Storm clouds, p.2
Storm Clouds, page 2
After a long pause, curiosity and the empathy that hadn’t quite been eroded from his character yet won over reluctance.
“Well, how can I say no to that?”
Luke grinned.
“Excellent dude, thank you. We’ll be out of your hair at first light.”
“One thing though… don’t call me dude.”
“Haha, you got it.”
Two hours later they were sitting alone in front of the subdued campfire. Luke’s fellow travelers were huddled together in bedrolls and sleeping bags at the base of a big old oak tree a few yards back from the fire.
Ragland took a long sip of whiskey from his tin cup as old Reliable snorted behind him.
“So how did you come to be together?” he asked, gesturing to the rest of the group. “You seem a little different to them. Not as…”
“Beaten down?”
“Yeah, for want of a better phrase.”
“I recruited them,” said Luke, draining his cup and staring into the flames.
“Recruited?”
“Yeah. It’s a term we use for gathering refugees.”
The Drifter regarded him, his eyes dangerous.
“For what purpose?”
Sensing the change in tone, Luke looked up at him.
“Oh, nothing sinister. I’m not a slaver.” Luke knew of the slavers operating in New York and Vermont but hadn’t run across any in all his travels through New Hampshire. “I’m from Manchester. We are trying to repopulate. So, our team, Messengers, travel around and tell people of the cities, Manchester, Concord and Albany. We explain how things are. You know about the electricity and running water and medicine, and we try to recruit them. Anyway, when we’ve gathered enough on a mission, we return with them.”
“Ahh, I’ve heard of the Cities. I planned to make my way down there for a look one day.”
“Well, cities is a loose term, I guess. They weren’t that big before the fall, but they are a damns sight better than how some of these survivors are living, so it’s pretty easy to find willing people.”
“So, you’re heading west. Not ready to return yet?”
“I have one more town to check. Greenfield. About another day's walk west.”
Ragland nodded and held a hand up to reject the offer of more whiskey. It had been a while and the liquor had somewhat gone to his head. He could tell from the slight slur of Luke’s speech that he was also feeling the effects.
“Good call,” said Luke, putting the lid back on the one-third empty bottle. It dawned on him then that he’d done most of the talking. “So, you’re just drifting around, you say?”
“Yeah,” said Ragland without elaborating.
“No troubles?”
“Oh plenty.”
Luke laughed.
“You like to keep your cards close, huh?”
Ragland shrugged.
“If I start my story, it won’t be over until sundown tomorrow.” He stood up and stretched. “Speaking of tomorrow, I reckon its time I hit the hay and get there all the sooner.”
“Another good call. Can I ask one question, though?”
“Well, you can ask…”
Luke laughed again.
“What did you do in the Before Times? You must have been, what, twenty-five or so?”
“Twenty-four. I was an associate attorney. I’d just finished my degree and was about to start with a firm when it hit the fan.”
Luke nodded.
“I wouldn’t have picked it,” said Luke, standing up.
The other man chuckled. “No, I daresay that Joshua Ragland from back then wouldn’t recognize the current model either.”
Luke grinned and held out his hand again.
“Thanks for the hospitality and the fireside chat.”
“Welcome, thanks for the whiskey.”
“By the way. If you've got nowhere else to go, you're welcome to join us on the walk to the next town. We could use another hand, and we've got enough food to share.”
Ragland shook his head with a faint smile.
“I appreciate the offer, but old Reliable and I are headed in a different direction. Got some business to attend to,” he lied smoothly.
Luke nodded.
“Alright. We'll camp here for the night and head out at dawn. If you change your mind, we won't turn you away.”
“I'll keep that in mind.”
With a nod of mutual respect, the two men went to opposite sides of the fire, each finding a spot to bed down for the night.
Ragland found sleep evasive, his head buzzing from the alcohol he’d imbibed and senses alert to any sound or movement around him. He eventually fell asleep sometime in the wee hours, knowing he’d pay the price for lack of sleep in the morning.
When dawn broke, he was surprised and alarmed to find the camp empty. Luke and his group of refugees had disappeared.
Surprised because he expected to rise before everyone else, except maybe Luke. Alarmed because he’d slept through their departure.
“Well, it’s back on the wagon for you Ragland,” he growled to himself as he saddled Reliable and packed up his belongings before spreading the ashes of the fire with his boot.
From the height of the sun in the sky, he guessed it to be about nine a.m., and the day was already hot. He climbed into the saddle.
“Might be time for a beach vacation, Reliable, what do you think?”
As he resumed his journey in an easterly direction, he found himself grateful for the unexpected encounter with Luke the Messenger. It served as a reminder that the road ahead was best traveled with caution but also with opportunities to connect... opportunities he’d perhaps missed with his siege mentality.
*
Dorr's Pond lay before them, its tranquil waters shimmering under the midday sun, inviting the children to embrace the respite from the sweltering heat. Their laughter filled the air as they splashed and played, their carefree spirits unburdened by the weight of the world's troubles.
Little did they realize, though, that trouble was about to come calling.
As the children frolicked in the water, Peace, ever the responsible one, volunteered to set up the picnic. She began unpacking the provisions they had brought, carefully arranging the sandwiches and fruits on a blanket spread under the shade of a towering tree.
Erin, sensing the chance for some playful teasing about the shape in the window, sidled up to Blake.
“You know what they say about boys who see things that aren't there, right?”
Blake rolled his eyes, unamused, but still managed a retort.
“Yeah, I also know what they say about girls who scream at butterflies.”
Erin grinned, but before she could retaliate, Samuel interjected.
“Enough, you two. Let's just enjoy the day.”
The friendly chat continued amongst the teenagers and younger kids as they settled into their picnic, savoring the taste of summer and the simple pleasures it brought. Peace smiled at the camaraderie; her heart warmed by the bond she shared with these friends who had become like family.
“Your mom makes kickass sandwiches,” said Vincent. He was a little on the heavier side and clearly enjoyed his food.
As his mother had requested, Samuel made them wait a half hour before going back into the water, ignoring the complaints of the younger kids. The hours slipped by quickly, and as the shadows began to stretch across the clearing and the pond, Peace gave them all a twenty-minute warning.
“I’ll pack up the lunch mess,” she said, heading to shore and picking up a towel to shake the breadcrumbs off it.
Facing the water, she didn’t see the three dark figures slowly emerge from the trees, the biggest of them moving with calculated confidence as he gestured to his comrades to spread out.
Preoccupied, the kids in the water didn’t notice the armed men either. In fact, no one noticed until Peace was grabbed from behind by the scar-faced man, his arm locked around her neck and a long-bladed knife pressed against her throat as she squeaked in surprise.
Erin’s high-pitched scream echoed across the water and off the trees. Everyone in the pond froze and slowly turned, their faces etched with shock.
“I want you all out of the water,” the man with the knife at Peace’s throat commanded.
No one moved.
“Now!” he roared, and lifted Peace off the ground so that her legs kicked out trying to find purchase. “Or I slit her throat open.”
Cade was the first to recover from the shock.
“Come on! Let’s do what he says,” he called, and began wading towards the shore.
Erin was whimpering and everyone except Cade and Samuel were wide eyed with fear and shock. Both of the older boys’ eyes sparked with anger.
The leader stayed in place with Peace at his mercy as the other two men came forward with rifles pointed at the group.
“Turn around and face the water.”
Peace remained calm, despite the knife at her throat. She glanced at her friends, her eyes conveying a silent plea to comply. The fear in her eyes was evident, but so was her determination not to let her captor sense it.
The younger kids and Vincent obeyed immediately, and when Samuel nodded to Cade, they complied as well.
“Good,” said the leader, releasing Peace and stepping back. He slid his knife into his boot and pulled out a pistol and gestured to the girl, who was rubbing her throat.
“Now, you hand them their towels and clothes. You’re all going to get dressed and put your shoes on. No funny business or I shoot that little girl on the end through the head.”
Erin bowed her head and began to weep again.
“You hurt anyone, and you’ll regret it,” Max grated, looking over his shoulder at the man with the scar.
“Oh, is that right?”
The leader stomped over to Erin and put the muzzle of his pistol hard against the back of her head.
“No! Don’t hurt her!” yelled Max, holding up a placating hand as the others in their group gasped in shock. “Sorry! I’m sorry, okay?”
The leader held the gun where it was, as Erin’s weeping became wailing, daring the boy to say more. After a few seconds, when it was clear he’d learned his lesson, he pulled the gun away and went back to where Peace was gathering up towels and clothes.
Within a few minutes they had all pulled clothes on over their wet swimmers.
“Now everyone put your hands behind your back. You get in line and do it too Missy.” Peace nodded and moved across to stand between Cade and Max and put her hands behind her back. “Tie ‘em!”
The two accomplices quickly and efficiently moved along the line, zip tying the hands of each of their captives.
“Okay kiddies. We’re going on a road trip. If you’re good, you’ll get there in one piece. If not… well, let’s just say, you don’t want to find out what happens if you don’t. Caleb, you lead ‘em out. Chris, you bring up the rear.”
“Aren’t we gonna try for more?” asked Caleb quietly as they formed up.
“Nope. We hit the motherload. Seven kids are worth at least twelve adults and as long as we get them there by sundown Friday, this’ll do nicely. Get moving.” Caleb was making his way to the front when the kid who had been mouthing off burst out of the line and ran for the trees.
“Shit! Chris, get him!”
Chris was by far the fastest of the three slavers and was after the kid in an instant. The little bastard was fast though and beat him into the trees.
“Go Max!” yelled Cade.
The big man clubbed him hard over the ear with an open hand and he fell to the ground, suddenly finding the boot of the leader pressed hard down on his face.
“If he gets away, you’re the first sacrifice son.”
Chapter 2
Ragland's senses were keenly attuned to the world around him despite the beautiful day, and the faint sound of a male voice carried on the breeze caused the hackles on his neck to rise. Twenty minutes before, he had led Reliable down off the road and through a small thicket of trees to drink from a stream. He’d taken off her saddle and given her a brief rubdown, before letting her graze on the lush grass beside the stream. Tired from his late night, he took the opportunity to rest against a tree with his hands behind his head, closing his eyes in the midday sun.
Now on full alert, he circled the tree he had leaned against, and staying low moved through the scrub until he had an unimpeded view of the road. As the seconds passed, he discerned more voices. Male voices. A shadow amongst other shadows, he peered intently as the owners of the voices came over the rise.
Ragland counted seven of them. All of them were armed with handheld weapons, clubs and axes and the like, and one of them, the shortest, had a rifle slung over his shoulder. They were all lean and weathered, with hardened faces that told Ragland they were bad news for anyone they came across.
He didn’t know if they had a destination, but they moved with a sense of purpose even as they joked amongst themselves.
“How far ahead do you think they are, Chief?” asked the shortest member of the gang.
Ragland watched. Short maybe, but he had a stout physique, and his muscular arms were impressive. No doubt he could swing the club he held loosely in his hand very effectively. He appeared to be the leader.
His question was addressed to the one that walked ahead of the others, a bow over his shoulder. The man, with a distinctive long ponytail, stopped and look intently at the ground at the edge of the road then around at the surroundings.
Ragland held his breath as the tracker’s gaze scanned in his direction and stopped. The seconds seemed to stretch for minutes before it moved on.
“I’d say half a day if they camped the whole night. Maybe longer if they moved through the night, but I doubt they did with kids in the group. There are other tracks coming this way. A man on foot and a horse. They went that way.” The man pointed directly at the trees where Ragland hid. “Should we investigate?”
Ragland’s hand went to the pistol on his hip.
“No, I don’t want to waste any time. We focus on the ones we’re hunting. Let’s pick up the pace, I want to catch them by sundown.”
“Think they’ll be any trouble, Boss?” asked the biggest of them as they began to move on. He was a shaved headed man with what looked like a samurai sword at his hip. The spiderweb tattoo that adorned the skin of his head added to his sense of menace. Even so, he looked less a threat than the short guy.
“The big guy with the hook maybe, but once he’s out of the way,” he reached up and patted the stock of his rifle, “we’re good.”
Ragland watched them move off, staying still until they’d disappeared. He wore a frown as he stood up, brushing away the leaves that clung to his jeans, and began walking back through the thicket.
The clearing next to the stream was empty when he emerged from the cool shadows.
“Reliable?”
He looked this way and that but there was no sign of the chestnut horse. Her tracks disappeared into the shallow stream and appeared again on the other side.
“Reliable my ass,” he said under his breath and pulled off his boots before negotiating the slippery rocks to the other side. He searched for ten minutes with no luck.
The horse was nowhere to be seen.
“Ahh well. Happy travels, friend,” he growled, before crossing back to the other side.
He felt sad as he put his boots back on and picked up his backpack, leaving the saddle where he’d dropped it before walking back out onto the road. He’d gotten used to the company of the horse and if he’d had more time, he would have continued the search.
Alas, his conscience got the better of him. He didn’t know if they were slavers or just a gang of miscreants out for blood, but he knew he couldn’t just leave the gang to ambush Luke and his people.
“Goddamned humans!” he growled, before jogging in the direction the gang had taken.
*
Max drew breath in big heaving sobs as he scrambled through the forest, branches and leaves whipping his face. The crashing through the undergrowth behind him was getting louder and with every yard, his inevitable capture seemed closer.
Just as the harsh breathing of the slaver closed in on him, he saw a glimpse of Hookset Street through the gaps in the trees. He put on a burst of speed but found himself lifted off his feet as the slaver grabbed the collar of his prized denim jacket and pulled him down.
Max Race crashed heavily to the forest floor, the wind knocked out of him, as the youngest slaver stood bent over him, hands on knees, sucking in deep breaths.
“You’re – a – fast – little – fucker…” he heaved.
Lungs still burning, Max scrambled to his hands and knees ready to make another escape, but the slaver’s hand latched onto his upper arm, and he pulled him to his feet and gave him a violent shake.
“No! We’re done, boy. Come on and don’t try anything stupid again or Mason will shoot someone.”
From the tone of the slaver’s voice, Max gleaned that he was afraid of the one called Mason and believed his words weren’t just rhetoric.
Max nodded and allowed himself to be directed back the way they had come.
“Well,” said Mason, when they emerged from the trees. He pushed his boot down on Cade’s face one more time for good measure before letting him up. “You just dodged a bullet my friend.”
He crossed over to Chris and Max with a smile on his face.
Chris grinned uncertainly, but his mouth dropped open when Mason punched the young boy in the nose. The blow knocked Max onto his backside with blood gushing down over his mouth and chin as his friends gasped in shock. The leader of the slavers wasn’t done. He picked the eleven-year-old up by the lapels of his jacket and shook him violently before bodily lifting him from the ground and putting his face in Max’s.
“You try shit like that again and I murder a little girl,” he grated. “Understand?”
Max nodded, his face pale with shock. The big man flung him to the ground. Isaac and Indigo’s son lay still, the remnants of his blood-soaked jacket hanging off him.
Peace ran over to her friend and helped him up, placing a damp towel against his nose. She shot the leader a baleful look before telling Max to put his chin up and pinch his nose.
