by Alessio Cala
“He’s right,” John agreed. “You got someplace safer we can talk?”
“M-m-my cabin is just over this here hill.” Barry walked past the others and led them through the last few hundred metres of the forest’s overgrowth.
Kara had offered to carry Sam. It was the first time Frank, Annie or Tracy passed the responsibility over to someone else. He seemed okay with it, somewhat unsettled at first but at least he was opening up and giving the others a chance. Frank held Annie’s hand firmly and could see her smile in the corner of his eye. They stepped out of the tree line and felt the wind of the open field sweep across their bodies. The grass stood tall, surrounded by a collection of yellow and white daisies and dandelions that shook violently in the wind. The tree line curved around the perimeter of the field and the forest continued along the other side of the lonely log cabin.
“This is it,” Barry announced contently. The grass was notably eroded around the cabin where the space had been used to make room for various workstations. A blue tarpaulin sheet covered a pile of chopped logs beside the cabin. The blade of an axe embedded deep into a lone tree stump. About twenty metres from the house was a single makeshift wind turbine rotating in the breeze. Frank put one arm around Annie's shoulder and held her close as they moved through the field towards the cabin. The wind picked up rapidly and continued to thrash the cold air into their faces from all directions. Dark clouds crept over the bright sky and the distant thunder rumbled overhead.
“E-e-everyone get inside,” Barry hollered over the whistling gusts of wind. The others picked up the pace, pushing themselves against the thrashing gales. Carlos was first up the steps of the wooden porch. He clamped the doorknob and pushed against it with his shoulder but it wouldn’t budge. Derek trudged close behind and nudged Carlos aside, using his entire body weight to barge through the flimsy door. The door flung wide open. Shards of wood chipped and cracked around its hinges. Derek hurtled through and landed on the cabin floor. The others kicked each other’s heels as they hurried inside. Barry slammed the door shut but it didn’t latch. The sheer force of wind flung it back into his face. He fought back, holding it shut as Frank came to his aid.
“Who broke my door?!” Barry shouted over the intruding gusts of wind.
“It wouldn’t bloody open,” replied Derek. He got up to his feet and dusted himself off, readjusting his beanie upright upon his bald head.
“G-g-get the nails in that tin,” Barry demanded, gesturing over to the window sill. John snatched the tin and offered them out to Frank in a hurry. Frank took them and watched Barry rummage around the pile of wooden planks piled in the corner beside the door. He turned back around with two small planks of wood and a hammer. Frank held the door shut, it was already dark out and the squall of air pushed against the door like the force of another human being. Barry slammed the nails straight into the planks and locked everybody inside. They took a few steps back and sighed heavily. Frank had only just noticed the smell. It was the pungent smell of raw meat. He turned to see the inside of the cabin and was greeted by several chains hanging from the ceiling. Their hooks pierced the dangling carcasses of freshly skinned game, a collection of rabbit and deer. A stained mattress was shoved up into one corner where linen sheets tangled in a clumped mess. Several tools, nuts and bolts sprawled across a wooden table, a single handcrafted wooden chair sat beside it. The static of a dead radio frequency hissed sharply in the background. On the floor to one side of a vacant fireplace rested the pelt of a black mountain wolf. The head was squashed, diluted with no expression. Chopped logs of wood lay in a messy pile beside it.
“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” Barry said. “I w-w-wasn’t expecting so much company.”
Everyone set their things down to one side. Barry lit the fire and cooked the venison he had saved up from his hunt. He passed the meat around for everybody and sat himself on the only wooden chair in the room. Frank sat on the floor with Annie and Tracy by the fire. Annie’s head drifted onto Frank’s shoulder. He felt her soft hair bundle up to his cheek. Tracy stared gormlessly into space. The thrashing bright reflections of the fire fanned over her face. Annie worried about Tracy. She hadn’t spoken much since they left their home down south and she was only getting quieter.
Max laid beside Sam on the wolf skin rug, sleeping blissfully, eyes squinting from the warmth of the fire. Frank knew the dog had been pushed to his limits and he was content to know the dog had the opportunity to rest. The boy lay on his stomach and scribbled into the black book, his feet swaying up in the air. Frank held the chunk of cooked meat in his bare hands. He chomped into it and tore it apart with his teeth. He had eaten little over the past few days. Food was limited to preserved soups and bruised fruit and they were already running low on both. He glanced over to John who sat peacefully on the edge of Barry’s bed. He held a greasy rag and worked away on polishing his sidearm. There was a stillness to the room. Although everyone was doing something or other, all Frank really heard was the monotonous crackling of the firewood and the gusts of wind moaning across the window. He took another bite out of the venison, his hands greasy from the fat. The rain drummed down on the corrugated iron roofing. Derek stood by the window at the front of the cabin. He tapped his fingers against the window sill and stared out into the darkness. He seemed restless, agitated, as though waiting for something but Frank chose to ignore it. Kara and Carlos stood over Barry by the table. They filled him in on the massacre of Merribank and told him about the raiders heading north to Elkford.
“...Paraíso sent us to you, Barry. He says you’re the only one who knows the current state of the east,” said Carlos.
“W-w-would anybody like some more venison?” Barry asked. He stood up and approached the large skewer suspended over the fire.
“We can’t use the roads, Barry,” said Kara. “We need you to tell us another way to get to the harbour.” Barry bent over by Tracy and picked up the chopped logs. “The roads are no good,” he said, half listening to their words.
“I know, I just said that.”
Barry tossed the logs into the fireplace.
“Barry,” Kara persisted.
Barry shuffled over to the front of the cabin. “Hopefully this storm clears by the morning.” He drew the curtains, snapping Derek from his hypnotic trance as the oaf stood awkwardly by the front of the cabin. Kara glanced over to Frank. He shared her concern. Barry seemed distant, evasive towards Carlos’ questions. Frank hadn’t seen the man for four years but much had changed and his behaviour only drew more attention toward him.
“Why don’t we leave this until the morning?” Frank suggested. More silence. Frank continued. “Barry, you remember the last time we saw each other?”
Barry mumbled to himself, picking up the nuts and bolts from the table into his palm, “four... five... six.”
“Barry,” Frank repeated, much louder this time. Barry’s head snapped up. His beady eyes peered over his round specs. Annie’s head jolted up with a stir. Frank felt guilty for disturbing her but made the most of Barry’s short attention span while he had it.
“You remember Paul, the butcher?”
“Yeah I rem-m-member,” Barry said, smiling at the not-so-distant memory. His smile led Frank to further persevere. Annie turned to Frank, now intrigued to know more. “The butcher at Merribank?”
“Yeah,” Frank replied. “Was back when Barry lived down south; he had just bagged himself this deer, huge thing. I give him a hand taking it in to Paul who had a ton of fuel that Barry wanted for his old pickup.” Frank chuckled to himself as the images flashed to the forefront of his mind. Barry released a bellow of laughter that shot him back into his seat. His cheeks glowed red, glazed with sweat.
“What? What’s so funny?” said Kara.
“He hoists the deer over his shoulders, front hoofs in one hand, back in the other. I said, 'Let me help you.' He struts off trying to be all macho about it. I insisted to help him carry the damn thing, but no. He says, 'I shot the
bloody thing, I’ll be the one to carry it!” The others listened in, all eyes and ears on Frank and his story. Frank stood up, imitating Barry's poise and holding up the imaginary deer. “He marches up the steps into the butchers, next thing I hear, bang! I run up the steps and when I go in, I see Barry toppled over, his face sliding down the front of the counter.” Frank struggled to finish, trailing off with laughter. Barry cried out in hysterics, wiping away the tears. Annie slapped Frank playfully, eager to hear the end of the story.
“I go the other side of the counter and see Paul. He's lying there, unconscious with this deer on him. Barry only went and slipped on some blood leftover from an earlier delivery. The thing lunged out of his hands and nearly took Paul's head clean off.” The cabin shook with laughter, all eyes on Barry as he squirmed with the estranged sensations of both embarrassment and nostalgia. The laughter soon faded and Frank let out a long final wheeze as he sat back down by the fire.
“I think we should call it a night,” said Derek.
Carlos leaned on the table. “I think so too.” He looked exhausted. They all did. Barry crossed the cabin again and sat on his bed beside John who expressed an uncomfortable glance.
“Excuse me, mate,” said Barry. He took hold of the grubby quilt and wrapped it around his plump body. John stared at the man getting into bed only a few feet away. He stood up, raised his eyebrows and wandered over to the chair to finish off his handy work.
The group took to the floor and laid out their bedrolls. Frank laid still, the hard wooden floorboards did his back no favours but at least he was warm. He cuddled up to Annie and held her close to him.
“Did we do the right thing?” she whispered into his ear.
“I don’t think we had a choice.”
“Do you think we can help them?”
“Who, the slaves?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know," he said. "You were right though before. If we don't do something, nothing will change. As long as we're together, everything will be okay."
Silence.
“I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
NINE
Frank's eyes opened. The sound of rainfall was replaced by the harmonic notes of redwings and thrushes. It was the early hours of the morning and a monotonous knocking woke him from his light slumber. He reached out and felt Annie beside him. She was fast asleep, the warmth of the Elk skin was wrapped tightly around her body. Frank turned his head to the repetitive knocking and as he did so it stopped. He could see an outline of Barry's plump figure through the darkness of the cabin. He had closed the door and placed the wooden board back to keep it shut. Frank wondered why he had been out so early. He was carrying his rifle but there was no animal or other signs of game. A bad hunt perhaps? He laid still and the cold air lingered. The others were still resting; some asleep, others groggy from the sound of Barry's commotion, but all chose to return to those valuable few hours of sleep before the wake of dawn.
Frank woke to the harsh hissing of a dead radio frequency. He sat up in a stir. For a moment he forgot where he was. The cabin's wooden interior appeared strange and foreign to him until the sudden realisation shot to him in the form of a dull headache.
"No wonder you got nothing, it's on the wrong frequency," said Kara behind him. He turned to face the others and realised she was talking to Barry.
"I thought it was w-w-one-four-one point two-five?"
"No they changed it quite a few years back because of interference."
Derek remained on guard by the window. The others gathered around the table and Frank slowly rose to his feet.
"What's going on?"
"The main station has been dead for a long while now," Kara explained. "We're checking if there's anything back on the air." She fiddled with the radio dial. A harsh tenor squealed high and low until the faint strings of a harp faded through the cabin. It was a soothing orchestral piece with violins and the voices of angels.
"Well, at least we know the music station's been left on," said John.
"It's on a loop," said Frank. "That same piece was playing when I was in Merribank."
"What the fuck?" Derek muttered. He span from the window and marched over to the table. "You son of a bitch." He shoved Tracy aside and snatched Barry by the collar. Kara caught Tracy before she fell. "What the hell are you doing, Derek?"
"This bastard sold us out."
"What are you talking about?" John asked.
Frank moved to the window and peered outside to where Derek was looking. His thumping heart drummed his entire body. He spotted them immediately.
Five men stood broadly in the middle of the marshy clearing. They had already seen him, staring back into his eyes, their wicked gaze a piercing symbol of dread. He wondered how long they had been waiting there. They held automatic rifles and the man in front held a megaphone. On either side, more men and child soldiers made their way around the outside of the cabin.
They were surrounded.
"I-I-I didn't do anything. I swear." Barry cried.
"Then why are they out there?!" Derek screamed into his face. Annie spotted the veins bulging through the skin of the oaf's neck. Derek raised his fist and swung a right hook across Barry's jaw. Max pounced onto Derek's leg. The dog's teeth sunk into the oaf's calf and he shook his head violently. Derek hollered through gritted teeth. Frank jumped in and snagged Max back by the collar. "Heel!"
Derek raised yet another fist, this time aiming for the dog. Another hand snatched hold of his wrist. It was Kara. "Stop. It doesn't understand."
"L-l-listen, please," Barry piped up. "I have a weekly d-d-deal with them. I supply them with meat and they spare me. They're a day early, I don't know why. I just wanted to get you on your way before they got here."
"You should have told us," Carlos added. Barry's eyes darted in all directions. He began to breathe erratically, gasping for air until his eyes finally rolled back into his head. The chair swung back and Barry crashed into the wooden flooring below. John knelt beside him quickly, checking him once over.
"He's out cold."
Frank's heart pumped faster and faster. He grabbed Annie's arm and pulled her to the floor with him. Everyone hit the deck. Frank ushered Annie beneath the table with Sam, a blubbering mess amidst the confusion. Frank saw the open book dangling in Sam's hand. He took Sam's hand and held it up so he could see. A new sketch: A scribbled house covered in hundreds of dots from where he had stabbed the pencil into the paper. Outside of the house he had drawn people bearing arms.
Derek marched back over to the window. Frank yanked him down to his level. Derek's eyes shot like piercing daggers but he didn't care. They sat still, only the repetition of the heavenly choir was there to fill the silence. A distorted, thunderous voice called out to them. Carlos listened intently, eyes fixated in concentration of the foreign language that called to them from outside.
"They want the boy."
"What?" Annie stammered.
Derek held the .38 close to his chest with both hands. John and Carlos hauled Barry's body over to the bed and flipped the bed over on its side before cramming him into the corner. John loaded his revolver. He spun the cylinder into place and cocked back the hammer. Max’s instinctive yapping argued with the intruders. He paced impatiently by the door. Tracy took hold of his collar and guided him back into the corner of the room by the fireplace. She sat down and held him close in her lap. The distortive click of the megaphone rang in their ears.
“Sabemos que estás ahí. Danos el niño y nadie sale herir," the threat repeated. It was calm but something about its sinister tone sent shivers down Frank’s spine.
“The fuck did he say?” Derek muttered from beneath the window sill. Kara edged herself back to the table and got up to one knee. “We give them the boy and nobody gets hurt."
Derek shifted onto his side and used his knees to slowly elevate his body.
“Don’t you dare,” Kara hissed.
“I’m not
gonna sit here and wait to die over some goddamn kid!”
Diez...Nueve…Ocho...
"It’s bullshit. We hand the kid over, they'll kill us anyway," John barked from the back of the cabin. Derek wasn't having any of it. He dived under the table and wrestled Sam away from Annie's arms. Sam's high pitched squeal pierced Frank's ears.
Siete…Sies...
Tears streamed down the boy's face and Annie begged for Derek to stop. All Frank saw was red. He couldn't even remember leaping forward, but he did and he was on Derek within seconds. He hung onto Derek's back and wrapped his arms around him in a struggle to tame the wild oaf.
Cinco... Cuarto...
Frank yanked back hard. He released a booming roar of pure adrenaline. His force and weight pulled Derek and sent them both plummeting into the window. The glass shattered into a thousand pieces. He felt tiny fragments fall around his face, delving into every wrinkle and crevice. His lower back dug into the sharp base of the window, pivoting haphazardly both inside and out of the cabin. He opened his eyes and glared up at the porch from the outside of the cabin. All he could see was the dreary sky through slits of warped wooden beams above.
Tres...Dos…Uno...
Only then did he realise his arms were still securely locked around Derek's neck. He was pulled back inside and together they tumbled to the floor below. The booming rhythm of machine gun fire pumped the cabin full of lead. Chips of wood stripped from the walls and splinters flew wildly. Frank felt his forearm tighten in a release of bottled up tension.
He began to choke Derek.
He held his eyes shut and felt the shards of glass graze the surface of his face. The deafening gunfire reverberated off the walls. Kara dived down to the side of the cabin. One of the table legs where she had been kneeling cracked off and took flight somewhere across the room. The satanic gunfire strayed from left to right in the form of the devil’s windshield wipers. Bullets tore through the mattress and feathers flung up into the air. Frank could hear Derek's throat guzzling for air. The gunfire stopped all at once and he felt a tremendous force separate him from the oaf.
