by D B Bray
“I wish I could wake up, and this would all have been a terrible dream,” he sighed.
“When we wake up after the battle, it will just be a memory,” she said.
“Thanks, Lucy. I never thought we would get this far.”
“I think Edward is watching over you, and he would be proud that you saw this thing through to the end. I’ll see you later tonight,” she said, then walked away.
Jack sat down on the church steps and watched Toby and Henry figure out the best way to protect the church. They had built a barricade of scrap wood and pieces of the corrugated roof. It wouldn’t stand up to a grown man, but it looked formidable.
His dog Rector limped up to him and put his nose under his hand. Jack smiled and rubbed his face. Rector grunted his appreciation.
What am I going to do, Rector? Do we have what it takes to make it?
Sensing his fear, Rector licked his palm and pressed up against him. Jack soon felt the ease and comfort sometimes only a dog could give. He rubbed his ears once more and stared in the center of the compound.
That idea won’t work, will it?
Jack ran to the center of the town square. He approached the location, the old woman and her daughter from the tent city stood waiting for him.
“Hello Jack, do you remember us?” Vivian asked.
“Of course, so I see you made it to Fort Camden,” Jack said.
The woman nodded and handed Jack a necklace. She nodded to the girl and signed her message.
“The necklace was my father’s. He was captured by slavers when I was born. It’s the last thing she has to remind her of him,” Vivian said.
“I can’t take——.”
“She will be offended if you don’t.” Her mother pointed at Lucy and smiled with a nod. “Go,” she mouthed and then walked away with Vivian.
Jack held it up and then walked over to Lucy. She was talking to several of the Blades, pointing to where the rallying point was if they lost the wall. Jack walked up and unclasped the necklace. He placed it around Lucy’s neck from behind with a smile. Lucy felt the medallion and read it.
“Who’s Saint Christopher?”
Jack shrugged and kissed her on the cheek. “Ladies,” he said and walked off.
Lucy finished talking to her friends, sat on a church step, and rubbed the medallion. A dirty man who was hunched over slid over to her.
“Oh, if only your father could see you now,” he whispered.
Lucy glanced at the man. “What was that?” she asked.
The man removed his hood, his face a series of boils and scabs. A branding mark in the middle of his forehead.
“Vern?” Lucy hissed.
She tried to push herself off the step, but Vern’s grip was like an iron cast around her wrist.
“Lucy, stop. I mean, you know harm. I’m still loyal to your father,” Vern said.
Lucy looked like she was about to scream but looked deeper into Vern’s pleading eyes.
“You have two minutes. Then I’ll have Jasmine hang you from the church steeple.”
Vern glanced over his shoulder and giggled.
“Fair enough,” he said.
“I was branded a traitor by your uncle. He cast me out into the wilderness. I came here because I heard some men talking in a tavern about some kids starting a new government. I just never imagined it would be you.”
“I’m not a kid, Vern,” she said coldly.
“That is also true. You are your father’s daughter. I have watched you for the last few days and waited until you were alone. I have something for you.” He handed her a harmonica out of his pocket. “I kept it for safekeeping.”
Lucy held it in her palm. Vern closed her fingers around it and sat back. “It was—-.”
“My fathers. I thought Red burned this with everything else he owned.”
Vern giggled awkwardly. Something seemed different about him.
“Oh, he did, but I found it before Red. It’s yours now,” he whispered, his eyes darting around. “You never saw me,” he whispered again, his finger in front of lips to shush her.
Lucy watched him retreat into the shadows, her mouth agape. Quill strolled by her and looked in the direction she was staring at.
“What’s up, Lucy?” he asked.
“Oh nothing, I thought I saw a ghost,” she said.
Chapter 20
The next morning, Quill stood on the wall. He watched intently as Billy ride through the mist, galloping toward the gate. Quill yelled down to open the gates as he approached, his horse gliding through the open field. Billy leaped from his mount and ran over to Quill. Out of breath, he took the canteen that was offered him and took a deep pull.
“They’re coming. I counted close to a hundred riders. They will be here within the hour,” Billy said.
“Calvary?” Quill asked.
Billy nodded. “And machine gun mounted turrets.”
“Not good news. Take a break, water your horse, and report back here as soon as you’re finished,” Quill said.
He sounded the horn, and everyone sprinted to the center of the fort. Quill looked over the faces assembled and then stepped up on a wagon.
“The Takers are coming. Everyone knows what to do. I wish you all the best of luck, and if you hear us sound retreat, fall back to the church. This is the last opportunity for anyone to escape. If you want to leave, go now,” Quill said.
He waited for anyone who wanted to leave, his neck sweating, his palms clammy. No one moved. The fighters with families kissed their children and then climbed the rampart.
Jack watched Adam amble over to Kelly and her group of warriors. The pair had talked on and off throughout the week, and Kelly finally stopped giving him the cold shoulder.
“Kelly, do you have a minute?” Adam asked.
The girls with her turned back to preparing their weapons as if Adam wasn’t standing there. Kelly walked away from the group and crossed her arms.
“What do you want, Adam?” she asked.
“I just wanted to say that when this battle is over, I’m going to take you on a long walk.” He untied the choker from his neck and put it in her palm. “My mother gave me this. Should something happen to me, I want you to have it.” He kissed her hand and walked away.
Kelly stared at the choker and then tied it around her neck. She ran after Adam and grabbed his shoulder. She kissed him and smiled.
“I’ll see you after.”
Jack shook his head and smiled as Adam walked over to him. They stood side by side, quietly watching everyone ready themselves. Jack elbowed Adam and smiled.
They were ready.
Adam shouted over the din of everyone working. “Blades, on me!”
He shook Jack’s hand, and without another word, he led his group to the wall as the distant rumbling from The Takers approaching could be heard.
Jack watched Quill wave his hands over his head, and he calmly walked to his position.
What I wouldn’t give for my old rifle.
He picked a rifle out of the pile with everyone else and slammed a bullet into the chamber. He took a deep breath to calm himself and then walked toward his destiny.
An hour passed, and then the ground shook. The sound of drums on the horizon accompanied by the neighing of horses caused some of the defenders to back off the wall.
Here we go, Jack thought.
He scanned the churchyard for Toby and waved. Toby’s wide gapped grin was reassuring. He told Toby earlier in the day if the attackers made it over the walls, they were to run out the back of the fort with Lucy and head for higher ground. Jack would stay with the others. Win, lose, or draw, he had to make sure he saw the plan all the way through.
Silhouettes came over the hill a few moments later. Jack could hear them more than he could see them. They were coming down the path Quill and Rufus had predicted they would. The army stopped in the trees. And then he heard the sounds like he did at Fort Monroe. The blood-curdling war cry of the men and women
who took prisoners and offered no quarter.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and gripped the stock of his rifle, his hands shaking. He heard Rufus beside him.
“Don’t worry, Jack, we’re with you,” he said.
Jack nodded, trying to keep from running off the wall and grabbing Toby and Lucy.
Stay the course, stay…
He heard the first salvo from the rockets and felt their vibrations as they flew downrange. Jack listened to the screams of pain as the rockets pounded the wall, the burning wood obstructing his view.
The attackers screamed as the first line of infantry ran through the wooded path. The haze cleared, and Jack watched the men and women step in the covered sinkholes Rufus and the others had dug. He could hear the shouts of surprise as the attackers stepped in the holes, breaking their ankles.
As the attackers fell, others stampeded over them. The second wave ran through the field, two to a ladder. They sprinted across the open landscape, no one expecting the second line of defense. The attackers plunged headlong into the moat with short spikes waiting for them underneath.
Another salvo of rockets hit the wall, the concussion knocking Jack to the rampart. With his ears ringing, he saw Lucy’s group firing. Huge holes appeared in the fence line. Rufus’ large hands scooped Jack up and shoved a rifle into his hands.
“Attack boy!” he shouted, cutting a grappling hook off the wall near them.
Jack shook his head, touched his temple, and drew back blood. He watched more grappling hooks come over the wall and helped cut them alongside Rufus. A few feet away from Jack, the first of The Takers crawled over the fence.
He felt someone push him toward the wall and then watched Charlie swing his bat like a seamstress weaving a tapestry as more attackers leaped over the fence.
He thought he heard Charlie laughing, and then he heard, “You smell of fear!”
For a moment, they were held at bay; in the next, they were past Charlie and heading for the church. Jack looked at Rufus, and as he did, an attacker raised his rifle.
“Jack heads up,” Rufus shouted.
He grabbed Jack by the shoulders and threw him to the ground. The bullet ricocheted at Jack’s feet, peppering his legs with wood splinters. Rufus clubbed the man over the head and shoved him back over the wall.
Jack watched as more attackers barreled over their comrades. His mind ran in slow motion as both friend and foe fought to the bitter end. He covered his head with his arm as another thunderous heatwave cascaded over him from another rocket. Three attackers charged toward the church from the far side of the parapet he was on.
Toby stepped out in front of the barricade with nothing more than a stick.
Toby!
Jack shimmied down the ladder and caught the men in the open. He brought the rifle to his shoulder.
Father, forgive—-.
He dropped the three attackers as even more poured over the wall behind him. There was a massive explosion, and he watched in horror as the wall next to the gate collapsed, attackers and defenders, falling together.
He felt another rush of heat and then the concussion from the blast in the courtyard. It was hard for him to move at first, then the pain set in. He felt woozy and laid back down. Coughing, he rolled on his side. He managed to sit up, his vision blurred. At first, the sound was low, off-key.
It can’t be, can it?
He glanced over his shoulder. And there they were, lines of boys and girls singing at the top of their lungs.
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah.
Glory, Glory, Hallelujah.
Our tribes are marching on.
Then he saw it. Attached to a pole, fluttering in the breeze was the flag Rufus had given him that Toby must have found rooting through his pack. The red, white, and blue appeared through the smoke.
Toby and Henry Shawn walked side by side past him, singing at the top of their lungs. He could hear Toby’s voice, offbeat, and moments later, Lucy’s hand pulled him to his feet.
“Shall we?” she asked.
He heard the cheer, and then his plan went into action. Streaming out of the pit, they secretly dug in the night covered by an old tarp were the slaves from Battery Park, some only armed with rolling pins and kitchen utensils.
They were led by a man he didn’t recognize for a moment, and then it came back to him.
Vern?
Jack couldn’t mistake the mark branded on his forehead. A look of determination crossed Vern’s face as he charged ahead, the former slaves following him without question into the fray.
In a moment, all was lost inside the fort, then the tide turned. Toby waved the flag with all the strength he had, rallying the defenders behind him. He saw Quill run by, his scorched black jacket streaming behind him.
Something hit Jack from the side and knocked him to the ground. He sat up and watched Red and Lucy square off against one another as the defenders pushed their attackers back to the broken wall.
He heard Lucy shout, “It ends today.”
They collided in the center of the fort. He heard grunts and shouts from each of them; the smoke was obstructing his view. He tried to get to his feet but fell back. He glanced down, his leg pointing inward.
When he glanced back, Lucy was lying on the ground, Red standing over her. He raised his spiked club above his head and swung it down and then staggered back with a shout of surprise. He grasped the flag pole piercing his chest, a look of bewilderment crossing his features. Jasmine held the other end, her hands shaking.
Red staggered back a few steps, his jaw loose and then tumbled into the freshly dug hole everyone had exploded out of. Jasmine drug Lucy over to Jack, trying to hold him as he screamed and thrashed around on the ground.
Lucy came to and looked around, confused. “What happened?” she asked.
Jack’s screams answered her question. She sat up and knelt by his side. She tried to comfort him as the last of the attackers were pushed out of the fort to flee into the forest.
The cheers from Fort Camden could have been heard in Philadelphia, loud as it was. Jasmine and Lucy carried Jack into the church, where Bushwick was tending the wounded. They placed him on a table and did the best they could to make him comfortable. Jack held his leg, straining to keep his composure.
“We’ll be right back,” Lucy said.
Jack ground his teeth and nodded. “Find T—-”
Lucy cut him off. “I’m on it, rest.”
Lucy found Toby sitting on a log with Henry Shawn, sharing a canteen, both their faces grimy and sweaty. Rufus limped up to her, nodded, and then walked inside the church.
“You okay, Toby?” Lucy asked, taking a knee in front of him.
Toby smiled, one of his lower teeth missing. He spat out some blood and nodded. “Yupper.”
Lucy giggled and patted his shoulder, then stood up.
Adam walked past them and into the church carrying Charlie over his shoulder. He didn’t say a word, only nodded as he walked up the steps. Kelly walked in behind him, holding a young girl's hand.
Two dozen battered and bloody Blades approached from the wall, carrying those who were unable to walk. Many of their grim faces told of the horrors they saw in the brief battle.
“Is this all that made it from the Blades?” Lucy asked, watching them march by.
Quill nodded. “War is Hell,” he muttered and then followed the others in.
The defender's losses in Fort Camden were beyond reasoning. They lost forty percent of the inhabitants of the fort. An egregious number for any army, especially a growing army.
Lucy leaned against the church wall, and a solitary tear fell from her eye. It was over, at least the battle was. There were more slaver tribes out there and with them slaves. She knew at that moment what her calling was, and she must free the others. She pulled her father’s harmonica out of her pocket and began to play the Battle Hymn of the Republic. The louder she played, the larger the crowd. She played for several minutes and then drew a fresh bre
ath.
The applause was slow at first, then progressively louder with so many of them caught up in the moment after the battle, their nerves frayed. Lucy took a deep breath and nodded her thanks to the group before walking over to the pit. It had been a hard-fought battle, one that seemed unwinnable. But the young people of Fort Camden had risen to the occasion.
Approaching the pit, she glanced down at Red and sighed. She made her way down and found he was still breathing. Instinctively, she rushed to his side. He smiled as she approached. She cried and held her head down. He inched his fingers over to her hand. She pulled away and then reached back to him.
Red coughed. “Fine mess I got myself into here.” He coughed again, louder than before. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am for putting you through all this pain. I—-.”
Lucy stared into his eyes. “I forgive you,” she said, cutting him off.
Red groaned, his eyes searching madly around his eye sockets in panic. Lucy reassured him as the tears fell from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.
“Why did this have to happen?” Red whispered, a tear glistening at the corner of his eye. He gave one final groan, and his eyes widened.
Lucy sat crying for a few minutes until Toby and Henry stood above her at the lip. Toby motioned for Henry to stay where he was, and then he made his way down to her.
He put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”
She sniffed and sighed. “Don’t be sorry, Toby. He’s in a better place now.”
“Kind of like Rector Wallace and Edward?” he asked.
“Right.”
Toby nodded in understanding and helped her out of the pit. They sat down at the edge, exhausted. Toby handed her his canteen, and she took a deep gulp and sighed.
“Let’s go see Jack,” she said.
The next morning, those left alive took to the grim task of burying their dead. The Blades said their goodbyes in their own way by building a roaring bonfire and calling out each fallen member's name to a drum beat.
Jack watched from his window, the pain radiating down his leg as it had for the last several weeks. They called Charlie’s name, almost in a whisper. A cold silence settled across the Blades assembled. Jack watched Adam stand up and address the group.
