perhaps, might help to give us some warning, but could also signals we are here. And, I suppose we could set up traps, create some sort of rudimentary minefield, but they’d more likely catch one of the kids rather than bad guys.”

  Walls of logs. Men up in tree houses. Bear traps littering the woods. All ridiculous. Not sure what she was thinking, Morreign pushed herself up from the wall. “Right, I guess we better keep hoping the Bombs did in all the assholes who might want to come for us.”

  Leo picked the bent pulley back up, as he said, “Yeah, or at least they’re too busy trying not to starve to come hunting for us.”

  “Alright, thanks. Oh, and let’s keep this talk to ourselves. No need to add to people’s worries.”

  “Sure.”

  As she walked back to her cabin, Morreign did not feel any better, and she startled when two of the kids tumbled out from between two trees, laughing as they chased one another amongst the shadows, engaged in some complicated game of tag. Stopping her walk as they darted past, she scanned the looming pines, deep and imposing.

  Her instincts poked at the back of her mind and it reminded her of back before the Bombs, when she noticed worried looks on people’s faces around the office and every secret meeting made her more certain something was coming, something to be afraid of. Why would this new, seemingly foolish, worry not leave her? What was out there?

  . . .

  The plan worked. Maybe worked too well actually. Harrison and two of his men had flushed Jacob out before he could go to sleep, got him moving again, moving fast. Stumbling and falling through the darkness, the terror-filled idiot made it to the overgrown roadway they were herding him towards and then they managed to turn him north so he could follow the easier route. However, he must’ve been more frightened than Harrison thought as he continued to clumsily run along for hours after the men called out to each about how they were giving up on chasing him.

  Now, as they caught back up to him, Harrison saw the kid laying in a heap. The fool had run himself to the point of collapse. He turned to his men and quietly said, “Ok, keep eyes on him. Let him go at his own pace from here for a while.”

  He turned to go, thinking he best get back to the main group or a fight would probably break out over the last pancake. But one of the men tentatively said, “Uh, boss?”

  This was JR, an army mechanic who stumbled into Thule about a year after the Bombs. Not much of a fighter but he carried his own weight, had been good with engines which as helpful when they had usable gas to burn, and the others seemed to like him. Harrison said, “Yeah?”

  “Well, I was thinking and, you know, this kid’s soft as cotton, don’t think he’s used to being out here like this.”

  At least he could agree with that point. Harrison prompted, “And?”

  “I think he might do better if he had a friend.”

  Irving, the other scout, put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder, saying, “C’mon JR, let’s find a good spot in the cover to wait for this guy to wake up like we was told to.”

  Obviously, Irving wanted to protect his comrade from Harrison’s wrath over the apparently silly notion. But, maybe the idea had merit. Jacob did not know all of the Bankers, he only met those on Hale’s patrol and the Vikings. One person, no rifle, being all friendly, pretending to be a solo hunter merely headed the same way, not asking any questions, that might not scare the kid too much. Remembering their impressive resistance in the apartment, Harrison was sure Jacob would not disclose where he was going, but he might accept some short-term company. And that company could help him make his way a little quicker.

  Harrison called over, “Hold up JR.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  JULY 15, 2046

  DAY THREE THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED AND NINETY-FIVE

  The chittering chatter of a squirrel, not quite right but close. Taco signaling from off to her left. The buck was coming her way. Kinma drew the bow, enjoying the familiar, minor strain in her shoulder as she tried to calm her breathing against the rush of adrenaline. They had been surviving off the minimal fare they could find while Milo rushed them through the woods, a deer would be a huge improvement and, when they spotted the tracks, they could not resist.

  Crouched behind some deadfall, she watched the animal cautiously step through a clump of willows. Thin but a decent enough size. She forced herself to wait. Let it get close. Let it turn. Let its neck get sideways to her. She loosed.

  At the last moment, the skittish animal started, hopping slightly. The arrow missed the neck and buried into its shoulder. Jumping into the air, it bolted into the underbrush, crashing through branches, disappearing into the foliage like a fish tossed back into the water.

  Hurrying after it, Kinma called out, “He’s running. North, straight north.”

  She thought she heard Milo cursing to her right and saw the flash of Taco’s blue jacket to her left as she ran, ignoring the pine branches scratching her face. Pushing through some willows, she stepped into a narrow clearing and spotted the wounded animal limping in the tall grass. Not a great angle but she fired again anyway, burying another shaft in the deer’s rump.

  It lurched forward, making it to the trees before she could notch another arrow, but Kinma felt certain it would not make it far now. She ran after, now wanting to put the buck down to end its suffering.

  She leaped past some poplar trees and found the deer lying in a tumbled heap in a muddy ditch. However, she barely noticed the animal because, right there, sitting on a log, his ass hanging out, his breeches around his ankles, was Bono.

  For a strange moment, they each simply stared at the other. He was a Banker, and he was very loyal to Harrison. He was a problem. But her mind could not seem to completely comprehend what the situation meant or how to handle it. Bono appeared to assess the matter quicker as he bolted off the log, yanking at his pants as he tried to rush away.

  But, before he made it a half dozen stumbling steps, Taco flew out from the trees, a flash of blue across the green. He lowered his shoulder and caught Bono in the chest with a perfect tackle. The Banker, already off-balance, crashed into the pines as Milo swooped in, grabbing Bono by the collar of his coat and hurling him to the ground, jumping on Bono before he could figure out which way was up and covering his mouth as he tried to scream out for help. He twisted and bucked, but Milo held strong until Taco pressed his knife point against Bono’s neck. He instantly stopped struggling and looked at them with bulging eyes.

  Milo sounded calm despite his heavy breathing as he said, “Ok Bono, not a sound or it’ll go bad. We understand each other?”

  Their captive nodded, and Milo took his hands from his mouth. Bono’s dry, colorless lips parted, and Kinma worried he might yell out regardless of the threat, but Taco pressed harder, a drop of blood trickled out from his cheek, and Bono shut his mouth. Without a wor
d, they got Bono on to his feet.

  . . .

  It didn’t matter. Jacob decided it didn’t matter. He thought the voices, the men in the woods, must be far off by now. Regardless, it didn’t matter. Now he needed to rest. Needed to stop.

  No way he would risk a fire now and he was too tired to build one anyhow, so Jacob crawled in under a pine tree, wrapping himself around the trunk, his blankets left behind when he ran. He wanted to think of Louisa, wanted to escape all the hunger, cold, fear and fatigue with memories, but all he could do was strain to hear if anyone was coming. He collapsed after running from the unseen men, his body simply giving up but, after catching his breath, he managed to get up and started moving again and, with thoughts of dying of thirst at the end of a chain pushing him or another endless night of torture in a strange room, he hadn’t stopped until now.

  Despite the immense fatigue, he could not sleep, he could only lie on the dry pine needles and worry over every minor noise, pleading it was nothing but the breeze.

  “Hello?”

  For a moment, Jacob wondered if he had spoken to himself. He did not think so.

  “Hello? You ok in there?”

  Not Jacob speaking to himself. All of him wanted to run, wanted to roll out from under the tree and bolt but his body no longer had the energy to respond to fresh influxes of terror. When he tried to order his muscles to move they simply refused. He could only hang onto the pine trunk, waiting for some new horror to grab onto his ankles and pull him out.

  “Alright, your choice, but I’m going to set up camp right here. Got dried corn meal and half a porcupine left, none of it much good but got enough to share.”