by S A Ison
“It’sa good thang I’s brought me some rope Dale, I’s spec we gonna have us a good ol fashion hangin.”
The other man laughed, he had dark brown hair that was matted to his head. He had an eyeball tattooed on his throat and a swastika under his left eye.
“You’uns knowd? I ain’t never not hunged no body, cep for them thar Mixcans. They’s done did scream lots, specially that thar boy. It sho was fun an that momma, she was fun afor we hunged her.” Dale laughed, his blue eyes burning down into Boggy’s face.
Boggy’s heart was beating hard, and fear nearly took him over until he felt the Ruger digging into his armpit. He started crying, to give himself time, but also to grieve for Angela’s family. This was the bastard who’d hung them, and he’d also raped Mrs. Santo.
“Oh, this here chicken shit boy is a cryin Randy, maybe he done think we’s a gonna rape him.” Dale laughed.
“That don’t sound half bad, I’s ain’t had a woman ina long a time.” Randy said.
“Is you’uns queer? Shit boy.” Dale said, apparently shocked, his mouth hanging open.
“No’d I’s ain’t a quar, but you knowed, ain’t nobody’s knowd but us.” Randy said turning bright red.
While the two argued back and forth, Boggy slipped his hand, which had been beneath him into his shirt. He felt the gun and pulled it from the holster. He could feel the blood running from his head. He saw that Dale had a branch, which he’d used as a club. Boggy pulled the gun out and he felt for the safety and slid it off.
He rolled slightly and pulled the gun from beneath him. He shot Dale first in the chest, and Randy screamed and jerked back as warm blood sprayed his face. He was about to turn and Boggy shot him in the side of his chest. Randy went down heavily beside Dale, who was still alive.
Boggy got up, staggered, and then stood, he was still crying. He wiped at the blood and tears that were covering his face. He walked to the two prone men, Randy was gasping, the bullet having entered his lungs but had not exited. There was a large bloody stain growing on his shirt.
“What… Wha’t ya go in do that fir?” he said, trying desperately to catch his breath. Boggy brought up the weapon and Randy tried to scream, raising his arm, but Boggy pulled the trigger and unleased a 9mm shot the man between the eyes.
He walked over to Dale, who lay looking up at him, hate in his eyes. There was blood coming out of the corner of his mouth. Boggy aimed the gun lower, and shot the man between the legs. Dale howled in pain, the dark stain spreading across his crotch and thighs.
“That’s for Mrs. Santo an her family.” Boggy said in a dead voice. He holstered the gun and stumbled to the pond. He dropped to his knees and brought a hand full of water to his face. He closed his eyes as pain washed over him. He felt his gorge rise and he turned and vomited on the grass. He brought a shaking hand full of water to his mouth and washed it out and spit the water onto the grass.
He took the hem of his shirt and wiped at his face. There was still blood trickling down. He got up and staggered toward the two downed men. He stooped over and grabbed Randy’s feet. He began to pull Randy by his feet, he pulled and tugged, stopping twice to vomit. It took time, but Boggy had pulled the body away from the stream and pond. He didn’t want the rotting body to pollute the waters.
He staggered back for Dale, who was still alive and moaning and crying. He walked up to the man, his eyes cold when he looked down at him. He walked around the man and kicked Dale in the crotch, causing Dale to scream, his hands trying to protect his bloody groin. Boggy grabbed him by the feet and began to pull him into the forest, intending to put him by his friend. Dale moaned and cried as Boggy dragged him.
“Ain’t you’uns a gonna kill me?” Dale cried, his head bouncing up and down on the uneven ground. Boggy didn’t answer, he just kept pulling the man. It took nearly twenty minutes. Boggy could feel the sweat pouring off his face, mixed with the blood. His shirt was covered now in blood, soaked. His long legs screamed at the abuse and his head pounded. He hoped he wouldn’t black out.
He finally made it to the other body. He sat on a rock for a moment, breathing heavily. He spit out a bit of blood and wiped at the blood and sweat off his face once more with the bottom of his loose shirt. His eyes looked at Dale, the man was still alive. He took out his weapon and aimed it at Dale’s midsection, he shot two times and each time Dale screamed.
“I’s killed you, but you’uns ull take a bit ta die. An I’s a hope’n that maybe sommat might come an eat ya afore you’uns do die.” Boggy grinned down at the man, who could no longer speak, but grasped his belly, pooling with blood. Boggy leaned forward and spit into the man’s eyes.
Boggy turned and walked back to the pond, he paused several times, squatting, trying not to vomit. He wiped again at his face. When he got back to the pond, he took out his water and drank it slowly. He sat on the ground and cried. His thin shoulders shook. He'd come so close to death. But he’d lived. And he’d avenged the Santo’s family. He took another drink, then forced himself up. He walked to the pond and he let the fish go and packed his gear up and turned for home.
He felt rage and sorrow but he also felt a deep sense of satisfaction on Angela’s behalf and that of the Santo’s family. He’d avenged them in a small way. He hoped that Dale would live long enough for a bear or coyote to come and gnaw on him a bit before he did die. A savage smile curled on his face. He felt no regret what so ever.
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Mary woke slowly, her eyes blinked open and she wriggled her body around on the soft mattress. She’d never thought she’d feel a mattress again, or breathe clean air, or clean sheets. Tears welled in her eyes, such simple things, things she’d not even thought of before. She sat up slowly, and placed her hands on her belly. She blinked her eyes and could feel grit in them. She knuckled each eye, knowing it was the blasted coal dust.
It had been the baby to wake her, it was moving around a lot and she was so thankful. She had feared she’d lose the baby down in that hellish hole. She looked around the room, it must be the girl’s room, there were two twin beds, with flowered comforters on them. She hadn’t really noticed, she was so exhausted when she’d gone up to the room. She’d been asleep before her head hit the pillow.
There were stuffed animals, posters and all the girly girl things that many girls decorated their rooms with. It was a bright room and it made her smile. The memories of the horrible darkness were starting to slide away.
She looked at her hands, they still had coal dust in the creases of her joints and in her nails. She’d seen her face in the mirror and she hadn’t even recognized herself. A sob caught in her throat. If David hadn’t gotten her out of there, she knew she would have died there. She knew her husband would have liked David a lot. If she had a boy, like they’d said, she’d name him Howard David Deets.
She got up slowly and made her way downstairs. She’d slept almost five hours and it was just after noon. Jutta was in the kitchen, making the afternoon meal for the workers. She smiled at Jutta who reached over with flour covered hands and hugged her.
“Have a seat, there’s some fried apple pies on the platter and some more milk.” Jutta nodded.
“You sure you don’t need help?” Mary asked, taking a seat at the large farm table. The table was heavy oak, its top was nearly satin smooth from years of use. The table was cluttered with a large basket of eggs, a large glass cylinder jar of flour, a pitcher of milk, spices, two chickens that had been plucked and cut up, and a large bowl of string beans, which Trina was snapping. She smiled shyly at Mary.
“The girls are all the help I need, you relax and get stronger. We got this.” Jutta smiled.
Milly came in with a large basket of potatoes, she came to the table with a sharp knife and sat down. She pulled a large potato out and began to peel skillfully. She too smiled shyly at Mary and Mary returned her smile. The kitchen was bright and airy, with windows that covered one wall. She could see out to the fields and pastures.
Jutta turne
d and poured a cup of coffee and put more milk in it, then she handed it to Mary and grinned. “There’s some coffee with your milk, sugar’s in the sugar bowl if you like. I spect it’s been a while.”
“Oh, this is nice.” Mary cooed softly and sipped the coffee. She hunched her thin shoulders forward and tried to wrap herself around the cup, letting the steam rise into her face. She inhaled sublimely, a soft smile curving her mouth.
Jutta laughed, “Yeah, I love my coffee too, and when I was pregnant, they tolt me I shouldn’t have it, but I drank some with my milk and as you can see, it didn’t hurt the babies none.” She grinned, nodding at her two daughters, both miniature images of her.
They all laughed softly and everyone got busy with the meal. Mary reached over and took a potato and Jutta gave her a knife. She began to peel, enjoying the simple task. It was quiet but for Jutta’s soft humming.
“Where are Jack and Robert?” Mary asked, looking around.
“They’re outside playing, I have Leon keeping an eye on them. Figured they could do with some sunshine and play. Fed them up a bit of apple pie and milk as well. That seemed to pep them up.” She laughed. The girls joined in, giggling and looking at each other, the tips of their ears turning pink, like tiny mouse ears, delicately shelled.
The door opened and all women looked over and saw the large form of David. He looked at the women and when his eyes found Mary, his smile broadened. His eyes going to triangles of joy.
“Come on in David, have some coffee.” Jetta invited.
David kicked the dust off his boots and stepped into the kitchen. He accepted a cup of coffee which nearly disappeared in his large hand. When she picked up the pitcher of milk, he grinned and shook his head, then took a sip. A low groan emanated from deep within his chest, his eyes closing.
The women tittered and Jutta flushed with pleasure. She handed him an apple pie, the flaky crust perfection. Mary thought he might cry, and he took a bite and stomped his foot and shook his head.
“Jutta, will you marry me?” he asked and all the women burst into laughter, Jutta turning bright red but grinning widely.
“This is wonderful, thank you. I wanted to let you know that we got about thirty more minutes, Gerhard said ta let you know.” David said, then took a sip of his coffee.
“That sounds good, lunch should be ready around then.” She said, smiling still.
David nodded, he looked at Mary, “You feeling better Mary? We were really worried about you.” David said, his face solemn.
Mary smiled at him, “I’m feeling more human now, than I have in a long time. It feels so good to breathe fresh air and not feel that oily grit all over me.”
“Yeah, I’d say you’re right on the money with that. I’ll head back out. Ladies.” He said putting the empty cup on the counter and he nodded and left them.
“He is the sweetest man, I’ll swear.” Jutta said, blushing. Her daughters giggled and nudged each other and she shot them a look. Mary buried a smile in her coffee cup. She thought that perhaps Jutta had a tiny crush on David. He was indeed a sweet man. She watched him as he headed out of sight.
Once more she didn’t know what she would have done without his help and his support. She was sure she’d have sunk into a deep depression. Her mind went to Howard, he’d been gone only a month or so, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed in the coal mine. She shivered and Jutta looked up at her and she smiled, pick up a potato and started peeling once more.
Life was so strange, she’d gone through most of her life in peaceful bliss. Howard had shielded her from a lot of the ugliness in the world. As had her parents. But when she’d been manhandled by the men and thrown into that pit, life became crystal clear. There were good men and there were bad men. She just hoped that the good men out numbered the bad, or life would be hard and brutal.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Vern Smalls got off his horse, he was going to different houses gathering food supplies. Guns if there were any. He was also looking for the bastards who were shooting up their people. He spat a long stream of dark liquid, a lump of chew in his lip. He stood looking around a moment. Many of the homes were abandoned. From the looks of them, they’d also been looted.
He wondered at the windows that were broken, why break windows? He shook his head and walked up the sidewalk of a prospective home. The grass was becoming overgrown. He didn’t hear any children or dogs and wondered at it. He came up to the porch and knocked. He listened and heard movement within. He knocked again, this time drawing his service weapon.
“This is Officer Smalls, from the Beattyville police department. Open your door, I only wish to speak with you.”
Slowly, the door opened and a young woman peeked around the door opening. He shoved the door open wider, knocking her back. He stepped into the house, his eyes darting everywhere.
“Why didn’t you open it when I knocked the first time?” he asked, annoyed.
“I didn’t know who you were.” She said simply.
He scrutinized her up and down and saw two boys, playing in the living room, they looked to be about eight and nine. He looked for her husband, if she had one but didn’t see anyone else.
“Where’s your husband?”
“We’ve not seen him since the power went out. He’d been in Lexington and we’re hoping he will come home soon.” She said, her voice cracking.
Vern looked at her closely, she was young and pretty.
“You know anything about the killings that have been going on? Raids against our people?” he asked, watching her eyes.
She shook her head, confused. “No, I don’t leave my home, it is too dangerous out there.”
“Fine. Fine, I need to confiscate any fire arms you may have. Also, I will need some supplies from your pantry.”
“What? You want my food? I don’t have much, and I have two small boys. I can’t give you any food, I need it for them.” She said, her voice beginning to rise.
Vern looked over into the living room, the two boys had stopped playing and looked at their mother, fear in their eyes. He swore under his breath. His knuckle rubbed hard on his upper lip, thinking.
“Well, I’m authorized by the president to take what I need for the town.” He said, then looked at the boys once more. He lowered his voice, “However, if we were to, say go back to your bedroom. Maybe send the boys outside to play in the back yard for a time. I might be persuaded to forego the food supplies. I might also be able to stop from time to time to protect your home, for the night.” He said, an oily smile on his face.
The woman looked at him and then to her two children. Tears beginning to well up in her eyes. She cleared her voice several times before she could speak.
“Boys, why don’t you two go out and get some fresh air. Go play in the back yard, but don’t go any farther. You hear?”
“Yes mam.” They said in unison and got up from their toys on the floor. Both boys went out into the back yard and Vern could see them on their swing set. He turned and smiled like a well satisfied crocodile.
“Lead the way my dear.” He laughed.
She walked ahead of him, he could hear her crying now, louder. It didn’t bother him. In fact, he thought perhaps this could be very nice for him. Perhaps there were all kinds of women out there, without their men. They might need his protection as well. He might as well get something for his troubles. After all, he was putting his life on the line, making sure the streets were safe. He chuckled to himself as he began to unbutton his shirt. He closed the door softly behind him.
Yes, this could work out very well, he thought.
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Harry had just finished chopping wood. He and Boggy had dropped some trees thirty feet back from the tree line. Boggy had come back from his fishing trip, bloodied and Harry had come across him first. Boggy had wept when he told Harry about the men, especially Dale, who’d raped and hung Mrs. Santo and her family.
Harry had taken Boggy to Willene, and she had put a butterfly bandage his he
ad after she’d cleaned him up. When he’d told her about the men, she had smiled grimly, “Good, I hope that bastard suffered a mauling from a hungry bear.” She’d said. The word passed around their small family and Boggy had received hugs and pats on the back. That had been nearly two weeks ago.
Harry and Willene had kept an eye on the young man. But he seemed to be doing better. The first few days he was a little nauseated. Willene and Katie worried that he might have a concussion. He was babied and hugged and seemed to enjoy the attention from the women. Harry smiled. Who didn’t like being cared for? But Boggy had leveled out with his emotions.
Harry noted that Clay and Earl would go and pat Boggy on the back from time to time. The manly equivalent of a hug of reassurance. Harry knew it hadn’t been hard to pull the trigger on animals like that, but afterwards, when it was replayed in Boggy’s mind, which Harry was sure it did, that was when the real emotions surface.
When your life is in jeopardy, all emotions go to the back, while fight or flight comes to the fore. Boggy had fought for his life, but he’d also had the presence of mind to extract vengeance for the family done so wrong. Harry was proud of the young man. He was also glad that Boggy seemed to be moving past the episode.
Harry was pretty sure that it would happen again and again with the movement of strangers passing by their home. He was surprised that it had been as quiet as it had. He knew that peace wouldn’t last long. They had spent a few minutes in the evening, listening in on the shortwave radio, but heard nothing. He’d turn the dial slowly, but so far, he’d picked up no chatter.
He was sure people were on the move now. Time didn’t stand still for the hungry and desperate. The ten people who’d come by had only been the first. He was hoping with distance in the mountains would slow the masses down. It had for a time. It was going to be an ever-rolling tide of humanity.
Harry stood for a moment, wiping the sweat from his face. He looked around him. The trees that had been felled would sit there for a year. They had used the chainsaws, it was the fastest way to bring down the large trees. They had to pause to sharpen the teeth of the chainsaws in between the cutting of several trees.
