by N A Broadley
She bit down hard on her lower lip as she felt tears sting the back of her eyes. This jack ass didn’t know anything about her or what she’d gone through in the past week. He didn’t know that she was doing the best she knew to do! She felt blind anger rushing through her as she struggled against the tears. Through clenched teeth and hitching sobs, she tore into him savagely.
“You don’t know me! You don’t know what I’ve been through! How dare you! I don’t know how to do this! I don’t know how to live like this! I am just trying to survive every single freakin moment of every day! I hate this new world! I hate that I am not as smart or a prepper or a fighter! I want to go home, but I have no home anymore. I am hungry and scared all of the time! My feet hurt, my face hurts from getting used as a punching bag! I never asked for this! I was married, I had a daughter, a good life and now it’s all gone!”
It was all true - every anguished word she uttered. She was just a normal, forty-eight-year-old woman who had strength, determination, and stamina to stay alive. She lived, before the event, a normal, sedentary life. Occasionally hiking, occasionally camping, but otherwise, pretty boring.
She knew standard medicine and herbal medicine; she knew basic life-saving skills. She watched television and loved having every convenience available. Her food came from the grocery store, wrapped neatly in plastic or boxed neatly in boxes. She didn’t can, and she didn’t prep, she didn’t have any fighting skills other than knowing how to take a beating and defending herself in whatever way she could. She couldn’t hunt.
Shit! She could barely load the two guns she had, and the most she knew about them was to point and shoot. But in the life she’d led, she didn’t have to know these things. Like most people, she lived easily, contentedly. She never expected life to take the turn it had and hand her a shit sandwich.
Brian watched as she curled in on herself, sobs wracking her body. He watched in stunned silence as Sarah crawled across the small tent and wrapped her tiny body around Beth’s and as Jessie crawled to them both and shielded them with her body. He didn’t know how to handle this. A crying woman? And her anger?
He had experience dealing with other prisoners. Hard and seasoned criminals. Not emotional women. He felt like he’d just kicked a kitten and it made him cringe inside. And he felt like shit. Like something, he’d peeled off the bottom of his shoe. Of course, she didn’t know. Of course, she was working to survive. Weren’t they all? He coughed softly.
“I’m sorry.”
Beth looked up at him. Her face streaked with tears, purplish bruises around her swollen eyes.
“I’m doing the best I can right now,” she whispered. Brian nodded.
“I know.”
Four long, cold, rainy days. The mud stuck to their shoes. The rain soaked their clothes. Each night as they crawled into the tent to rest, their bodies chilled and shaking, Beth prayed for the sun to return. Prayed for a hot meal, even if it was only the cheesy noodles she was so sick of eating. Her rocket stove ran out of fuel. They struggled to try to get even the smallest of fire lit and finally resorted to just eating day in and day out the dried deer meat that was part of Brian’s food stash.
She was concerned about Brian. The first day on the trail, he limped along slowly but pushed them through the miles. He urged them to keep going until long after dark. That night he tossed and turned with pain. She’d given him Tylenol, but she was running low on those. He needed a good warming herbal tea, one that would combat the pain and boost his healing. But without fire, she couldn’t even do that for him.
For three more days they pushed hard along the trail. And Beth saw that Brian was struggling. His limp became more pronounced with each step. His cheeks flushed with what she suspected was a fever, and he’d developed a deep, raspy cough. He wouldn’t give in; he wouldn’t let them slow down, he refused to stop. And then there was Sarah; she too was struggling.
Yesterday she noticed Sarah was starting to cough as well. They were both coming down sick, with a cold? With the flu? She didn’t know, but whatever it was, she didn’t like what she was seeing.
In the past week, she learned a lot about this man who’d saved their lives, and she’d learned too that although he tried to paint himself a criminal, a tough guy, he wasn’t as bad as he’d portrayed himself to be. He had a soft side. Not one he showed willingly, but she saw it. She saw it in the way he would sneak a bite of food to Jessie or pet her ears as she lay at his feet. She saw it in the way he always passed the water bottle for her and Sarah to drink before he took his sip. Or the way he made sure Sarah was tucked up tightly in the sleeping bag while he laid beside them both in the tent. Yes, the little ways were the telling nature of this man that was now part of their little group. He didn’t talk much about his past, and she suspected that it was filled with violence and pain. The tattoos on his arms were familiar. She’d transported many a prisoner in the back of the ambulance to and from the hospitals in her old life. She didn’t ask him though about them figuring he would tell her in his own time. Or maybe he never would, and that was okay too.
That evening, as they struggled to stay warm inside the tent, she talked to both of them about their situation. They needed to get off the trail. They needed to find a place that was warm and dry, where they could hole up for a few days and regain some strength. They needed warm meals.
She suggested they make their way into the next town they came to, find an abandoned house or barn, and take a day or two to just rest. Their backpacks were soaked through with the rain as well as their clothes and sleeping gear. They were exhausted from the miles they’d laid under their feet, and now they were starting to get sick.
“I don’t know much about a lot of things, but one thing I do know a lot about is the human body and illness. If we keep pushing the way we have been, we aren’t going to have to worry about this so-called creep Bobby finding us; we’ll be dead on the side of this damn trail from illness and exhaustion with the wild animals scavenging our bodies,” she finished.
Brian nodded. What she said made sense. His chest felt like there was a hundred-pound weight sitting on it, his lungs burned with each breath and raspy cough, and he felt like he was trying to suck air through a straw. He was sick and getting sicker by the moment. And he’d too noticed Sarah starting to cough as well.
“You’re right. As much as I hate to have to stop and hunker down, I know if we don’t, then….” he finished, shrugging his shoulders.
“Good, then it’s settled. Come morning we’ll make our way into town,” Beth replied.
In the past week, they covered roughly sixty miles. An average of fifteen miles a day over rough, muddy terrain. They were roughly thirty or so miles from the Connecticut border. The next closest town on the Appalachian Trail Guide Map to where they were would be Webster Massachusetts. So, Webster, it would be.
She remembered visiting there many years ago for some festival or another that Mitch was always dragging her to. It was a small city compared to Boston but large enough and spread out enough that they should be able to find shelter easily enough in the more rural locations. She didn’t like the idea of going off trail but what other choice did they have? Neither Sarah nor Brian would heal in these cold and wet conditions.
Settling in for the night, she closed her eyes and sighed thankfully for the four hours of sleep she’d get before Brian would wake her to take over sentry duties. With the warmth of the sleeping bag around her, she let her mind drift and her breath even out as she listened to the chirping of crickets as they lulled her to sleep and the soft rain pattering on the canvas of the tent.
She woke to Sarah tossing and thrashing beside her. Silent sobs as her young body shook. She turned on her headlamp and looked up to see Brian standing in the doorway of the tent. She pulled Sarah into her arms and cradled her, soothing her with soft words. She felt Sarah’s arms circle her waist and tighten with fear as shadows from the nightmare lingered like ghosts in her mind.
“It’s okay. You
are just having a nightmare baby.” She looked over the top of Sarah’s head at Brian.
“She’s okay. Just nightmares,” she said as Sarah curled into her. Once she got her back to sleep, she quietly made her way out to sit next to Brian.
“Is she okay now?”
“Yes. She’s been through a lot. I don’t know what, but whatever happened to her has left her terrified and traumatized. I don’t know what her father or those men did to her, but I can only guess,” she said softly. Brian’s eyes hardened as anger gripped him. She was just a child. A child!
Chapter Fifteen
Bobby smiled then grimaced as he picked absently at a scab on his face, his fingernails digging in deeply and coming away smeared with blood. Acne was a constant, and he often picked at it; thus, deep scars and pockmarks blemished his face. His brother and other two men were still missing. His package, a very expensive package, was still missing along with the group of women they were supposed to be bringing back.
He didn’t give a rat’s ass about the men other than Billy, but the package and the women? Yeah, he gave a shit about that. It cost him two of his best women for the package. Equivalent to thousands of dollars if the dollar been worth anything anymore. Human trafficking had always been a lucrative business. There were those who would pay to play at any price. And he saw that quickly and took advantage of it.
His mama didn’t raise any dummies. Strike while the iron is hot; she’d always told him in her more sober moments. And strike he did. He took women and girls from every surrounding town within miles. And he used them for trade. The package that the boys were carrying was considered white gold…cocaine. The best of the best. Of course, he would cut it down, add some of his crappy shit, and trade it for ten times what he’d paid. Yup, big business.
He knew he should’ve gone after the boys, but he figured the rain slowed them down. Now it was going on a week, and he knew something must’ve happened to them. Someone or something must’ve stopped them.
Glancing out at the dark and stormy sky, he shrugged his shoulders. He hated being wet and cold, but there were those who were hounding him for what was in the package, and he’d have no choice but to brave the weather and get what was his. Slinging a jacket over his shoulders, he opened the door.
It took him five minutes to walk over to Harris’ house. Knocking lightly on the door, he waited. It was opened by a sultry redhead with green eyes. One of his women. A gift to his second in command. She glanced at him, then lowered her eyes. She knew it was a death sentence to show him any disrespect.
“Come in, sir.”
Walking through the door, he tossed his rain jacket onto a nearby bench and lit a cigarette.
“Where’s Harris?”
“He’ll be down in a minute. He’s getting dressed sir.” Bobby nodded and then grinned as he grabbed for the woman and pulled her roughly against him. She’d been his favorite. One of the first he’d taken. He regretted giving her to Harris. As her body leaned into his, he felt himself harden. If he had more time, well, he let that thought float away. He didn’t have time. He remembered well her screams as he stood over her husband and unloaded his gun into him. Those screams intensified with what came later. Pulling her against him, he nuzzled his face into her hair. She didn’t resist.
“Mmmmm…I miss you, Caitlin,” he murmured as his hand slipped inside of her robe.
“Ummm…get your hands off my woman!” Harris said then laughed as he descended the stairs into the hallway. His voice was teasing, but the expression of anger that flashed in his eyes was telling.
Bobby looked at him over the top of Caitlin’s head and grinned, giving her one last hard squeeze before he pushed her roughly away. He knew at any time he chose; he could have the woman back. Harris would not dare challenge him.
“We have business. Let’s talk man,” he said as he followed Harris into the living room. Caitlin slunk quietly and quickly away. She knew her place.
“The boys haven’t come back yet. We need to get a few of the men together, saddle up the horses, and go find out what happened to them,” Bobby said as he took a sip of the coffee Caitlin brought them. He let his eyes linger on her for a moment before turning back to Harris. Horses were the main mode of transportation since the event. Gas was at such a prime; he greedily hoarded what little he had for the generator that kept his beer cold and his lights on.
Harris nodded. Shit, he didn’t want to go traipsing through the mountains to find them. But he also was smart enough not to say so. Bobby had a volatile temper and pissing him off would be a big mistake. They’d been friends since childhood; he’d seen what happened to those that dared cross Bobby. And since the event, the man had become even more unstable if that was even possible.
“Okay, who do you want me to grab?”
“I’m thinking you and me, and grab Kevin and Payson. They’re both strong fighters if we run into any trouble out there,” Bobby replied.
Harris nodded. Yes, Kevin and Payson were both good men to bring along.
“Okay, I’ll get the ball rolling. Meet back at your house say in an hour?”
Bobby grinned. “Yup, time to go hunting I think.” With one last lingering glance at Caitlin, he turned and walked out the door. Yes, he’d have to do something with her when he got back. Harris be damned. If he didn’t like it oh well.
Chapter Sixteen
Curt Macomber, Spike as his friends called him, planted one foot in front of the other as he sloshed his way through the mud. Those boys destroyed his life. Now it was time to pay up. He’d been days behind them all the way, and today he hoped to make up the miles and time.
He carried a long gun on his back and two short ones on either hip. He carried a knife on his belt, one in his boot and another inside under his jacket strapped to his chest. Hearing soft voices and heavy footsteps, he slid off the side of the trail and crouched behind a thick stand of scrabbly brush. Two women, a man, and a dog walked by him, oblivious to his presence. They were on the short trail that would lead them to Pinesly Hill Road, a short strip of blacktop just outside of town. He paid little attention to them. They were not his business right now. Right now, his business was finding the three men who’d come into his town, come into his house, and destroyed his life.
He was not the man he’d been a six months ago. Six months ago, before the event, he’d been a cop and a damn good one. He’d been an upstanding citizen, well liked and respected in his town. He’d been a father, a husband, a little league baseball coach. He’d been the leader of their church and ministry counselor. The event changed him. Life, hardship, death, lawlessness changed him. And today he became killer. He had nothing left to live for nor anyone left to care about. It was gone.
The three men had shown up in town. He’d paid little attention. He’d learned to mind his own business and mind his own family. He knew drugs were running in and out of the area. He knew there was human trafficking. All the things he would have stood against before the event. But there was no law anymore other than the law of survival.
So, he minded his own business even though he knew the trafficking of drugs and women were going on as well as other much worse things. Now karma it seemed came to pay him back for minding his own business thinking that if he did, no one would bother with him.
Things changed when those three men came to his house. Those three men raped and murdered his beloved Karen. Those three men murdered his four-year-old and seven-year-old sons because they could. He’d been gone, hunting for any wild game that he could find in the area. That was his mistake, leaving his family unprotected. But their mistake was in choosing his house to ransack; their mistake was choosing his family to kill. And he was now going to correct that mistake.
With each sloshing, muddy step, he felt his heart shatter over and over again until he thought the pain would kill him. His thoughts turned to Karen, his sweet, gentle wife. Her laughter, her tears, her fear echoed in his mind. An ache filled his heart as he longed to hold her a
gain, just one more time. What those pigs did to her gutted him.
He thought of his boys, the way Trevor, his four-year-old, would crawl into his lap at the end of each day and rest his little blonde head on his chest and fall asleep. And Jake, his seven-year-old, wanting to be a grown up and helping with a life that had gone from easy and carefree to troubled and hard. Those men put a bullet into each of his boy’s heads. And stealing the light of life from their eyes. Tears trickled down his face, and he angrily wiped them away with a shaking hand.
He buried the three of them together. Hours of mindless pain as he’d dug the grave. He wrapped them together in a white sheet smelling of bleach that Karen washed and line hung to dry. Wrapped the boy’s little arms around their mother so they could spend their eternal rest hugging each other. That day he left his humanity at the grave.
Chapter Seventeen
Beth woke and winced as the stiffness threatened to lock her joints. She slowly pulled herself from the tangled sleeping bag. The air was moist and humid, and she sighed in relief as she saw the sun beating down on the tent. The rain, thank God, had finally passed. She smelled wood smoke and knew Brian managed to get a fire going finally. Sucking in a breath against the pain in her ribs, she dressed quickly as thoughts of a hot cup of herbal tea, lured her out into the morning. Fire meant cooking, fire meant making medicine for Brian and Sarah.
The air smelled thick with smoke from the fire and of Pine and sunshine, and she took a deep breath then winced once again as pain from her ribs fired through her. She was sure at least two of her ribs were broken from the kick her attacker launched into her side. Sarah, seeing her expression of pain, moved gently beside her and looked at her with concern.
“No worries kiddo. I’m fine,” Beth lied. She smiled as Sarah reached out her hand and gently laid it against her cheek. Brian coughed, and both women turned toward him.
