All three of them had their eyebrows burnt off, their hair singed and their faces were red. The tribe was lucky they hadn’t lost four of their members.
Kodiak watched the glowing remains of their home and felt despair wash over him. Murray was dead, burned alive by that monster Gordon. The same Gordon he’d tried to help all those times before. The air rushed out of his body and he thought he was going to fall. Gordon hated them, he knew this, but to burn Murray alive? What kind of sick person did that? It was one thing to stand face to face and battle your enemy, it was another to torture and burn a helpless boy. Why did he keep coming after them? Why couldn’t he leave them alone? A wave of guilt hit him hard. He hadn’t been here to protect him, he’d been playing with a Nerf gun stealing kisses from Harper.
He knew he should say something but he couldn’t think of anything, he couldn’t put a sentence together and he wasn’t sure he’d ever know what to say.
They stared into the glowing embers as darkness fell, each lost in their own thoughts, their only comfort was each other. Sometime much later Harper urged them away from the ruins of their home and into the barn. They curled up in the hay and slept fitful sleep with dark dreams and silent tears.
Swan paced back and forth in front of the still smoking remains. Her sadness had been replaced with simmering rage. Gordon had come once again into their home to kill and destroy. Every time he was near, someone or something died. She’d known he was evil the first time she’d stared into his beady little eyes. She should have killed him when he was on his knees in his piss-soaked pants after the battle at the church. He was heartless and cruel and the world would be better off without him in it. She would make sure of that but first things first. Murray deserved a better resting place.
One by one the rest of the tribe joined her as they moved aside burnt boards, melted shingles and chunks of plaster. Most of the floor had caved in and filled the basement with rubble. The part that remained was dangerously weak, nails and broken bricks snagged their clothes and ashes swirled around them as they picked their way through the rubble.
Hour after hour they worked their way downward, cooling the ruins with buckets of water as they advanced. Barely a word was spoken and they were covered in wet ash and soot. Harper found the charred husk of Gordons’ man, the blade still lodged in the bone of his neck. They wrapped the remains in a blanket and unceremoniously dumped the body into the river. No one mourned or had fond memories to share. They didn’t know or care what his name had been.
“Rot in hell.” Swan said “I hope you died slow.”
It was the only words spoken at his funeral.
It was hard, dirty, dangerous work sorting through the rubble and the remains of the chimney were tilted at a precarious angle. A strong breeze might topple it. Tobias and Analise rooted through the ruins of the garden and found enough potatoes and carrots to make a stew. They had the meat in the smokehouse but nothing to season it with. Lunch was bland but everyone ate even though they didn’t have an appetite.
“Here.” Kodiak said a little while later and the crews working in different parts of the wreckage made their way over.
The bent wheel of Murray’s chair was exposed when he moved a chunk of plaster out of the way. The rubber tires and vinyl seat had melted away but the metal frame had shielded the boy from most of the debris. It had kept him from being crushed beyond recognition.
Murray lay curled in a fetal position, half buried in a pile of ash on the basement floor. Smoke and steam still rose from the embers around him. His skin was charred and blackened, brittle to the touch and he looked like a thousand-year-old mummy that had been unwrapped. He was so small laying there they could almost pretend that it wasn’t him. He held another tiny burned body in his arms. Sage. She was cradled tight to his chest.
The tribe stood silent. There were no words for this. No way to express the horror at what was left of their brother. They wrapped Murray’s remains in another gift shop blanket, taking care not to damage the fragile shell. They laid his curled body on a workbench but were afraid to try to straighten him. Afraid he might break in half. They gathered around and held hands but no one knew what to say. They’d thought they were safe behind their iron gates and tall fences. They’d learned how to deal with the undead, they had survived the attack of the savage ones and they had found a warehouse full of food. Murray said there were walled cities and the country was rebuilding. It had been so long since Gordon had bothered them that they thought he was gone for good. That he’d never be back. The future had looked so bright just a day ago. Life was as good as they could hope for. They realized just how wrong they had been.
Tobias wiped the tears from his face and grabbed a shovel hanging on the wall. Without a word he left the barn.
“Go help him.” Vanessa said softly “We’ll prepare him for his journey.”
Donny and Kodiak fell out of the circle, grabbed shovels and left with their heads down.
30
Farewell Old Friend
As they dug by the riverbank, Landon and Caleb hauled river stones to the site to cover the grave. Clara searched for flowers and filled a basket with them.
The girls had done all they could for Murray. They carefully cleaned the debris from his blackened body and wrapped him in an animal print blanket. They’d tied it with cord and wove fresh flowers into the knots. Sage still lay in his arms. They would be together forever.
Each of the tribe cleaned themselves up as best they could, but they were soot stained and smelled like smoke. They had nothing else to wear. It had all burned up with the house. It had been a long, depressing day and the sun was starting to drop over the horizon when the procession made its way to the gravesite. They carried his body on a plank and it weighed almost nothing. The three remaining capuchins were uncommonly still and quiet. They had lost Sage and their boy companion and clung to the triplets for comfort.
The ceremony was simple. They wore their armor, had their weapons and gave him a warriors’ funeral. They lowered him in the ground and said their goodbyes. Some with tears, some dry-eyed with anger bubbling just below the surface. They stacked a cairn of stones and lingered by the river, the mood somber, and their voices low.
“I know where he lives.” Swan said as she tossed pebbles into the water. “I found his address yesterday. A place called Smith’s Landing up in Minnesota.”
“Let’s get him.” Tobias said, fire in his voice. “Let’s end the bastard.”
“Hold on.” Kodiak said “We can’t go off halfcocked. We need to make a plan. We need to be careful.”
“We need to go kill him.” Swan said coldly. “It’s the only way.”
“Can we just go to the place Murray told us about?” Clara asked. “To the city where no one will try to hurt us anymore?”
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that.” Kodiak said. “There’s nothing left for us here.”
“I’m not going anywhere until justice is served.” Swan said and stalked off.
“I didn’t say we wouldn’t pay him back!” Kodiak yelled at her retreating back. “But we need a plan or more of us will get hurt or killed.”
“Your plans always seem to include letting him go.” Swan shot back then she was gone.
Kodiak whirled to go after her, hurt and angry at her jibe.
“Let her go.” Harper said and grabbed his arm. “She just needs to cool off.”
The tribe scuffed the ground with their shoes or looked at anything but him. It wasn’t right to be fighting in a graveyard. Kodiak sighed and hung his own head. She was right. He’d been the one to let Gordon live, not once but twice. It was his fault Murray was dead and their house was gone.
Swan was incensed, raging with anger as she stormed back to the barn, her wolves padding along beside her. Halfway back she realized there was nothing there for her. She was carrying everything she owned. Her bow, her tomahawks, her armor and her dirty clothes. She turned towards the back gate and was running with her pack
through the forest outside the fences before anyone realized she was gone.
She didn’t need a plan, didn’t need weeks of preparation. All she had to do was figure out which house was his and wait for him to step outside. An arrow would find its way into his face and bye bye Gordy. No more waiting. She’d end this herself then she’d go after the hyena. The laughing hunchback had a little payback coming too. After that, she might take her pack and leave for good, the others could go to Lakota. She couldn’t stand the idea of burying another one of them and if they stayed together it was inevitable. If you didn’t want to worry about someone, you left them behind. She was better on her own.
31
Tribe
The twins made one last breakfast over an open fire as the tribe double-checked their gear. They’d dug up more carrots and found a few ears of corn. The rabbit stew was still bland but it was filling. Once they were on the road, it might be a long time before their next hot meal.
Swan was gone. They had waited for her to cool down, blow off some steam and rejoin them but she hadn’t come back last night. When she didn’t show up for breakfast, they knew where she was headed. A map from the gift shop showed the little hamlet of Smiths Landing some thirty miles to the north. They could make it in a few days if they were careful and didn’t meet any huge hordes. They could make in a day if they ran.
Plans were discussed, ideas floated and rejected. Murray had always been the one to stay behind with the triplets. Kodiak wouldn’t leave them by themselves, they could be gone for weeks. The world outside the fences was dangerous, what if something happened and none of them made it back? It was possible. He didn’t want to leave anyone behind to care for them and in the end it was decided to take everyone.
“Where we go one, we go all.” Tobias said and Donny thumped his spear in agreement.
Kodiak didn’t like the idea of rushing into the unknown without a plan but he liked the idea of losing Swan even less. If he knew her, she’d figure out a weakness then attack the whole gated community single handedly. She had a twelve-hour head start on them, they had to hurry, try to catch her while she was still scouting.
The animals were saddled up and loaded with smoked meat and weapons, they knew what was ahead of them and everyone had painted their faces for battle. There was nothing to delay them and every minute counted. The county road meandered along the river, it twisted and turned for miles. Swan wouldn’t have followed it and neither would they, the most direct path cut through forests and fields. Kodiak gave Donny a nod and he set off at a jog, Yewan loping beside him. He would be able to move much faster through the woods without the tribe slowing him down. Swan was unpredictable and knew trails and shortcuts that no one else did. She might know of swampy areas to bypass or a pasture filled with the undead to avoid. The north was her hunting grounds but Yewan would be able to track her, follow the right trail. Donny would leave obvious markers for them to follow. A machete slash on a tree or trimmed branches pointing the way onward. Maybe he could catch her and slow her down until the rest of the tribe could catch up. If she was thinking clearly, she would realize they needed to scope out Gordon’s defenses, find the weak point then attack with their full strength.
They mounted their animals and Kodiak led them out of the back gate. They were going to end this once and for all. One way or another, in a few days, a week at the most, one band would be dead and the other celebrating the victory. What Gordon and his gang had done was unforgivable and he couldn’t be allowed to do it again. Madmen like him didn’t stop, they only got worse. There would be no mercy this time. They die or the tribe dies, but it ends either way.
32
Captured
Swan kept a steady pace as she ran down an old forestry service access road. It was a little out of the way but it bypassed the sprawling briar patch that stretched for acres. There was enough moonlight filtering through the trees so she could maintain her speed without fear of twisting an ankle. She’d wandered this road many times in her explorations, it narrowed and became a rutted four-wheeler trail once it crossed the Minnesota border. Rage and sadness vied to be the dominant emotion in her heart as she jogged. She pushed on, one foot in front of the other, and ate up the miles. The air was fresh and cool, she was in the best physical condition she’d ever been in and she could run for hours without tiring. There was a clean pond up ahead, she needed to refill her water bladder and let her pack drink.
She traveled light, just weapons and water. Food could be found, she knew which plants were good to eat. Meat was easy to get if she had time to cook it. Any abandoned house would have something inside, even if it was something she didn’t like. She wasn’t worried about going hungry but sometimes clean water was hard to find. The rivers and streams would make you sick, there were too many dead and undead in them.
They drank their fill and rested for a time. She snapped off a few cattail shoots and ate the hearts. It was a lot like asparagus, not her favorite food but it didn’t matter. It was nutrition. She prowled around the shoreline until she found a nest. She tested one of the eggs, made sure there wasn’t a baby duck inside then sucked down the yolks when there wasn’t. Her wolves would be fine, they could go weeks without eating.
Rested and refreshed, they raced silently onward, the miles falling away and the moon casting long shadows in the dirt. When the trail veered off to the west, they went over a fence and kept running north through overgrown cornfields. They came to a farmhouse facing a narrow one lane road. She’d been here many times, there was an upright piano in the family room and she practiced on it sometimes. She gave the wolves a minute to lap water from a cow trough and strained her ears to listen. Sound carried a long way without the noise pollution of the old world. She didn’t hear anything except the frogs croaking and the crickets chirping. She sat on a stump to rest her legs, checked the map by the moonlight to get her bearings and found the county road she wanted. She’d never been any farther North, didn’t know the lay of the land. She could follow the road for a few miles before it crossed a bigger road, one that lead on a pretty straight path up to Smiths Landing. Dawn was lightening the horizon but she was getting close, they had run about fifteen miles through the night. Not bad, she told herself. Not bad. That was more than a half marathon and she’d been fully armored, carrying weapons and wearing boots. She took a drink of water and calculated the time if she could keep up the pace. She should have that dirtbag in her crosshairs by early afternoon.
Skull peeked nervously around the curtains again and his eyes darted up and down the road, looking for their ride home or worse, another horde of the undead. They’d stayed hidden and still the first night when one came stumbling by an hour after the four wheelers had left them. He was in the living room of a single wide trailer where they’d spent the last day and a half. Those jerks should have been back by now, he’d bet money that Gordon was the reason for the delay. He was pissed off at him for crashing the Polaris. It wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t seen the pot hole. It jerked the steering wheel out of his hands and they wound up in the ditch. That wasn’t so bad. Ripping the tire off when he hit the driveway culvert was, though. He was the chauffer of the four seater model but how was he supposed to see it? They were running without lights. Gordon had flipped out and told Skull he could wait there until he could send someone back to get him.
“You, too,” he yelled at Blind Mike who had been in the back seat, “You should have been watching better!”
They could have doubled up with the others but nobody wanted to share. It was too far of a drive to be cramped up. Gordon took over one of the other quads and left them behind.
Somebody will come back to get you. He’d said. That had been yesterday. Maybe he wasn’t going to send anyone, maybe this was one of those cruel lessons and they would have to walk back. It was daylight again, the second long night was over. Mike and Skull were hungry and hungover from bottles of Old Crow they’d found in the cupboard. Whoever had lived here bought his rotgut by th
e case. The grill on the deck still had propane in the tank so they dumped cans of soup and a box of macaroni and cheese in a sauce pan then set it over the flames. Something in their bellies might make the pounding headache go away. Or it might make them throw up. That would probably be for the best.
Neither saw the shadow that flickered through the trees or heard the soft footfalls of padded feet. Blind Mike had broken his glasses months ago and squinted at everything and Skull’s headache was worse than ever.
“Somebody should have been back by now.” Mike said for the hundredth time. “I think we’re gonna have to walk.”
“It’s too far.” Skull complained, “It’s at least five miles, nobody can walk that far.”
Swan and the wolves held their position in the trees. She watched and listened. There were only two of them visible, but more could be inside. She’d found the broken Polaris abandoned on the highway and had barely avoided being spotted by the boys in the trailer. She was disappointed Gordon wasn’t one of them, but not surprised.
She watched for another ten minutes but when they split the soup between them, it was obvious they were the only two. They both had rifles leaning against the tin of the trailer so she would have to be patient. Maybe follow until they were tired and sink arrows into their backs when they weren’t paying attention.
“I’m gonna be sick,” she heard one of them say as he rushed into the house.
“Gross, man,” the other one yelled, “Now the place is gonna stink like barf! Why didn’t you puke outside?”
He cursed and stepped off the deck, flapping his hand in front of his face to wave away the smell. Swan kept a calming hand on her wolves and shushed the quiet growls in their throats. She doubted the boys could hear them; they were making all kinds of noise. They were acting as if they’d never been out in the wild before. They didn’t know the rules of survival. Mike slung his rifle and walked to the wooden shed at the end of the driveway. Maybe he’d get lucky and find an old pair of glasses in it. She knocked an arrow and tracked him. When he kicked the door open and started rummaging around inside, she slipped from the trees and moved swiftly through the overgrown field. When he stepped back into the sunlight his eyes went wide and his mouth dropped open. The wolf girl was grinning at him through a soot blackened face. She had a tomahawk in each hand and her pack was crouched, ready to spring. He was too shocked to move.
The Feral Children (Book 2): Savages Page 19
