“We need more weapons,” Savannah whispered to Malachi.
“My dad will never go for that.”
“We have to be able to defend ourselves!” she insisted. “Two guns isn’t enough!”
“What do you suppose we use for another weapon?” he asked. “It’s not as if we can pick guns off of a tree.”
“We could make spears with tree branches or get heavy branches to use as bats.”
Malachi thought about her suggestion for a moment before nodding. “I’ll talk to my dad,” he said, stepping up his pace to move ahead to talk with his father.
Savannah watched their exchange but wasn’t surprised when the man shook his head. His stubbornness was going to get them all killed.
She wasn’t about to go down without a fight, though. She might only be a fourteen-year-old girl, but she was tough. She knew how to shoot, too, and would take the gun from Bill if she had to. Tim had the revolver, but those two men carrying guns didn’t make her feel safe. She’d seen the way Bill handled the gun and knew he wasn’t experienced. She doubted he could hit a moving target—maybe not even a still one, if it wasn’t close. Uncle Ennis had always told her a newbie with a gun was far more dangerous than a trained sniper, and she had no reason to doubt him.
For now, however, she’d arm herself with a spear—no matter what Jim said about it. She knew Bill had a folding knife and asked to borrow it as they moved. With that in hand, she picked up a branch about four feet in length and began to sharpen one end as she walked.
“That’s a good idea,” Bill said. “When you’re done, I want to make one for my wife.”
Jim had seen what she was doing but didn’t try to stop her. The scowl on his face made his thoughts on the matter clear enough, but maybe he understood they were past the discussion point on this matter. Malachi had already begun scouting the area for his own branch, as well as picking up medium-sized rocks and sticking them in his pocket. Savannah finally saw Jim do the same. Soon, all of them were armed with sticks, crude spears, and rocks. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had. As they moved, of course, Jim regularly assured them God was their real protector.
Savannah wasn’t going to argue with him, but she preferred having an actual weapon in her hand in case God was busy.
26
Malachi did his best to encourage his father to keep moving when he talked about settling in and making camp for the night; his father had said they’d walk on into the night, but then they’d come across a field that had remnants of potato plants. It had nearly been picked clean, though, and there was no protection in the open field. He believed Savannah, and knew she was scared. He was, too. They’d seen what had happened at the church and had been hearing the stories of the executions happening all over the area. It wasn’t safe for them. Worse, he now realized that it had been stupid and naïve of his father to openly preach when they knew it was dangerous.
“It’s getting dark,” Savannah whispered from beside him.
“Do you think we should stop for the night?” he asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do,” she replied, her voice laced with fear.
“Malachi, we’ve been walking all day. We need to rest,” his mother said.
He took a deep breath. His mom and dad were both looking to him for guidance instead of the other way around. They were way out of their element—that was becoming more and more clear to him as each day passed—and had no idea what to do. Malachi was just glad his mother seemed to be in better health. The temperatures had been warm, and fortunately, they’d been able to do a lot of flat-ground walking as they’d crossed prairie land with lots of corn, wheat, and bean fields covering the landscape. They’d also passed a sign earlier in the day announcing that they were two hundred miles from Denver. It felt like they were so close, knowing how far they’d come. He wanted to get there and be done, but knew this last part of the journey was going to be long and hard as they steadily climbed in elevation.
“Okay,” Malachi finally said, “let’s find somewhere to rest for a bit, but no fire. We can’t alert them to where we are,” he said.
“Someone should keep watch,” Savannah chimed in.
He nodded. “I will.”
“You can’t stay up all night. We’ll all take shifts,” his father said.
Malachi was glad that his father wasn’t arguing as he scanned the area that was quickly fading into twilight. The problem was that they’d moved into flat country. There weren’t a lot of trees to provide cover.
“Over there,” Savannah said, pointing to a corn field just a bit further into the distance, beyond the near barren area of potato plants.
“It’s the best we’re going to find out here,” Malachi said.
The group dragged their feet as they cut across the one-lane dirt path the farmers would have used to get to the fields. Huge watering circles stretched across the wide expanse. Seeing them, Malachi remembered that they’d gone through the last of their water earlier in the day. He knew they were all on the verge of dehydration and would need to find water first thing in the morning.
“Bill, do you think you could open that end?” Malachi asked, pointing to the huge sprinkler in front of him.
Bill studied it. “I can. I’ll use a rock. There should be water left in there. We’ll need to boil it, though.”
“No fire,” Savannah chimed in.
Malachi looked at Bill. “Do you think it will be safe to drink?”
Bill hesitated, mulling it over. “I don’t know if it’s worth the risk without boiling it,” he muttered.
“I’m thirsty. I’ll drink whatever I can,” Bonnie grumbled.
“It’s irrigation water. It isn’t safe,” Jim chimed in.
Malachi weighed the risks and made the decision. “We’ll get the water and boil it with a small fire.” He glanced to Savannah and could see she wanted to argue, but they needed water. She nodded once after meeting his eyes, and he hoped his expression communicated that they’d keep the fire as small and as brief as possible.
The corn stalks were only waist high, but they’d provide some cover should that group still be following them. Malachi hadn’t seen or heard them since Savannah had returned, but they couldn’t be sure there weren’t others out there, or even that the original group wasn’t still following them. His father might have doubts, but he believed her when she said they were searching for them. For that reason, he knew they had to hide as best they could.
The fire was quickly made, using some of the dry, dying corn to fuel it. The single pot they had meant it took much longer than he was comfortable with to get enough water boiled for everyone to get a drink, though.
Once everyone had quenched their thirst, they kicked a heavy layer of dirt over the fire, completely extinguishing it. Then, Malachi took a seat on the soft earth at the edge of the cornfield. Everyone else was behind him, already fast asleep in beds made on the hard ground, stalks sprouting up between them. His eyes searched the area, looking for any movement in the dark. There was a strange feeling in the air that he couldn’t quite explain. He could practically feel the danger lurking, hiding in the darkness.
His shift went slowly, and then he had trouble sleeping after passing the responsibility on to Bill. Nearly as soon as he lay down on his own mat, it seemed he was hearing Bill approach the mats to wake up the next watchman. That decided it then. There was no point in his lying here awake while someone else could be sleeping; he might as well be the only one to go sleepless.
“I’ll take watch,” he said as he sat up.
“It’s your dad’s turn,” Bill whispered.
“Let him sleep. I’m already awake. I want to watch the sunrise,” Malachi assured him.
Malachi sat down in the same spot he’d been at the beginning of the night. He stared at the horizon, the first glow of light from the sunrise already showing itself in the distance. He was just admiring the beauty of it all when the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It
was the only warning he had.
A gunshot rang out, and a split second later, he felt a bullet buzz past him.
“Stay down!” he shouted, hearing the crack of what he guessed was a rifle.
He dropped to his stomach.
“Malachi!” his mother screamed.
“Stay down!” he shouted.
“They’re in there! Get them!” a male voice shouted, his words followed by the sounds of pounding footsteps.
In a flurry of movement, the people behind him all got to their feet, their makeshift weapons in hand as they prepared to take their sticks to a gunfight.
“Bill! Bill!” he heard Bonnie scream.
“Shh,” he hissed, not wanting her to alert their attackers to her specific position.
“He’s dead!” she screamed.
“The gun, where’s the gun?” Savannah cried out, the sound of her voice indicating that she was on the move.
He could hear the crunching of corn stalks being trampled from all around them. Malachi aimed his spear outward, ready to attack his unseen enemy.
Suddenly, there was a flash of movement a few feet to his left. He spun around, his spear pointing outward as he jabbed at the shadowy figure advancing on him. He could hear his mother sobbing in the background, crying out for help, and the sound of his father praying for protection. Before he could think to respond, Malachi was hit from behind by something hard and stumbled forward, barely catching himself from falling face first to the ground before he spun around again and jabbed his attacker with his spear. The feeling of hitting a human was sickening.
Still, he heard the scream and pushed harder, silently praying for forgiveness as he tried to kill the person. When he felt no more struggling, he yanked his stick back and went in search of his family, scattered throughout the cornfield.
“Leave us alone!” he heard Savannah shout a second before a loud shot rang out, telling him he was close.
“Savannah!”
“I’m here!” she yelled, bursting through the corn, her image backlit by the faint pink and orange glow radiating from the rising sun.
“Watch out!” he cried, seeing a man racing towards them.
Savannah spun around, raised her arm, and fired the gun in her hand. The man dropped to the ground.
Malachi didn’t get much time to think about what had happened; he was hit from the side and tackled to the ground. He swung out, punching and kicking with everything he had.
“Get off him or I’ll shoot,” Savannah said in a low voice.
The bearded man that was on top of Malachi stopped hitting him and jumped to his feet, backing away as Savannah aimed Bill’s gun at him.
The relief of being saved was short-lived. Another shot erupted from the rifle, and then he heard his mother’s scream.
“Mom!” he cried out, racing towards the sound.
Savannah’s warning to stay back echoed through the air, quickly followed by the loud boom of the gun she was holding. There was another shot then, and then a lot of yelling. Malachi spun around, looking to see who was still standing.
“They’re leaving,” Savannah announced, running towards Malachi.
He scanned the area and saw Gretchen consoling Bonnie. He couldn’t find his mother anywhere.
“Mom!” he shouted again.
He could hear her sobbing, repeating his father’s name over and over again.
“There!” Savannah pointed deep into the heart of the field, to directly underneath one of the giant sprinklers.
He raced towards the spot, now glimpsing his mother on her knees. Savannah was right behind him, and she skidded to a stop with him when he came to a dead stop upon seeing what had his mother so upset. His father lay against her lap, blood trickling out of his mouth, his chest awash in bright red blood.
“Dad?” he whispered.
Savannah stood beside him, and he looked at her, tears filling his eyes before he spun and rushed to drop down next to his father. His mother was rocking back and forth, a low keening sound slipping through her lips as tears poured down her face.
Malachi reached for his father’s hand. “Mal,” his father whispered in a voice so low Malachi could barely hear him.
“I’m here, Dad, I’m here.”
“Take care of your mom. Get her home,” he grunted.
“Dad, please, please don’t leave us,” Malachi begged him, gripping his hand and then his arm, trying to bring more awareness back into his eyes, but they were going blank already.
His father gave his hand a weak squeeze before going lax, and Malachi knew he couldn’t do anything else. He could only stare at his father’s lifeless body and weep. His heart broke fully in two as he listened to his mother wail behind him. She sounded like a wounded animal, her voice breaking as she prayed to God not to take her husband.
When he could see straight through the tears, he looked up, meeting Savannah’s eyes and seeing the tears sliding down her cheeks, as well. She’d tried to warn them. She had told them what was coming. He only wished they would have listened better. They should have run instead of walked. He hit the ground with his fist—furious with God, the world, and the men who had taken his father. He wished he could stab them all.
It was Savannah who had saved those of them who’d survived, he realized. She had gotten the gun and not hesitated to shoot. If she hadn’t taken the gun, they’d all have been slaughtered in the cornfield, their bodies left to rot.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He shook his head. “You saved us.”
“They got Tim,” Gretchen wailed from behind him.
Malachi looked over his shoulder, watching the woman coming towards them. She froze when she saw his father’s body, her eyes widening with fear.
“It’s okay,” he assured her. “We’ll be okay,” he lied.
He looked back at his father’s dead body, his heart filling with rage as he silently vowed to get revenge. He knew it was wrong, but in this moment, he didn’t care. He wanted the ones who had hurt his father to pay.
27
Austin’s lower back ached, and he felt pain in his inner thighs from spending too long on the back of a horse. They had been riding at a rigorous pace for days. Every person they encountered along the way, they asked about the traveling band of missionaries. Each time, he was buoyed by the news that they were gaining on them. He was hoping that, today or tomorrow, they would finally catch up.
Jim Loveridge was moving slow. He’d been holding mini-revivals, which both infuriated and terrified Austin at the same time. They’d heard about the horrors happening all over the Midwest. People who worshipped God were being prosecuted and blamed. There was a dangerous undercurrent getting stronger and stronger each day, pressing tension higher. Somewhere, someone or some group was feeding the hate. They’d even heard rumors about certain religions offering sacrifices, which infuriated others. It wasn’t safe to express one’s religious or personal spiritual beliefs any longer.
“We’ve got to be close,” Amanda said from beside him, her horse trotting along the paved road with that maddening clip-clop he’d even begun hearing in his dreams.
“Wow, would you look at that,” he said, taking a moment to appreciate the beautiful countryside spread out for miles and miles in front of them.
She laughed. “We are officially in Kansas,” she joked.
He smiled as they headed down the last hill he could see around. “It won’t be long before we’re in the Rocky Mountains, and it will be a homerun from there.”
“Going through or over the mountains is going to be difficult. There’s probably going to be snow up there,” she added quietly.
“You think?” he asked.
“Maybe,” she replied.
They’d been getting along a lot better, having come to an understanding that they needed one another. The companionship had grown more and more important to both of them, and two sets of eyes were better than one. Austin was constantly watching for threats, and he knew
Amanda was, as well. They’d taken no one at face value since their encounter in the not-so-friendly town. Everyone was an enemy until proved otherwise.
“I wish that corn was a little more mature,” Amanda commented.
“You and me both. That snake we had for dinner last night wasn’t all that filling.”
She laughed. “No, but it was something. When we stop tonight, we’ll look for prairie dogs. I’m sure they’re prolific around here.”
“Oh yeah, prairie dog,” Austin groaned. “I cannot wait for the day when I can walk into a restaurant and order a T-bone steak with all the extras.”
“Don’t think about food; you’re only making it—” Amanda stopped talking, pulling Charlie to a halt.
“What?” he asked, his hand on the butt of his gun.
“Blood,” she said, pointing to the side of the road.
A few steps down the road, he looked down and saw the dark pool that was still tinged with red, telling him it was relatively fresh. He looked around for the source of the blood and saw nothing. They both started moving ahead again, slow and steady, ready for anything.
“More.” He pointed to a spot in the gravel where there was a larger pool.
“And crosses,” she murmured.
Austin looked up, following her line of sight to where three wooden crosses made from sticks were poked into the ground within a small clearing torn out of the corn stalks. If they hadn’t been mounted on horseback, they’d never have seen them.
“I want to check it out,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
He knew they weren’t all that far behind the Loveridge caravan, and his heart pounded in his chest as he slid off Raven, landing on his good leg and moving slowly to where the crosses stood. The sound of a crow circling above the cornfield sent a shiver of terror down his spine. He moved into the corn, the feathery tops tickling his bare arms as he moved.
“Austin, wait, let me check,” Amanda said, rushing past him and turning to put up a hand against his chest, pausing him mid-step.
Survive the Chaos (Small Town EMP Book 1) Page 20
