Avalon- The Construction

by L. Michael Rusin

  Charles turned to the soldiers and Marines, gesturing to the camp in front of them.

  “This is our home and our security. I hope you enjoy our hospitality. There are some innocents here, I trust you’ll stay on top of your men and have them respect all of our women.”

  Eric looked at this man with a steady stare thinking about what he just said to him. He understood the meaning in his comment, and he said in a low voice so as not to broadcast his words to the others, which wasn’t hard because they walked on into the camp and began mingling right away.

  He turned to Charles and said,

  “You have my word on that. I’ll deal with anyone who violates your trust he turned to look over at the young women who were gathering around the soldiers and Marines. We appreciate your hospitality.”

  As Eric looked over the women in the camp, he was amazed at how nearly all of them were beauties. A few plain Janes, but he didn’t see a homely one in the bunch, contrary to what the lance corporal had said.

  They had a village set up. However, Eric and his men could improve on it vastly. He began formulating a plan immediately. It wouldn’t hurt to have the men working instead of staring at the women all day long and lying around. Work would keep them occupied and out of trouble. After today and this night he would have them working to improve the camp, and he was also thinking about the ammo and rifles he had that were extras. He would distribute them to make them more secure in their home. Along with that, he planned to show them a few tactics that would be useful in case of an attack.

  Tomorrow was another day. For now, he was thankful they had a safe place to sleep, home cooked food to eat; and the company was outstanding. Yes indeed, it was great to be with people after a couple of months with nothing but soldiers to look at and to talk to.

  Eric found a spot away from the fire and closed his eyes for the night, thoughts of another time floated by in his mind, the laughter of the women was like a melodic song that splashed through his thoughts and he had a smile on his lips as sleep enveloped him.

  Chapter 8

  The Box Canyon People

  It was a natural mountain meadow situated inside a large box canyon that had few outside visitors throughout the centuries, until recently. There was a suitable garden near the creek. Eric saw the residents had constructed eight nice-size huts for several families

  They had three shotguns and two .308 caliber rifles, but no more than fifty rounds of ammunition. Several people sported compound bows and arrows, and a few had crossbows. The rest of their defensive weapons consisted of hatchets and a few hunting knives.

  Off toward the far end of this box canyon was a large stand of trees covering about thirty acres. The canyon was at least three-square miles in size.

  “Our primary defense here is the entrance to this place, because it’s well concealed.”

  Charles beamed as he spoke.

  “You have to know it was there to find it, and though it was known throughout the ages by mostly robbers and renegade Indians, hardly anyone remembers it now.”

  “One of our people…”

  He paused and pointed to a teen-aged boy named Freddy,

  “He found it while hunting before the war started. He told his parents about this place, and they led the rest of us here right after the war started. It has been our salvation and our means to an end.

  “The creek is the source for all our water needs. We are fairly safe here. We go to the beach once every two weeks and spend a day or two fishing, then bring our catch back here. There’s only one way in and one way out. The entire area is completely surrounded by nearly vertical cliffs.”

  Eric was impressed with their survival skills.

  “Where did the lumber come from to build all these houses?”

  “We dismantled several houses out in the surrounding area and brought everything here piece by piece. It was a slow and tedious process, but the results have been remarkable. We just finished the bulk of the construction in the last few weeks. While we were taking the houses apart, we even saved the nails, straightened them as we started using them putting things back together.”

  The tour lasted for a couple of hours. Charles showed Eric the beehive oven the women used for cooking bread, and the waterwheel they constructed to help drive tools that would have formerly been operated by electricity. They had even constructed a foot-driven turntable to make pottery and a large kiln for firing.

  There was a gasoline-powered generator, but they used it sparingly, only when they needed a light in an emergency or a power tool that was essential to get a job done. Otherwise, it sat there untouched, waiting until a real need arose. Its gas had been treated so as not to gum up the carburetor after non-use. They had several solar panels that recharged a few batteries they used for flashlights and such.

  All in all, however, they were becoming accustomed to doing without much of what modern man had so readily had available at one time; things that people took for granted before the war, like electricity and tap water.

  Eric looked around in awe at what the group had accomplished with so little.

  “You people have my respect for what you’ve done here. The only suggestion I have is that you be more careful while at the beach. You should cook during the day and harvest the fish under the cover of darkness. Besides, fishing is better at night. No fires at night. It’s too dangerous. I would suggest you do all of your cooking here once you return. That way you’ll have less time down there on the beach. You’re more vulnerable there because of the cliffs.”

  Charles agreed and nodded his head. It was a good suggestion.

  Charles led Eric and his group of soldiers and Marines over to the group.

  “Please, introduce yourselves to our folks. We are thirty-five people, mostly young women. The youngest of the women is Charlene.”

  He gestured to a young girl standing off to the side.

  She blushed at the mention of her name.

  “She’s fourteen. The rest are at least sixteen or older. That is Sarah, she’s my wife.”

  He pointed to a pretty woman who smiled at them warmly.

  “We all live here in harmony. We seem to have enough to eat and we’re relatively safe so far, and we watch each other’s backs. I trust you and your men will do the same. Some of us have children, and we’ve rescued an occasional straggler we’ve encountered and have more or less adopted them.”

  He continued with a note of tension in his voice.

  “Eric, we have invited you and your men into our home. Please don’t give me any reason to regret that decision. I brought these young women into our fold because they had no one else to look after them. Most were trying to hide or were wandering aimlessly. We made a conscious effort to protect them from those who would do them harm. We live together here in peace as a large family and we get along fairly well most of the time. I would hate to see any harm come to any of us.”

  Eric smiled and nodded. He understood what Charles was saying and vowed to himself he would keep a tight rein on his troopers as best he could. It was easy enough during the daytime, but darkness might be a problem.

  The young girls seemed to be very friendly, and his troopers loved that. There was always that element of “boys will be boys” and “girls will be girls.” It’s sometimes difficult to control human emotions, and these young men had been deprived of any interaction with the opposite gender for quite a while. These were extreme times for all of them and the compulsion to live a life without thinking about any consequences was too easy, especially when they didn’t know if they would live from one day to the next.

  That night there was a great gathering of the survivors, soldiers, and Marines. One of the women played the guitar and sang songs from an older era of rock ’n roll. Little by little others joined the singing, and the group’s harmonizing lifted everyone spirits. One of the soldiers had a harmonica and joined in with the music. The meal consisted of fish, roasted chicken, bread from the beehive oven and fruit juice
made from wild berries. Everyone was having a good time and the merriment continued for several hours.

  Many of the soldiers and women began to pair up or gather in smaller groups. The laughter was like the tinkling of crystal chimes gently colliding in a soft breeze, almost melodic, and pleasant to hear. It was contentment on a large scale as it touched each person with a happiness, they all needed. The night air was pleasant and only a small wrap or a long sleeve shirt was needed to dispel the chill.

  Eventually several of the soldiers slipped away with some of the women. Two by two they melted into the night. No one seemed to notice, or at least they were not very concerned. Most of the soldiers were in their early twenties and were a hit with some of the teenage ladies. It was a diversion all of them needed. The music, songs, good friends and company of either a nice-looking woman or young man was a welcome way to top off the festivities.

  They had all been under stress from the war and the deprivation it had brought. A gathering of friendly people was welcomed, even though they were strangers. They quickly acted as if they had known each other for years. Things couldn’t have been better…until a piercing scream shattered the peaceful night.

  Charles jumped up to determine where it came from when one of the women came running into the camp. She was holding her obviously torn top together with one hand and she held her other hand to her mouth. A young soldier was right behind her in pursuit. The girl’s name was Susan, and she was crying hysterically.

  Several people jumped to their feet and ran to the distressed woman. Charles’ wife put an arm around her shoulders and held her close. The girl sobbed uncontrollably. There was blood on her breasts; the young soldier immediately melted back into the darkness, away from the campfires, and was gone before anyone could restrain him.

  After talking to some of the others, Eric determined the soldier was Corporal Al Gomez. He had slipped away with her earlier in the evening. They had all been having a good time— That is, until this woman ran back into the camp sobbing hysterically.

  “I kept telling him no,”

  Susan wailed,

  “But he wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t what I wanted to do.”

  Eric yelled out to the other soldiers,

  “Spread out and look for him; don’t let him get away!”

  The young soldier was nowhere to be found. He left in such a hurry that he didn’t grab all of his gear. Next morning, Eric gave it all to the canyon people, along with it three M-16 rifles, some ammo, and several grenades. He decided it would be best for them to move on.

  It was both with sadness because of the tragic event of the previous night, and a reluctance by the canyon people to relinquish the protection these armed soldiers offered them. Charles showed them the way to the entrance, and once outside the natural tunnel through the rocks, Eric decided to head away from the group to see if they could find anything of value.

  Most of the soldiers were reluctant to leave. Some vowed revenge on Gomez if they ever saw him again for ruining a good thing, and for dishonoring the trust they had been given.

  Al Gomez resisted the urge to break out into a full run. It was dark, and he could easily fall or run into something and suffer a serious injury.

  “No,”

  He said to himself.

  “If I can’t see, neither can the others if they come after me.”

  He had no doubt that they would come for him. He realized he made a bad decision by raping a young girl, but he didn’t have any real regrets and would do it again if given another opportunity. He had a hard time finding the exit from the camp in the darkness but once he made his way into the tunnel, he was home free.

  Survival was his only concern. He would head to the highway and see if he could hook up with the motorcycle riders, he heard passing on the highway one night on the beach. It would take him a while to get to the highway, but once he got there all he had to do was wait. It was, after all, his only option after what he had done.

  He doubted that any of the soldiers would come after him in the dark, but he kept moving west, just in case. He realized he wouldn’t get sympathy from any of the soldiers, especially Eric, who was a “Dudley do-right” anyway. He had needs of his own and he had taken care of them. Too bad if some of them couldn’t understand that. Regardless, he walked a little faster in the night.

  When he arrived at the highway, he found a place to wait, and would sleep there until morning light. There was no traffic on the road. All he could hear was the breaking surf on the beach down below the cliffs. A cricket signaled to a female with a steady inviting shrill sound.

  He laughed and said to no one in the darkness,

  “I hear you Bud—Getting laid is where it’s at.”

  The stars above him were a brilliant spread of billions of twinkling lights that were occasionally interrupted by a shooting star that would suddenly make its presence known, streaking blatantly across the sky in a blaze of illuminated splendor for a second and then would disappear as suddenly as it had arrived.

  The night was long and lasted for what seemed an eternity before the rising sun steadily revealed things that had been concealed by the darkness. He remained alert as best he could. He knew that if Eric and the others caught up to him it wouldn’t be pleasant. He regretted leaving his rifle and ammo behind, but he still had his side arm and several loaded magazines. They should be adequate for now. What choice did he have? He wondered how long he would have to wait for someone to come along.

  Around noon, as he was walking north, he heard them coming from behind. A steady rumble turning into a roar as the bikers came closer. There were about twenty of them. He stood there as they came nearer. Several went past him before any of them pulled over and turned off their motors. Some had women on the seats behind them. Most of the women were, in his opinion, skinny and ugly.

  One of the bikers put his kickstand down and swung a leg over and off the seat. He stared at this lone soldier with a look that didn’t appear to be very friendly. Other bikers pulled off the road and turned off their motors as well. Several bikers that had already passed by came back and stopped, surrounding Al Gomez. One of them approached him with a shotgun resting on his shoulder.

  “What’s your story?”

  He let the pump-action fall into his other hand.

  “It better be good. Start talking soldier boy.”

  Al told the guy about Eric and the other soldiers, the trip coming down from Washington State, the survivors on the beach, and how he got here. He left out the other part about the rape.

  “Can you lead us to where these women are right now?”

  “We were originally shown the location by their leader and it was dark when I left last night. I was just following along and I’m not sure that I can find it again.”

  It was a truthful statement.

  “It was complicated getting there. I know it’s about a three-hour walk from here. Getting into the main camp is tricky and it’s well-hidden. You would have to know where certain places are to get there. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t find it again. If I did it would just be an accident.”

  “Why did you leave your fellow soldiers?”

  “Because I’m tired of being a soldier. There’s nothing in it for me now. I guess you could say I’m a free thinker now.”

  The skinny biker stared at the soldier for a moment and then spoke up,

  “Sounds like an honest answer to me. Hop on one of the bikes and come with us to Crescent City. We need experienced soldiers in our group. My name is Slasher, and these here are my boys.”

  Al walked over to one of the bikes and the man nodded and he hopped on the back.

  They all started up their machines and took off in a roar toward the north. In a few hours they would be at the main slaver’s camp and he would get a chance to tell his story to their leader, Bone Breaker.

  ◆◆◆

  Eric and his men moved inland for a few hours. It was a wasted trip of desolation. A few deserted homes and busin
esses were all they found. They headed back toward the beach; at least there was food there.

  Once near the breaking surf they would continue south to San Francisco. They were oriented for now; it was another two or three days at most. Eric was disappointed they had not found Gomez. He would’ve killed him himself if they had caught him.

  Eric had a pretty good idea they wouldn’t find him. What a pity.

  Scum like him—a rapist and a deserter—needed to be killed.

  Chapter 9

  Return to the Box Canyon

  Eric and his men were making their way toward the beach when they came across a sight none of them would never forget. A woman, a man, and two small children lay collapsed on the ground. They might’ve been missed if the woman hadn’t cried out in pain.

  They approached her. One of the soldiers was reaching for a canteen when she weakly cautioned them,

  “Don’t come near! We’re all sick. It came on us suddenly this morning and we’re already dying. Stay away, and don’t touch us. Don’t even breathe our sickness into your body.”

  She collapsed and appeared to have stopped breathing. Eric took out his field glasses and saw that the four of them were covered in purple pimples that oozed pus. It was a terrible sight, and Eric had no desire to go any closer. After all, what could he and his men do for dead people, or people almost dead?

  There was a voice screaming in his head, warning him to stay clear of these people, and he was more than content to listen to it. Perhaps they had been infected with some sort of poison. When a Medic, coming up from the rear of the group started toward the small group, Eric warned him away.

  “There isn’t anything we can do for them. Let’s head for the beach.”

  “Aren’t we going to bury them?”

  The Medic asked,

  “No there isn’t anything we can do for them now.”

  Eric said sadly shaking his head.

  They gave the people a wide berth and went around them. When they finally reached the beach highway, they took a much-needed break. From their vantage point here, they could see people lying in the surf. Most were face down. Eric used his field glasses to assess the situation. He was close enough to see the bodies were covered in purple oozing pimples and all of them appeared to be dead.