After the Fall: Catherine's Tale Part 2: The warrior's fight for survival begins

by David Nees

  He smiled.

  Slowly, slowly, Catherine began to work the metal shard out of Bird. When she felt resistance, she paused, moved her hand slightly, and then started again. And then the shard was out, in her hand, and a new spurt of blood shot up her arm.

  “Nooo!” Catherine shouted. She threw the piece of shrapnel to the ground.

  Jason pulled her back from Bird. She put her hands to her face to wipe the sweat away but only smeared herself with warm blood. She rubbed her bloody right arm across her body, trying to clean it, but only succeeded in smearing her bare midriff. Jason had gotten clean shirts from somewhere, from the people around them, and he was working over Billy, struggling to bind his wound again. Catherine shuffled around the men and knelt down close to Bird’s face. She took his head in her hands, putting her face close to his.

  “You hang on, Bird. We got the metal out. You’re going to be all right.”

  Bird looked at her. “Thanks,” he said in a barely audible voice. “Wish you were my girl. You somethin’.”

  “You’re something. Some girl’s going to get a prize in you, Bird Early.”

  Bird turned his head, his eyes searching. They found Clayton. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to get hit like this. Mortars are somethin’ else. Bad.”

  “You save your strength,” Clayton said. His voice was gentle. “Just stay with us. We’ll stop the bleeding and get you to…” He stopped abruptly.

  “Ain’t gonna make it. I’m done.” Bird’s voice faltered. “Too much blood…too much gone.”

  “No,” Catherine told him. Her voice threatened to break down. “Stay with us, don’t give up. Don’t let them win.” She was sobbing now. He turned his face back to her, and she bent over him.

  “Can’t…goin’…can’t focus.”

  He looked back to Clayton who was leaning over them. “Tell momma I’m sorry,” he said, and he exhaled and his eyes went blank.

  Catherine buried her face in his chest and cried. Gentle hands pulled her back. Clayton leaned over and slowly wiped Bird’s forehead and closed his eyes. No one moved or made a sound, except for someone toward the back of the group who could not hide his weeping.

  Chapter 17

  Finally Catherine got up. She was not crying now. Her face grew dark and hard. On the other side of the road, the five captured men sat on the ground with their hands tied behind their backs.

  “You!” she shouted. She strode across the road. “Why’d you come here? What did we ever do to you?” She pulled her 9mm out of its holster as she approached the men. “Which one of you fired the mortar? Which one of you killed Bird?” She pointed her pistol at them. “Was it you?” she yelled at the nearest man. She jammed the 9mm against his temple, and he flinched, shaking his head wildly. She put her pistol against the next man’s head. He tried to shrink away from the barrel. “Was it you? I should shoot you all!”

  “Catherine,” Jason yelled. “Don’t do it. These men have surrendered. You told me last time not to kill the prisoners…that it was wrong.”

  Catherine did not turn. “That was different,” she said. Her voice was dark with a deadly intent.

  “No it wasn’t. This is not fighting, defending yourself. It’s execution…murder. Remember what you told me.”

  She saw that all the defenders were looking at her. She wavered, and then emptied her pistol barely over the heads of the prisoners. They threw themselves sideways to get away from the gun. When the slide slapped back and stayed open, the weapon empty, she holstered it and turned and went to the truck where she had put the rifles. She grabbed the M110, grabbed her jacket, and stomped off down the road toward the farms. “Catherine,” Jason called. Then she heard Clayton say, “Let her go. She got to grieve. She got to get over her angry.” And then she was alone with the sound of her footsteps.

  Leo drove fast along the winding highway back to Hillsboro, going as quickly around the dead vehicles as he dared. He had no illusions about the final outcome in the valley. His remaining men had either surrendered or been killed. The ones who had surrendered would spill their guts about whatever they knew. Thankfully they didn’t know much.

  Leo also knew that this wasn’t the end. The valley wouldn’t let this attack go unanswered. There would be a response, and it might come soon.

  And the farmers were better equipped now. Behind him the .50 caliber M2 rode in the back of the truck, but the bed was otherwise empty. The farmers had his mortars, not to mention three new machine guns.

  Leo ended jobs well. This one had not ended well, but—Leo’s face broke into a grim smile—maybe this job was not yet ended. He had to get back to Joe, so they could prepare for what might be coming next.

  As he drove, he resolved to find Charlie and kill him personally. The valley had known they were coming. Charlie must have been the one who tipped them off.

  But where did they get the extra men? he thought, over and over. The extra men had tipped the fight against him.

  They weren’t from town. Hillsboro was full of sheep.

  It suddenly came to him that it must have been that hillbilly group that had come along with the farmers to trade. But they didn’t live anywhere near the valley. Had Jason Richards recruited them? How?

  He remembered seeing the hillbillies at the trade meet. Even unarmed, they’d had a rough and untamed look about them. But he hadn’t thought about having to face them when he attacked the farmers. They were a formidable fighting force, and he had overlooked them.

  Trouble.

  Still, how much trouble? His militia back in town outnumbered them, even if they joined in an attack on Hillsboro. He still had more weapons than they did, even with what he had lost in the valley. And he now knew about the extra fighters. He’d be ready this time.

  Catherine stomped down the road, her fury undiminished. She had put on her jacket, now covered with dirt and blood. It was unbuttoned, and her bloody midriff showed through the opening. Her hair was wild and caked with blood, Bird’s blood. Her face, stained with tears, blood and dirt, was now set in a fierce frown as she looked down at the pavement.

  She was not thinking, only feeling the anger coursing through her body. With no plan, her steps took her towards her home further down the road. She heard engines ahead and looked up to see a convoy of military vehicles approaching. The sun was high in the sky and heat ripples were rising from the dark macadam.

  When the trucks were close, they stopped in the middle of the road. Kevin jumped out of the lead Humvee. “Catherine!” he shouted as he started towards her.

  “You’re too late,” she yelled.

  He stopped five paces in front of her. She saw Gibbs exit the other door of the Humvee and stare at her with a concerned look on his hard face.

  “Catherine?” Kevin said again.

  She looked away and started to walk past the Humvee. The other vehicles were stopped in a long line, and everyone was staring.

  Kevin reached out to her, but she shoved him away. He staggered back. “Where were you?” she said. Her voice was sharp and accusing.

  “I—”

  “We had to fight them by ourselves! Bird and I had to try to hold them off when they came over the west ridge.”

  “I came as soon as I could. It took some time to deal with Roper. Catherine, are you—”

  “I don’t care about Roper, or anyone else. You didn’t come, and a friend got killed because of you!” She was shouting at him now, condemnation filling her voice.

  His face was full of agony and guilt.

  “Are you wounded?” he asked.

  “No. No thanks to you.”

  “Please, tell me what happened.”

  “Ask Jason.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “I don’t want to talk to you now.” She turned away from Kevin and started walking. He didn’t follow. The men in the other vehicles stared wide-eyed at her as she marched past them.

  A few moments later she heard the engines start. The convoy moved ahead and the soun
d diminished away with distance.

  She walked towards home, alone with her thoughts and the sound of her boots thumping on the pavement.

  She crunched up the gravel drive to the farmhouse and when she got to the front yard the front door burst open and her mother came running out.

  “Catherine!” she screamed. “Oh God Catherine, are you hurt? How bad is it—”

  “Mom!”

  And then her mother’s arms wrapped around her. “Oh baby, you’re all bloody! What happened? Where are you hurt?”

  “Mom, I’m fine,” she said thickly, pulling away. “I’m fine. I’m fine. It’s not my blood. It’s Bird’s blood.”

  “Oh, Catherine!” Anne tried to pull Catherine back into her arms, but Catherine’s body was hard and unyielding. She heard running footsteps from the house, and this time her sister screamed her name.

  They were in the kitchen. Anne had taken Catherine’s coat off and was washing the blood and dirt from her body. She related what had happened. Telling the story only increased her anger and frustration; someone had to pay; someone would pay, for Bird’s death.

  “Everyone did the best they could,” Anne was saying. Her voice was patient and gentle. “That mortar could just as easily have hit you as Bird.”

  “If Kevin had come earlier, it wouldn’t have happened,” Catherine said. Her voice was still agitated. “He would have attacked them and they wouldn’t have been able to fire mortar rounds at me and Bird.” Her whole body shuddered. “He didn’t have to die.”

  “What’s going to happen now?” Sarah asked. She was sitting across the table, watching them both. Catherine could see, not only her sister’s concern, but puzzlement as well. She didn’t understand. “Will they attack us again? Over some seeds?”

  “I don’t know. But I know what I’m going to do.” Catherine stood abruptly and pushed her mother’s arm away. Grabbing her backpack, she ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs to her room.

  She threw her backpack on the bed, rummaged quickly in the closet and her chest of drawers for some clothes, put a shirt on, and stuffed more into the pack. She carried it back downstairs.

  “What are you doing?” Anne asked in the kitchen doorway. Catherine didn’t answer. She went to the corner of the living room and grabbed her Bushmaster and some boxes of ammunition. “Catherine,” Anne asked again. “What’s going on? Tell me.”

  “I’m going to get the man who’s responsible for Bird’s death.”

  Sarah pushed out past her mother. “You’re not going to town, are you?”

  Catherine looked at Sarah. She felt anger, like a hot fire, radiating through her body. “He’s not going to get away with this,” she said. “He had to be with them. I’m betting he led the attack. He’s hands-on. But nobody found him after the ambush. I think he ran when the fight turned against him. I heard a truck drive up the ridge after the battle. I’m going to hunt him down and kill him.”

  “Who do you mean?” Sarah asked.

  “Leo.”

  “Catherine, no,” Anne said in alarm.

  Catherine looked at her mother. “This is my battle. He killed my friend. Bird didn’t deserve to die…none of us deserve to be attacked like this.”

  “Why won’t they leave us alone?” Sarah asked. Her voice sounded plaintive and irritating to Catherine. “We could get along with everyone in town, if they would just leave us alone.”

  A wave of fatigue passed over Catherine. She let out a sigh. Tears threatened again. She set down her backpack and rifle on the floor and stumbled past Anne and Sarah to her seat.

  “They want power over us,” she heard her mother say. “At least the ones in charge. That guy Stansky, and Frank Mason. Somehow we represent an example they don’t want the rest of the town to see. They are so afraid of losing power that they can’t have anyone see how we live. On our own, independent…free.”

  “That’s so stupid,” Sarah declared. “What do they get out of it all? How does that make anything better?”

  “I don’t know that it does,” Anne replied. “I just know that people in power seem to want to hold on to power and grab more for themselves. Getting more power and control becomes the goal, not helping those they have power over.”

  “Well, I’m going to do something about it,” Catherine said. “I’m going to end it. Cut the head off the snake and the body will die.”

  There was a roar of many engines piling into the yard outside and coming to a halt. Catherine tensed. Anne and Sarah ran out of the kitchen. She was alone. She took a deep breath and got to her feet. She went into the pantry and grabbed some dried venison and fruit. She was putting the food into her backpack when the men came into the house. Kevin was there, and Jason, with Clayton and Gibbs close behind them. Kevin looked at her warily.

  “Where are you going?” Jason asked her.

  “You know,” she replied. “To town.”

  “You can’t go off by yourself, half-cocked—”

  “I’m not going off half-cocked. I’m going to kill Leo. He’s the one responsible for Bird’s death.”

  Jason took a deep breath. “We have to plan this out as a team. I can’t have you doing something on your own.”

  His answer only fed her anger. She glared back at him.

  Clayton’s calm voice cut in. “We all upset over Bird’s death, but others got killed today,” He stepped past Jason. His eyes bore into her, calm but completely unrelenting. “More of my kin, my folk. You don’t know them, but they all have families, same as Bird.”

  Catherine scowled angrily at him, but he never wavered. She finally dropped her eyes. What he had said began to penetrate. How many had he lost?

  “Point is, you ain’t the only one upset.” Clayton looked beyond her. His face remained placid, but his eyes had a fierce and dangerous look. He stepped past Catherine and turned, crossing his arms. He looked at the others. “What we do now?” he said in the same calm voice.

  There was a thoughtful silence. Catherine digested Clayton’s words. Bird had been kind and thoughtful. He had liked and appreciated her. In their short time together, they had bonded, whether because of their similarities or their mission. Now she realized others had been affected as well. Others had died as well. Suddenly she felt the selfishness of her actions, wanting to act out on her own to salve her own private hurt.

  She still wanted revenge, to make Leo pay, and certainly Clayton felt the same way. But maybe the best path to that lay in sticking together.

  “We attack,” she said. Her voice came out differently this time, crisp and resolute. “The sooner the better. Giving them time will only let them get their defenses organized.”

  The men looked at her. There was a look of surprise in Kevin’s eyes.

  “She’s right,” Gibbs said. “Don’t let them regroup. You’ve dealt them a big blow. Let’s follow it up while they’re in some confusion.”

  Anne said uncertainly behind him. “What about their numbers?”

  “Their numbers are reduced after today,” Gibbs said.

  “But you’re taking on a city,” Anne said.

  “Most in the town are non-combatants. It’s only the militia we have to go against,” Gibbs replied.

  “Don’t they still outnumber us? Badly?”

  “Ma’am, they may outnumber us, but can they outfight us?” Gibbs replied. “I’m betting Leo used his best on this raid, seeing as he knew about your battle with Big Jacks and his gang.”

  “The militia is not well trained,” Kevin said. “Adequate for the action they’ve seen, dealing with civilians and disorganized bandits, usually not in large numbers. They can all handle weapons, they’re all capable of killing, but they’re not disciplined, and they don’t have any idea of battle tactics.”

  The others were nodding.

  “We move quickly, and get the locals involved, we could finish this quickly,” Kevin said quietly. Catherine heard a professional certainty in his tone.

  “Are your men in?” Jason ask
ed Clayton.

  Clayton’s face remained calm, but his eyes were burning. “We in,” he said. “We got to make them pay for killing Bird and the others. Make ‘em fear us.”

  Jason exhaled. His face showed fatigue but his eyes were dark—warrior’s eyes. Catherine had seen it before. “So how do we do this, and how do we do it fast?”

  The sun was nearing the west ridge when the valley defenders set out for Hillsboro.

  Tom Walsh was not with them. He had agreed to stay behind and guard the prisoners. Assisting him in this were Anne, Sarah, and his wife, Betty. They would be taking no chances until the others returned. The men were kept separated in Tom’s barn, and constantly tied up. They would be fed by their captors; their hands were tied behind their backs, and the bonds would not be loosened. They would have an uncomfortable few days.

  The valley’s attack force numbered thirty-five. There were fifteen soldiers, plus Lieutenant Cameron and Sergeant Gibbs. Clayton also had fifteen men from his two clans, for a total of sixteen, and Jason and Catherine were the only fighters from the valley itself. No one questioned Catherine coming along. She had proven herself in battle, and, in any case, she was not going to be denied her opportunity to avenge Bird’s death.

  She rode silently with Jason in one of the pickup trucks. She had not wanted to ride with Kevin.

  They raced over the back roads in the gathering dark.

  Finally Jason spoke up. “We’ll have to find a way to get into town. We can’t just show up at a gate.”

  Catherine turned from looking out of the window. It took a moment for her to bring her mind back to the present. She didn’t want to talk, but things had to be dealt with; their lives depended on it. She said, “Maybe a small group can sneak in and connect up with Chief Cook and the civilians. They can help get the rest in. According to Kevin, the town’s barrier walls aren’t perfect barriers. The militia handled perimeter security, his job was basically to back them up and keep civic order. And he said both groups had to keep dealing with refugees and bandits who’d gotten in, just every so often, but it kept happening. There’s got to be a way in.”