The light resistance in the foothills cheered the Academy men into premature confidence. They quietly bantered about the natives and their toy weapons trembling in fear on the mountain tops. The levity was short-lived, however. As they climbed the steeper inclines, the Brothers’ main defensive force engaged. Over time, the mountain folk had amassed an impressive arsenal of well-maintained rifles from northern traders, captured soldiers, and others. The Brothers fired from their network of dugout trenches and tunnels. The surprised and disconcerted Academy soldiers tried to shoot back but couldn’t even see the enemy at first. And once they zeroed in on an enemy’s positions, they’d unleash a wasteful volley of firepower. If the shooters in the trenches were overpowered, they merely escaped into the tunnels. Academy men who tried following into the labyrinths found themselves caught in traps, impaled on beds of wooden spikes, or crushed by boulders. The invaders slogged up the hills, losing men by the dozens. They would gain a hundred feet only to have to fall back again. The terrain was rugged, and the defenders dogged. At noontime, the attackers had only made it a tenth of the way up the mountain and had lost 200 men.
The queen’s men took a new tack. Their experience fighting in open fields was not translating here in the thickly wooded mountains. So instead of going up in large, compact groups, they spread out. This improved their ability to see where the shooters were and suppress them more quickly. They made faster headway up the mountain but still with heavy losses.
John, Cecil and Jamed waited, manning the slope to the east of the initial path of ascent. They hadn’t seen any fighting that morning, but as the afternoon wore on, and the invaders were blocked elsewhere, they moved around the mountain to try their luck in this area. The invaders didn’t notice the thin black ropes of woven hair stretched low across the forest floor. Tripping them set off black powder explosives that shot shrapnel in their direction. The woods soon reverberated with the sound of these traps and the screams of wounded Academy soldiers. This sent the soldiers below into a frenzy. They charged up the mountain, almost crazed with desperation and rage. The Brothers in their protective trenches unleashed a barrage of rounds into the charging madmen. The front line of Academy men were ripped to shreds under the assault. This broke their line, as they fell over the bodies of their comrades as they turned and retreated back down the hill. The Brothers gave chase, inflicting more causalities. They didn’t break off until reaching the foothills, not wanting to overextend. The queen’s men fled back to Tenochtitlan. They left their wounded behind. Of the thousand-man force sent to crush the Brothers only 300 returned to their queen.
Cheers erupted echoed throughout the mountains. No one had given thought, though, on what to do with the wounded Academy men.
Chapter 30
Her chin resting on the back of her hand, Sara listened silently and intently to the man in front of her. He had a long gash over his eye, and dried blood caked his face. He had limped into her chambers within the temple and explained what had happened in the mountains. He showed her, on a map, how the battle had progressed. He stated the losses. She didn’t blink. He explained how they’d lost an additional sixty men on the return journey to a walker herd. She didn’t say a word but was screaming on the inside. She thanked the man and sent him away, then called for General Page.
She remained silent while she waited. Only her guards were in the chambers with her. Their faces never changed expression even though they heard everything that transpired. It was not lost on them that they were a long way from home and outnumbered by the citizens of Tenochtitlan. Once word of this spread throughout the city, which it invariably would, the locals would be emboldened. It was on the mind of every Academy soldier.
Finally Sara stood and looked out the window of the chamber. Its stained glass had long since been broken, and a cool breeze blew in her face. The weather was so nice here, she thought. The sewage smell took some getting used to, though, but it was still better than zombies.
General Page’s arrival interrupted her reflections. She calmly asked him to sit down. She stared at him for a moment, opened her mouth to speak, then stopped again, as if reconsidering what she had been about to say. She returned to the window, her movements stiff. “General, I believe these rebels in the mountains pose an existential threat. Am I mistaken?”
“No ma’am, I wholly agree,” he replied quickly.
“Then the obvious conclusion is that they must be destroyed.”
“And we would have, except–”
“General, I didn’t call you here to reprimand you,” she snapped, then paused to master her temper. “I know I have been distracted for quite some time. I apologize. I am fully present again. I had…some things to consider.” She turned from the window to face him. “There has been some confusion about what we are trying to accomplish. That is my fault.” She walked to her chair and sat down again.
“I think we all–”
“No, it is my doing. I have been chasing a dream. I saw a better life of safety and security for myself, for all of us, really, and I fought to acquire it. We were going to the coast. Halfway there, I changed course, and we came here, under the impression it would never be secure at the coast while this capitol still existed. That premise is debatable but probably true. So here I am, queen of a city I’d never even heard of, sending armies into the mountains to take them as well, but still miles from the ocean. I know it looks like I’ve lost focus, gotten distracted. But if I am honest with myself…” She stopped and looked at Page intently. “…If I am honest with myself, really, I want it all.”
Page blinked. “Ma’am?”
“You see, we all are taught a certain ethic by our parents. My father’s goal was to instill thankfulness for what we already had. He only fought to protect what he’d been given. He didn’t like expressions of dissatisfaction with the way things were. This is why he improved nothing. My grandfather, on the other hand, was never satisfied with the status quo. He always wanted to improve, expand, grow his operation. That made him successful.”
“He certainly was,” Page agreed sincerely.
“So when I am honest with myself, I know that I want to control all the territory I possibly can. Not because I am necessarily greedy, but because this is the legacy my grandfather gave me. He captured Colorado Springs from the undead and made it a place of hope for people. Everything my father taught me screams that I shouldn’t want to be in control, I shouldn’t want to expand. But, this is what my heart truly wants.”
Page looked at Sara, unsure of how to respond.
“So, the question of whether to capture a coastal area or the capitol—the answer is simple. Both. Do we rebuild an expeditionary army or hunker down and defend ourselves against the outside world?”
“Both,” Page interjected. He was leaning in, beginning to catch the vision.
“Yes. I have been given an opportunity to build something truly great. We will decide the fate of the continent, and we will build an empire that touches all corners of it. There is no one to stop us. Once people see the grandeur of it—no one will want to stop us.”
“It is a brilliant vision, Miss Academy,” General Page glowed.
“Please, call me Sara.”
Chapter 31—May 101 A.Z.
The people in the mountains prepared for a second attack, but it never came.
Still, they stockpiled weapons and food and repaired defenses.
The injured prisoners of war had received medical treatment, but most were beyond help. Only ninety-eight captives were left. No one could agree what should be done with them. Some argued they should be executed, others said put to work, others thought they should simply be let go. They all agreed it was an unprecedented and exceedingly important decision. Keeping them as slaves was dangerous because they would have to be constantly monitored. Killing them was considered a poor precedent and a dirtying of their moral high ground. And letting them go was unthinkable because these prisoners had seen and heard too much.
A
s the argument continued over days and weeks, the prisoners languished in wooden cages, John began to feel the north calling him. He tried to brush it aside. Aaron is fine, these people needed my help more. He would start getting his things together, only to stop and unpack. One night, after another round of this conflicted episode, he flung his things to the ground and threw his hands up. “What do I do?” he pleaded aloud. The truth was, he was afraid to see Aaron. John couldn’t face the shame waiting for him. He’d failed. Both Martha and Mark were dead. He was a failure.
John shook his head. “Get over it, John,” he reprimanded himself sharply. It was time to go back and that was all there was to it. He decided to start with a smaller, more practical step—sitting down with the Brothers’ maps to chart a path.
The next morning, he surreptitiously got maps from Cesar, along with permission to be excused from afternoon chores. After the midday meal, he hurried to his hut to plan. Shouts from the scouts disrupted the usual quiet bustle of the village. Two spies had been captured. At first it made his adrenaline surge, but then he reassured himself that such occurrences were expected. The sooner he left, the better. No point in getting further entangled.
“Where are you going?”
John jumped.
It was Lee standing in his doorway with arms folded.
“You startled me,” John replied.
“Feeling guilty?” Lee asked, a slight sharpness in her tone.
John sighed. He rubbed his eyes. Finally he looked at her. “Yes. I’ll feel guilty if I stay and guilty if I go. I’ll regret it either way.”
“Your son won’t regret it when you find him,” Lee said, softening her voice. There was no point in giving John a hard time. It wouldn’t make him love her. It wouldn’t make him forget his wife.
“I don’t even know if he’s still alive,” John muttered.
She could see the frustration and anger in his eyes. She’d seen it before. It was the look of a man who hated himself. “It’s true. You don’t.”
“I miss him.” He looked back down to his meager possessions. “He’s a good kid.”
“I’d like to meet him someday,” Lee said.
“Yeah…that would…” John was interrupted by more, louder shouts. The two spies were being dragged into camp. John tried to finish the statement but more shouting interrupted him. The spies were being taken to the cages with the other Academy captives. Apparently they weren’t coming easy. One of them was bellowing belligerently, “Get your hands off me! I’m a guest!”
John recognized the voice. He gasped, then jumped up and stormed out of his tent, leaving Lee behind. The two spies were none other than Carlos and Hog!
“John!” Hog shouted. “John! Oh God, there he is! For the love, John, tell them we’re the good guys!” He struggled for all he was worth against the restraining arms of two lookouts.
Laughing, incredulous, John bounded over to catch the bear of a man up in a mighty hug. After a lot of hooting, hugging, and back slapping, they calmed down enough to talk. “What on earth are you doing here?” John asked, still completely amazed.
“We’ll tell you all about that by and by, but say, John, can you get some fellas some food around here? We’ve been walking for days with nothing but avocados for sustenance. Go get your boy and let’s eat! Where’s Mark?”
The smile fell from John’s face. He shook his head. Lee stood next to him and put her hand in his. Hog knew the look. “Bitten,” John replied quietly.
“John, no…” Hog started.
“We got caught up in a herd, had to fight our way through. I got out. Mark didn’t.”
Carlos and Hog were stunned. The three old friends stood together in painful silence for a few seconds. Carlos cleared his throat to speak. John braced himself for the questions. He dreaded them, but part of him also ached for a chance to pour it all out, to mourn with people who had known and loved his son, perhaps find absolution for some of his guilt. The arrival of the other Martyrs interrupted the moment, however. Word had spread through the village that friends of John’s had come.
The Martyrs introduced themselves, as John’s ability to speak failed him. Carlos warily shook hands with all of them. After they finished introductions, they sat down by John’s tent to an elaborate feast of tomato flavored chicken with seasoned beans and cornmeal. Both men were starving from the long journey and had seconds and thirds.
Hog reclined and gravely explained the entire story of how they had gotten separated from John and Mark.
“At the river we looked for you but had to give up on account of the herd. We got lost and stupidly followed the most worn trails. This led us right into trouble. Red Mouths. Bad guys. Real bad guys. Bad guys doing bad thing.”
Once free from them, they pushed on toward Tenochtitlan as fast as they could to get away from the herd. Once the queen took over, though, they knew they had to make their escape. The herd had dissipated, and the queen couldn’t prevent anyone from leaving, yet. They speculated that they must have left only a short while after John had. They’d heard of the tall, bearded white Martyr from the north, and realized it had to be John. The queen had posted maps all over the city of where these Martyrs were hiding in the mountains.
“Maps?” one of the listening Brothers interjected, his voice shaky.
“Yes, and a reward to anyone who could provide valuable information. It made finding you easy, as it was well known in the city that the Martyrs had joined the Brothers.” John listened until Hog suddenly fell silent at the implication. If they’d been able to find John, anyone could.
“That herd is still out there.,” Hog said. “It’s hung up in the valleys, but it won’t take much for it to swing around and come this way. Sure, a lot of them won’t come up here, but plenty will. We need to leave this place, John. Anyone else is welcome to come with us.”
The Martyrs looked at one another. John knew this was no accident, Hog and Carlos showing up just as he was preparing to leave.
“I’m going with you.”
“What?” Tock exclaimed. The other were surprised, too, with the exception of Lee.
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since the battle. As much as I want to stay here, I need to make sure my son is okay. It’s time for me to go home.”
***
The plan was to leave the next morning. After assembling his few possessions—a hatchet, a water bladder, and a small sack of food—there was nothing left to do but make his farewells. John hated goodbyes. He would have preferred to slink off in the night, but Carlos reprimanded him when he suggested it. John surrendered in agreement but had no idea what to say. In the end, though, he managed to get a quality moment with everyone. He started with Cesar, thanking him for everything, then worked his way through his friends in the village, then one at a time, the Martyrs.
“Goodbye, Tock.”
“Hmmm. Yeah, Goodbye.” Tock grumbled.
John moved on to the next person.
“I guess I wish him well. Tall, bearded pasty… Dang, why does Beard gotta go?” Tock lamented.
Lee was the last person he said goodbye to. Partly he saved it for last, partly he was putting it off. It was obvious that his leaving was deeply painful to her. He had considered asking her to come but…afraid to probe himself too deeply, the best way he could think of it was it was simpler if she didn’t. Finally, though, there was no avoiding it. He went to her tent and softly called her name. Without coming to the entrance, she whispered for him to come in.
She had been dreading this moment, also. When Hog had issued the open invitation, she had considered going but with no pledge of a bond beyond friendship between her and John, it didn’t seem right. His mission wasn’t really hers, his home wasn’t really hers, he wasn’t really hers. There was always a third person whenever they were together—His deceased wife. John wasn’t ready to love again. He couldn’t believe anyone could love him, so strong was his anger against himself. She had frequently told him it wasn’t his fault for Mar
tha and Mark, but he didn’t believe it. Hopefully, eventually he would. She would just have to accept that she probably wouldn’t be in the picture when that happened.
They stood there awkwardly for a few seconds. When the silence started to get unbearable, she gave him a hug. He held her for a long moment, then she pulled away and gave him a kiss on the cheek. As brightly as she could, she said, “Take care of yourself, John.”
“You, too,” he replied gently. Then he slipped back into the darkness.
Many of the mountain people, including the other Martyrs, gathered in the cold dawn to say goodbye. They had all decided to stay. They had a place and a purpose here in the mountains. And some of them were experiencing a sense of family for the first time in their lives. It tore at John to leave them, to break up their team, but there was no real choice. He had to get back. He had a feeling Aaron was in trouble.
The people were silent, as the three men left. Lee fought the urge to cry. Looking over the faces of his friends and allies, John felt his heart swell with joy. The road ahead would be hard enough. It meant the world to him to feel he had their support in this next mission.
“I wish I’d hugged him,” Tock noted.
John, Carlos and Hog trekked cautiously down the mountain, as they joked about walker carts, caging up John and Carlos, and John’s love life. They kept an eye out for walkers and enemies, occasionally stopping to survey the woods around them. It was like old times, and John was glad to be back with them.
Three hours later, after the steep descent, they reached the trail. John’s knees were sore, and he tried not to think about all the miles yet to go. He took a break and studied the way the trail stretched off into the distance behind the trees blowing in the gentle breeze. The weather was warm and pleasant. John’s heart began to rise—this was the beginning of something good.
100 A.Z. (Book 2): Tenochtitlan Page 21