365 Days At War

by Nancy Isaak

  “It’s just a flare gun,” she sniffed, not impressed.

  “But if we’re lucky,” I told her, grinning, “a flare gun that just might win us this war.”

  * * * *

  Two minutes later, we heard the sound of hoof beats.

  There were at least twenty armed Locals—some on horses, others running on foot—coming to our rescue.

  We girls simply sat on the ground, waiting—dead Crazies all around us.

  Cammie was covered in splatters of red, as was Peyton. Meanwhile, Florenza was quietly cleaning the blood out from under her long fingernails.

  I wondered what I must have looked like; was it obvious that I had just killed?

  That I was a murderer?

  That we were all killers?

  * * * *

  Kieran was the first to reach us. He jumped down from his horse before it had even come to a halt, racing toward Cammie and taking her in his arms. He looked horrified by what he was looking at—the blood all over Cammie’s face, her uncontrollable shaking.

  “She’s okay,” insisted Florenza, patting Kieran on his hand. “Your girl got a little rambunctious, that’s all.”

  An unhappy look came over Kieran’s face. He said nothing to Florenza—instead pulling Cammie up and away from us, moving her to where they could speak privately.

  I watched them for a moment, heads together, Cammie quietly telling her story.

  Their closeness, their obvious love—I couldn’t help but think about Jacob.

  For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, the pain of his absence was so great.

  Pauly arrived a second later. He rushed over to Florenza and kneeled down beside her, one hand caressing her hair.

  “You okay, mami?” he asked, gently.

  “Broke a nail,” complained Florenza, holding up her hand and pouting.

  Surprisingly—it was Kieran who responded, not Pauly. Apparently, Cammie must have told him how Florenza had just saved her life.

  Now Kieran was back, kneeling beside Florenza, reaching for her hand and kissing the broken nail.

  “Thank you,” he told Florenza. “Thank you.”

  * * * *

  While the rest of our guys searched the Crazies for survivors—there were none—Kieran, Pauly, and us girls talked about what had happened.

  “It was the trumpet,” explained Kieran. “The sentry up at the Nature Preserve heard the gun shots and blew his horn. That got relayed to the compound and down to us.”

  “So, it wasn’t the runner that Florenza sent over?” I asked.

  Kieran shook his head. “We passed him on the way here.”

  “We were almost at the preserve when we heard all the gunshots and switched directions,” added Pauly. “Not like you guys needed our help apparently.”

  Florenza leaned her head on his shoulder. “I always need your help, papi.”

  Across from them, Kieran actually grinned.

  Meanwhile, I held up the flare gun. “They were trying to set this off. I think it was to let the Crazies know that it’s time to attack.”

  “Now that’s interesting,” mused Kieran. “Because me and Pauly have been wondering what they’re up to.”

  “Doesn’t make sense, the way the Crazies are just shooting a little bit here and there down at the highway,” explained Pauly. “It sure seems like they’re holding out for something.”

  “So, how do we use that gun to our advantage?” asked Kieran.

  “Well, I’ve got an idea,” I admitted. Then, I looked over at Peyton. She was running her fingers through her silky hair, trying to get the blood out. “Only we’d need Frank’s help.”

  Peyton immediately stopped grooming to frown at me.

  Beside her, Kieran shook his head. “Frank won’t fight, you know that, Kaylee.”

  “He’s like a Quaker now,” added Pauly. “A total Buddhist-boy.”

  “Peyton?” I asked, looking only at her.

  She gave a big sigh. “Guys just need the right incentive,” she said, quietly. Then, she returned to brushing the blood from her hair.

  * * * *

  When we arrived at the farm, Frank was out in the field, helping his guys to dig another protection ditch. He looked up as he heard our horses, his face going pale when he saw the blood all over Peyton.

  For a moment, he just stood there, stunned. Then, he ran forward, pulling Peyton off of her horse and into his arms.

  “Ohmigod…what happened?!” Frank held Peyton back to check her for wounds. “One moment you were talking to Florenza and the next…you were just gone. I thought maybe you had ridden back to the compound to check on Lance.”

  Peyton began to cry—great, wracking sobs full of pain and anguish.

  Frank pulled her back into his arms and looked over to me, confused.

  “The Crazies attacked,” I explained to him. “It was just the four of us—Peyton, Cammie, Florenza and me—and it was bad.”

  Frank held Peyton even tighter. Struggling to understand, he looked at each of us girls in turn.

  Cammie—the red rings around her neck, fingerprints of a near murder.

  Florenza—the blood still drying on her chin and neck, a seeping bandage over her right arm.

  And me—bruises on my arms…and determination in my eyes.

  “We need your help,” I told Frank. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  Peyton’s sobbing slowed—mutating into soft, tormented hiccups. She pulled back, so that she could look Frank straight in the eyes. I had to marvel at how achingly beautiful and helpless she seemed at that moment—covered in blood, tear streaks down her cheeks.

  “Please, Frank,” she begged. “I don’t want to be a slave…oh, please!”

  Even I would have done anything for her at that moment.

  * * * *

  I will always wonder if Peyton was faking her tears—if the sobs and the anguish on her face were simply tools to get what she wanted from Frank.

  Personally, I hoped that she was sincere.

  I had come to admire and even love Peyton—like a sister. More than anything, I wanted her feelings and kindness to be real, for all the vestiges of being a Fox to finally be gone.

  But when Frank finally agreed to help us, Peyton turned to me—her tears drying, her face slack.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she mouthed, silently.

  * * * *

  “No matter what, Peyton stays out of it,” Frank insisted. “She did more than enough already.”

  I nodded my agreement. “She can stay at the farm or in the compound…her choice.”

  “Then, I’ll come with you. But I won’t pick up a gun,” he said, grimly. “I just can’t.”

  “That’s fair,” I told him. “We don’t need you to fight anyway. Jacob told me what you did before to save the Point. We need you to lead the guys in that…nothing more.”

  We were standing just outside the farm’s main building—a large, dark mansion that had once housed a family of television actors. Peyton had already disappeared inside, most likely to clean the rest of the blood from her hair.

  Meanwhile, Kieran, Pauly, Frank, Cammie, and Florenza stood on the veranda, listening while I explained my plan in more detail. My pocket map was spread out on a table and I pointed to the marks I had drawn on it.

  “I figure these would be the best places for your team,” I told Frank. “That will cut right across the Point.”

  “Got a pencil?” asked Frank.

  Kieran reached into a pocket and handed him a stub.

  Frank took it and redrew my lines. “It makes more sense to use what we’ve already dug for the first one. We’ll just add to it, here and here. Your other cuts are fine, though.”

  “We could lose a lot of the Point that way,” warned Kieran.

  Frank shrugged. “We could lose even more if we don’t get it finished in time. Kaylee’s way would take too long. Why dig a new ditch when we’ve got one already there?”

  “Frank, you do what you
think is best,” I said, folding up the map. “But, do it quickly!”

  “What if the Crazies attack before Frank is finished?” asked Pauly.

  “If we’re quick enough, I don’t think they will. I think they’re waiting for this.” I held up the flare gun. “I think it’s the signal that the beach guys are in place and that they’ve got us surrounded.”

  “We’ve got another problem. The Crazies will see my team if I go along Zuma,” said Kieran. “I mean, they’re coming down along the highway right now. The beach is wide open to the road—there’s no way we can cross it without being seen. And they’ve already got guys on the other side of Pacific Coast Highway, so we can’t sneak across that way.”

  “You’ll have to go by water,” I told him. “It’s the only way I can think of…maybe take one of the evacuation boats.”

  “That might work,” said Kieran, thinking. “If we head far enough out, they might not even see us.”

  An idea suddenly hit me. “Better yet, Kieran—let them see you. Have your guys wear bright colors, hats, long wigs if you have them. And keep low in the boat, so you’ll all look shorter.”

  Kieran grinned, catching on. “You want the Crazies to think we’re you girls…that we’re evacuating.”

  I nodded. “Land past Broad Beach, whenever you think they’re not looking. It might give us exactly the chance we need.”

  “What about my team?” asked Pauly. He swished his hips around, suggestively. “I’d make a luscious girlie.”

  Florenza laughed so hard it came out as a snort. “You be an ugly girl, papi…I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re not going out on the water,” I told him. “I want your guys to use the same route that those Crazies did.”

  “Climb along the rocks.”

  “Exactly…the Crazies had a good idea there. We might as well take advantage of it. And make sure that your tattoo is exposed—in case there are Crazies at the other end. Let them think you’re one of their own guys coming back.”

  “When do you want us to return?” asked Kieran.

  “The moment you and Pauly land, you and your teams start heading back,” I told them. “Just do it carefully, so that the Crazies don’t see you.”

  “So, we pick our own routes,” said Pauly.

  I nodded. “Trees, highway, mountains…I don’t care. Just make it to your end positions and dig in until the second flare goes up.”

  “What about our guys down at the highway?” asked Kieran. “Shawnee’s leading the Raiders on the far side. But who’s going to lead the ones on this side, if me and Pauly are gone?”

  “Guess that’s going to have to be me,” I grinned.

  Pauly chuckled, giving me a slight punch in the arm. “After what you did back at that cliff, you’ll be fine.”

  Kieran wasn’t so certain, however.

  “Everything’s going to come down to that flare gun,” warned Kieran. “I hope that you’re right.”

  “The flare gun and Frank,” I added. “And I am right…you’ll see.”

  Meanwhile, Frank leaned over to study the line he’d drawn across the map once more. He shook his head, giving a low whistle.

  “What is it?” I asked, concerned.

  “This dang plan of yours,” he muttered. “You realize that it’s utterly crazy but, if it works…freaking brilliant, Kaylee.”

  For the first time Cammie spoke. She placed her arm around my shoulder and grinned at the guys.

  “That’s what Kaylee does,” she said, proudly. “She’s our Connor.”

  * * * *

  While Kieran and Pauly headed off on their missions, Frank, Cammie, Florenza, and I stopped in at the compound to pick up the supplies that Frank would need. As the three of them loaded everything onto the horses, I raced over to the underground garage.

  “Everything okay down here?” I asked Jay and Porter.

  They were on their knees when I entered, packing medications into boxes. A short ways away, I saw Lance playing tag with Hannah and Lily—the three of them running between the beds of sick Locals.

  “Ohmigod, Kaylee!” screeched Jay, jumping up and running over to hug me. “We heard what happened down at the cliff!”

  “Bad news travels fast, I see.”

  “Are you okay? Like is it really true what you did…like is Victor actually dead?” Jay’s words tumbled all over each other; she was frowning, worried. Her eyes widened in horror at something she suddenly saw on my shoulder. “Oh no, oh no…it’s blood!”

  She backed up, pointing—like I was infected by something horrible.

  Porter rescued both of us, handing me a wet wipe to clean myself off. “You okay?” he asked, looking very concerned. “Like if you need them, we’ve got…well, some pills, right?”

  “You mean like Valium?!”

  He shrugged, looking down at the ground in embarrassment.

  “I don’t need any fracking pills! I just dropped by to see how everything was going,” I snapped, irritated. “What’s done is done and, maybe later I’ll get all moody about it but, right now—I’ve got a war to win!”

  Turning on my heel, I headed for the entrance.

  “Wait, Kaylee…wait!” Jay caught up with me just as I stepped outside into the afternoon sun. She grabbed at my arm—holding on tight—looking up at me, anxious and apologetic. “I’m sorry…please forgive me,” she begged. “It’s just…well…”

  I said it for her. “It’s just that I killed someone today.”

  Tears filled Jay’s eyes.

  Hurt by what I felt was her disapproval, I tried to pull away, but Jay held on even tighter. “Kaylee, please,” she pleaded, “I know that what you did was right…that it was the only thing you could do…that they would have killed you if you hadn’t killed them first but…”

  She suddenly ran out of words; the look on Jay’s face was one of misery.

  I reached out and gently removed her fingers from my arm.

  “It’s okay,” I told her. “You can think what you want about me. Heck, I’ll probably be thinking the same things later on…but just not now, okay? Because I have to hold it together…because this tribe is counting on it…because Jacob is counting on it.”

  “No!” said Jay, shaking her head—reaching for my arm again. “You’ve got it all wrong, Kaylee. I’m not thinking anything bad about you…just the opposite. I’m so amazed, that’s all…I’m astonished…I’m proud of you!”

  There were tears in Jay’s eyes and—frankly—I was struggling with my own.

  “But mostly, Kaylee,” Jay continued, “I’m just so very relieved that you did what you did. Because, honestly—I don’t think that I would have been able…because you’re stronger than me. You’re stronger than all of us. But you haven’t realized that, yet…and it’s one of the reasons that I love you so much.”

  “Mother, they need you.”

  I turned to see a young kid around 12-years old—one of the Locals we were using to run messages from the compound to the guys on the front lines. He was holding onto Beauty’s reins, the horse pawing the lawn behind him. “Ms. Cammie sent me to get you, Mother.”

  “Did she find the extra flare gun?” I asked the kid.

  He nodded. “She got two of them, plus three more flares.”

  “Two seconds,” I said, then turned back to Jay, whispering. “Did that kid just call me Mother?”

  “You didn’t know?” Jay nodded, grinning. “They’ve been calling you that for some time now.”

  * * * *

  Cammie was not happy when I told her to stay behind at the compound.

  “Why can’t I come?” she asked, as I reached down to help Florenza up on Beauty. “I can help you!”

  “You can help me by staying here,” I said. “I need you to take over the compound. If the Crazies get by us, you and Sophia will be in charge of getting everybody evacuated. That means you have to figure it out now—how to get all those people in that garage down the cliff and into the boats.”

&
nbsp; “Where do I take them if it happens?” she asked, looking worried.

  “Go as far north as you need to get them somewhere safe—Broad Beach, Heavens Beach, Dog Beach…wherever…head into Oxnard if you have to. Just when you land, take some spray paint and draw a star on a wall or the street or something, where we can see it from the water. Make one arm just a little longer than the other. That’ll be the direction that you went. Every time you change direction, draw another star. We’ll find you that way.”

  Cammie’s eyes filled with tears. She nodded, too choked to speak.

  “I’m counting on you, Cammie,” I told her. “Don’t you dare let me down!”

  Then, I pulled back on the reins, spinning Beauty around. Moments later, Florenza and I were galloping down Dume Drive toward Pavilions.

  “You wanna’ tell me the real reason Cammie got benched?” Florenza yelled in my ear.

  “I think this is probably going to get real ugly,” I yelled back. “And honestly—I don’t know how much more Cammie can take.”

  We were nearing the end of Dume Drive. I could see Pavilions just ahead of us. Two of my armed guards saw me coming and jumped onto their horses, racing toward us.

  “What about me?” asked Florenza, as I pulled back on the reins, slowing Beauty down to a trot. “Maybe I’m a delicate flower, too.”

  I glanced back at her, chuckling. “More like a Venus Flytrap, maybe…beautiful but lethal.”

  Grinning, Florenza patted me on the shoulder. “Me and you, chica. We do what we gotta’ do, don’t we?”

  The guards arrived, moving in alongside of us. One of them was Erroll—the 17-year old African-American I’d come to respect and rely on more and more since Jacob had gone missing. Erroll had been brought up on a cattle ranch, was practically raised on a horse with a rifle in his hand. No matter what I asked of him, Erroll worked hard and he never complained.

  I considered him my friend—not just my guard.

  “Mother, they’ve just made Trancas,” Erroll reported. “Over fifty Crazies that we counted, but more are coming out of the hillsides every minute.”