TRIBES

by Mia Frances

  A large Ben Franklin stove, its doors wide open, stood at the center of the room. Around it lay several sleeping forms. Though she couldn't be certain, they all appeared to be men. The room was crammed with articles of every size and description. Blankets, pots, pillows, tools, and clothing littered the floor. Two darkened doorways led off to the left. Between them, hanging from pegs on the wall, were a variety of shotguns, rifles and pistols…a veritable arsenal! Canned goods were stacked ceiling high on shelves at the far end of the room. Two tables and several mismatched chairs had been pushed and piled one on top of another in the corner. An old-fashioned rocker was poised facing one of the draped windows and next to the front door hung a collection of jackets and backpacks.

  Her eyes scoured the room for some sign of the girls when she was startled by the sudden appearance of a brutish man emerging from the far doorway. His hands tugged at the crotch of his pants as he pulled up the zipper. Her head snapped back out of sight. Preoccupied with his fly, Alex didn't think he'd seen her; but she was frightened nonetheless. After a moment, finding her nerve again, she gingerly peered in. He'd settled himself in the rocker, gaze fixed on the crack in the curtains.

  She checked the room again, only this time more slowly, observing every nook and cranny. Something caught her eye, causing her muscles to tense. Buried beneath the hanging jackets of dirty green and brown, of red hunter's plaid and shades of deep blue, a small bright lavender sleeve could be seen. Lindsey had been wearing a jacket that color when Alex waved goodbye to her this morning. If she harbored any doubts before, she didn't now. Alex was certain; Lindsey and Deana were here, somewhere in the house.

  Dropping to her knees, she moved to the edge of the deck and, climbing the railing, disappeared over the side. Her mind was whirring as she reached for her coat and gun. How was she going to get them out? She couldn't just burst through the back door, rifle blazing. She might be able to get rid of the ones in the living room before they could reach for their guns, but what about the others? Alex had no idea how many of them there were, nor which room they were holding the girls in. And who knew what they'd do to them if threatened. Worse still, with bullets flying every which way, how could she be sure the kids wouldn't be caught in the crossfire? If she stayed outside, shooting through the window, she could pick them off one by one as they came out of the rooms. But suppose there were guns elsewhere in the house. Suppose they came out with a pistol pointed at one of the girls' heads. What then?

  No. There was only one way to do it. She had to get them out of the house! With a limited supply of ammunition, she had to make every shot count. Alex didn't want to engage in a shoot-out with them. That would be stupid. A waste of bullets. She had more than enough ammo to kill them all. That's if she didn't have to return their fire and if they were left without weapons or cover, like sitting ducks. Alex didn't see that happening unless she figured out a way to either lure or force the bastards out into the open.

  A shower of sparks appeared above the chimney. Alex watched as they drifted through the air, their glow fading before reaching the ground. That gave her an idea. What she needed was a fire! Burning down the house around those fuckers would pry them loose from their beds, sending them scurrying out the doors into the cold. If they were running in fear for their lives and there was enough confusion, they might just make the dash for safety, leaving their weapons behind. Alex studied the building. It was sided with roughhewn, wooden boards. It would certainly burn, but once the fire started there'd be no way of controlling it. If it went up too fast the girls might not be able to escape. They could be trapped inside.

  There had to be a better way. Alex looked around for an outbuilding. Something she could set on fire and draw them out without endangering the girls in the process. But there was just an empty yard. A long, squat mound at the edge of the clearing caught her attention. She quickly went to investigate. It was a woodpile…perfect! A little tinder and it would erupt into a blazing inferno. She looked back at the house, wondering if it would be enough to root them out, when she saw a dark figure at the window. Fearing he'd see her, Alex dove head first behind the pile. Her hand brushed against something cold and hard as she fell. She lifted her head to see what it was. To her surprise, she found several items hidden behind the woodpile. Alex could barely make out the shapes in the dark. Some were rounded while others were rectangles. Extending from the tops of several of them were what appeared to be stiff tails. She couldn't imagine what they were. She tapped gently against the hard surface, not wanting to make any noise, and to her surprise discovered it was metal. She struggled to her knees and crawled closer. Alex detected a faint odor of gasoline fumes in the air. Reaching out, she grabbed the container and shook it, listening as liquid sloshed inside it. Alex felt over the top until she came to a bump-like cap. She unscrewed it and took a whiff. It was gasoline, the noxious fumes burning her nostrils and causing her eyes to water.

  She worked quickly, shaking and sniffing each can. Though some were empty, the majority of them were full or nearly so. From the quantity of containers, a good twenty or more, it was obvious that they'd been stockpiling the stuff for months. Though she wasn't able to identify everything, she was reasonably certain that most of it was either gasoline or kerosene. The rest of the smells were unfamiliar, maybe paint thinner or turpentine. Whatever they were, the fact that they were being stored away from the house indicated that they were probably flammable. Alex viewed the tree line with interest, wondering if they were hiding anything else back here. She quickly spotted what she thought were several small propane tanks concealed under the branches. Those might come in handy!

  Alex poked her head out from behind the woodpile, her attention fixed on the house. All that remained was to decide how to put her finds to best advantage. She had enough gas here, not to mention propane, to blow the bastards to kingdom come and then some. She shifted her gaze to the woods, then back to the building. Like little pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, her plan was coming together. She'd set the woods on fire! Everything was still wet from the rain, so the only places that would burn would be the areas she soaked with gasoline. She'd torch the woodpile and brush along the tree line. It wouldn't spread so the trees would be safe. She looked around, envisioning the scene. Everything to the back and sides of the house would be blazing. To make sure they had only one avenue of escape, that being the front door, the deck would also have to be burning. If she set fire to just the spindles and railings, it would take a while before the flames reached the walls of the house. Anyone inside would have plenty of time to run out the front. That's where she'd be waiting, ready to open fire. Alex looked up at the sky. To the east the darkness was giving way to morning's first light. She had to hurry!

  It took a while to get everything in place and even then she wasn't sure it would work. Pant legs wet from pushing her way through the undergrowth, Alex crept along the side of the house, each step accompanied by the sound of sloshing liquid. This was the last of it. Her head peeked out from the corner of the house, eyes darting apprehensively to the window. She kept down as she proceeded to the front of the porch. Once there, Alex carefully placed the nearly empty can against one of the posts supporting the roof. In the event that they'd try to make a mad dash back into the house for weapons, this would cut off their retreat. Situated as it was just at the base of the beam, she'd be able to locate it from across the yard even if it was hidden in the shadows. All she needed to do was train her sights on the post, then lower the barrel a little. One well placed shot and the ensuing explosion would hopefully blow out the support beam, sending the roof crashing down and engulfing that end of the porch in a sea of flame.

  Withdrawing into the darkness, Alex made her final preparations. Getting down on her knees she felt over the damp earth for the length of wood she'd left there. Finding it, she emptied her pockets of the bits of rag she'd found discarded beside the containers. They stank of gasoline and oil. Alex carefully wrapped a few of the larger pieces around the end
of the branch and made a pile with the rest. Fumbling around in her jacket pocket, she slowly withdrew the fire starter. Scraping them against each other, she quickly created a shower of sparks. A second later, the rags burst into flame. She pushed the tip of her torch into the fire, setting it ablaze. Alex was ready!

  It was a race against time. Everything had to be burning and she in position at the front of the house before they even started out the door. Alex tipped the first can, then the second, then the third, on and on around the perimeter of the clearing, making sure to keep the empty cans well away from the streams and puddles of fuel. Depositing the torch at the side of the house, where it couldn't be seen, she worked in near darkness, drenching the woodpile and surrounding area; laying a trail of gasoline, motor oil, and flammables from there to the deck. She was counting on the fact that the wet ground would form a barrier, keeping the fuels pooled and floating on the surface, not allowing them to seep into the soil.

  When everything was ready and the last drop of gasoline had been spilled, Alex paused to catch her breath. For a person who might be shot dead in the next few minutes, she felt surprisingly calm. Her sole focus was on getting the girls back, no matter what it took. Alex worried about the chances of such a hastily conceived plan succeeding. She'd done her best, but the outcome remained agonizingly uncertain.

  Alex hurried across the backyard, the smell of gas and solvents turning her stomach, then around the side of the house where she grabbed her torch. Moving swiftly, she arrived at the edge of the clearing and threw the burning wood into the brush. There was a loud whoosh as the fuel ignited. The noise startled her. The fire quickly spread along the tree line, the silence of night shattered by the sound of crackling, snapping, and popping, the darkness vanquished by glowing orange clouds. Like a fiery fuse, it followed the trail of gas, tongues of flame racing ahead igniting everything in their path. Alex broke into a run. Behind her, everything was on fire, sparks shooting into the air. She dropped down to her knees beside a large tree, then fell onto her belly. She'd never shot from this position before, but being so low to the ground, she wouldn't be seen and could fire at will. Her elbows dug into the dirt, gun held firmly in her hands, finger poised on the trigger, eyes sighting down the barrel at the door. There was nothing left to do but wait.

  Suddenly there was a thunderous boom. Something had exploded. It was followed in quick succession by more blasts. In her haste, she'd forgotten to move the empty cans away from the woodpile. What an idiot! And what about the propane tanks? She hadn't moved them back either. Would the heat from the nearby fires cause them to explode too? Her rescue mission was turning into a gigantic clusterfuck! Alex began to panic; but her anxiety quickly subsided. Her plan hadn't gone awry. Those murdering pigs knew better than she did what they'd squirreled away out there. With the woodpile on fire, they'd be expecting the cans to blow. The clearing resembled a war zone with bombs exploding everywhere. The air echoed with ear-splitting crashes and shattering glass, as pieces of metal were hurled through the air, colliding with trees, walls, and windows.

  Seconds ticked by, then minutes. They were still inside! Flames rose from behind the house, but she couldn't tell if they were coming from the woodpile or the building itself. Fanned by a brisk wind from the south, the flames encroached on the yard, moving nearer and nearer to the walls. Alex held her breath, gaze fixed on the door. She could hear screams and shouts coming from inside. A line of light flashed beside the door then disappeared. She could hear glass breaking on one side of the house. The fire was moving north there, away from the walls, toward the woods. They were trying to escape through the windows. She could see shadows, dark silhouettes against the billowing flames. Three, no four of them, moving toward her. She heard a noise, like a swish, followed by a scream as one of their number fell. The three remaining figures spun around, attention fixed on something behind the house. Turning back the way they'd come, they disappeared into the darkness. She stared at the body sprawled on the lawn, bewildered. What killed him?

  Her attention quickly returned to the door. The line of light was wider now. There was a crack of gunfire, like a shotgun blast. She ducked her head, unable to tell where it came from. The door opened wide, spewing people, their shrieks, shouts, and pounding footsteps echoing in her ears. Figures were running from the porch, but she couldn't make out who they were. Frantic, Alex lifted her head, searching for two small shadows among the many. But everything was moving like a seething mass. The sound of gunfire ripped through the night. First one, then two bodies slumped to the ground. The shadows were heading right for her. Alex didn't know what was happening; only that she had to keep them in the clearing and away from the woods. She took aim at the tallest target and squeezed the trigger. People were diving for cover. She wasn't sure if she'd hit him, just that he'd gone down. From the porch, five dark figures returned fire. Shots ricocheted in the trees above her head. The door was now wide open, but there was no sign of movement inside. Alex could only assume that everyone was out.

  She swung the gun's barrel to the left and, training her sight on the post, let go a round. Nothing happened. The barrage of gunfire was intensifying. She clenched her teeth and fired again; this time the shell slammed into the can. The explosion was deafening, sending bodies hurtling through the air. The roof was ripped from its moorings, as splatters of liquid fire showered the porch, turning it into a raging inferno. A figure, his clothes on fire, ran through the clearing, screaming in agony. It looked like a scene from hell! Alex saw movement from the corner of her eye. Her head jerked back as she swung the gun around and fired. The force of the bullet knocked the shadow back. Cries and moans rose up around her like a deafening chorus. The yard was alive with light as puddles of gas, like burning lakes of fire, ignited the grass. Another attacker rose up, she could see the outline of his gun as he rushed toward her. She raised the barrel of her rifle, but before she could get off a shot he'd lunged for her, knocking the gun from her hands. There was a loud boom as a shower of warm liquid rained down on her from above. Her enemy teetered then fell dead beside her. Alex struggled to her knees, staring dumbfounded at the body.

  Shadowy figures ran for their lives, scattering in all directions as they tried to escape the gunfire. Alex frantically searched the chaotic scene for the girls. She saw three small figures running off to the right.

  "Deana, Lindsey, get down," she screamed. They immediately dropped like stones. Grabbing her gun, Alex swung it up and began firing at anything that moved. Suddenly a barrage of shots came from behind the house. Trapping the marauders in the crossfire. Emptying her rifle, she hurried to refill the clip. All the while, the exchange of gunfire continued. Whoever was out there wasn't letting up. She hastily pressed the shells into place and then jammed the clip back into the rifle. She took aim at the three remaining targets, fleeing across the yard. After two misses, she finally got one of them. Blasts from across the yard felled the other two. The guns were suddenly silent and a deathly still settled over the clearing.

  Above the crackling fire and blowing wind, Alex could hear the faint sound of a child whimpering. She searched the yard for signs of movement. It looked like a wasteland, a graveyard of bleeding corpses. Alex slowly rose to her feet and then froze. A tall shadow stepped into the clearing. She turned her rifle on it, but held her fire. It was him, the other gun; it had to be. But who was it? Certainly not Justin or Charles.

  She watched as he walked from body to body, occasionally nudging one with his weapon. He was making his way toward the three cowering children, huddled together on the grass. Alex stared at him, tears welling up in her eyes. She rushed from the shelter of the trees, feet moving as fast as they would go. He turned toward her, the glow of the fire lighting his face. Alex gasped! She hadn't dared hope! They stared at one another in silence. Alex turned away and hurried toward the girls. They were naked and shivering with cold. She dropped to her knees and embraced them. There was a loud crash followed by the sound of glass shattering. Start
led, Alex looked up. He was gone. To her left a terrified little girl with long dark hair and vacant eyes gaped at her. She was trembling, her emaciated arms wrapped tightly across her chest, trying vainly to get warm. They were freezing. If she didn't act fast the cold would claim them; they'd die of hypothermia. Alex stood up and stripped off her jacket.

  "Get closer to the fires," she said, helping a sobbing Deana to her feet and throwing the jacket over her shoulders. "You've got to get warm." She lifted Lindsey up, steadying her, then turned to the other girl. The child didn't move at first, eying Alex with suspicion, but then slowly stood up. Alex quickly shepherded the three of them toward the heat coming from the flames on the porch.

  "Alex," a voice called out, "Come get these."

  She left the girls and disappeared around the side of the house. Beneath a broken window lay a large pile of blankets and clothing.

  "Wrap them up in these," he said, choking on the smoke. "Hurry or we'll lose them to exposure."

  She grabbed an armful and quickly brought them back to where the girls were waiting. He joined them with more. They didn't speak as they began bundling the frightened children up against the cold. Lindsey turned away in shame, as Wolf wrapped a blanket around her. Her hands trying to shield her tiny breasts and naked thighs from view. Lindsey clutched the blanket, rocking and weeping, her eyes fixed on the ground, afraid to face him. Wolf reached out and tenderly took the girl in his arms, cradling her as she cried.

  Explosions ripped through the house, sending plumes of smoke high into the sky. They hurried the children down the hill, their rag-wrapped feet slipping and sliding along the muddy trail. A lump formed in Alex's throat as she watched them. Against all odds, they'd survived the night. Morning had finally come. They were going home!