Forgotten Liberty

by Alessio Cala

  “Here’s how this is going to work. The nights are colder. The blizzard has died down but the snow is still falling. We wait it out here for the night and wait for Frank and John. Whoever fired that shot is a dumbass to say the least, but the raiders won’t go after it in this weather, not at night anyway. We found you because of that beacon, but we can’t leave it on because raiders might come for it.”

  “What about our weapons?” Derek asked as he rose to his feet and dusted himself off.

  “No weapons. Not for you guys anyway. We got about four hours till dawn. I’ll keep watch. Think you can hold off from killing each other till then?”

  The men shared a disheartening look. It was more embarrassment than anything else.

  “What makes you so trustworthy?” Derek questioned.

  “After what she did for us out there, I owe her my life," Annie replied. Mike studied the blood-soaked Kara. She stared blankly; Annie’s words reminded her of her actions. He tried to catch her attention to comfort her but she was lost in the swarm of her own memory.

  “You expect us to sleep through the night out here with unloaded weapons?” said Carlos, indulging in his own rhetoric. Kara snapped back from the burdening trance. “I never said you had to sleep. But we’ve got a long day ahead of us so I suggest you use this time to rest up.”

  Later that night, Annie and Sam sat side by side in one of the four corners of the cramped watchtower. She wrapped the single remaining blanket around them and pulled it in tight to trap their bodies from the cold. The wind moaned like indignant phantoms against the steel structure of the watchtower. After the confrontation, Mike attempted to find a signal but the radio equipment had been rendered useless. They would have to go it alone and hope that reinforcements from Elkford would reach the base before them. Kara sat on the only chair. It was propped beside the closed door so that she could hear if any unwanted intruders were to come. She arched her back against the chair and stretched her arms out wide. The others lay still on the cold hard floor. The desire to sleep was trumped by the sore conditions.

  “Annie?” the boy whispered softly.

  “Yes Sam?” she replied.

  “What’s a traitor?”

  She paused for a moment, trying to find a definition that would best cater to his understanding. “It’s when someone says they are your friend but they lie, or they say they will help you but they don’t.”

  “Oh. That’s not good, is it?”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Do you think we will be okay?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Me too.” He rested his head upon her thigh and yawned. “Where is Frank?” he whispered.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think he is safe?”

  “...I don’t know.” She knew he didn’t mean to worry her but it was only natural. Her heart sank when she first entered the tower, only to discover the absence of her husband.

  “I want to see him, and Max,” Sam continued.

  “Me too, Sam,” she replied. She placed her hand over his head and stroked his hair over and over. His purity overwhelmed her. She lifted her head and peered out of the window. The snow encapsulated the surrounding area. It was tough to make out anything in the snowfall. Through the darkness she spotted a collection of dotted lights far off in the distance. The miniscule specks of light seemed like an eternity away. Was it the military base? Her faint, troubled glance broke away from the mystery and returned to the boy. She would have to wait until morning to find out. For now all she could do was rest but she couldn’t without him beside her. Where are you, Frank? Her heart crawled up into her throat. She sat consumed by her own damned imagination, hoping for his return yet dreading the worst all at the same time.

  Tracy woke lying on her side. It was still dark out. The mist of clouds concealed the moon and it was now darker than before. She listened to Barry and Derek’s gargled snoring symphony. Even Kara had dozed off. The silhouette outline of her head hung loosely and she sat leaning to one side of the chair. Tracy listened to the shuffling sounds of movement only metres away. The amalgam of experiences over the course of their endeavour had scarred her. She felt like she was afraid of everything. She kept her eyes still but watched the room around her through the corner of her eye. A shadowed figure stood up from the scatter of sleeping bodies. She peered through the darkness but couldn’t make out the individual. All she could gather was the male physique. He stood completely still. She thought he was staring, watching her. It intimidated her and her heart pounded like a beating drum. He stood there for a whole minute and soon after, he silently moved closer to her side of the room. She shut her eyes. The thought of being trapped inside a room with people on the edge of their minds petrified her. The man moved away from her view to the corner of the room. She heard faint shuffles but daren’t to look. He returned to view shortly after and paced himself across to the door with a bundle of something in his arms. The man took one last glance at Kara who sat fast asleep beside the door and opened the door as quietly as possible before slipping out into the wilderness.

  Tracy stood up in the middle of the room. She panicked, wondering if she should wake her younger sister or Barry. ‘No. This is it,’ she thought. She saw it as a sign; her time to step up and contribute, to discover and prove her worth by herself. She waited, knowing he would take his time to descend the steel steps to avoid the noise. Doing as he did, she slipped out onto the landing as quietly as possible and glanced back through the frosted window to check she hadn’t caused a stir. She feared the monotonous breeze. It held a shrilling undertone that she thought might wake the others. All was quiet. She was in the clear. Peering out over the railing, she caught a birds-eye view of the man stepping out from beneath the watchtower. Tracy began her descent. She treated every step with care and kept her eye on the man moving further out into the clearing. When she reached the bottom, there was nothing left for her to hide behind. All that stood between them was the punctured mantle of snow, disturbed by his heavyset tracks. She followed his lead but he soon stopped in a beam of moonlight. She paused in the shade behind him. Her heart sank and fear took hold of her once more. The man’s significant features now came to light. His long straggly hair dangled over his hide ensemble. His head hung low, listening out behind him. Carlos turned around. She stared at him from across the clearing and neither of them spoke a single word. The sleeping boy rested amidst the bundled blanket in his arms. A delicate gasp escaped her. Carlos turned his back on Tracy and continued on his way. She couldn’t move. No matter how much she wanted to go after him, her body wouldn’t let her. All she could do was watch and she hated herself for it. It was as though her mind had split into two alternate realities. Her heart said, ‘go for it,’ but her mind said, ‘I can’t.’ The more distance he covered, the less she saw. She tried to do it. Tried to force herself to pursue; but before she could conquer her fears, he had already faded beyond the snowfall and disappeared through a crack in the tree line. He was gone, and so was Sam.

  Tracy stood alone outside the watchtower. The isolation only enhanced her feeling of regret. There were only a few hours left until dawn and the raider search parties would start looking for them again soon. A single tear glided down the inside of her cheek and dripped down into her coat. She heard shuffling in the snow and a final thud caused her to turn and face it. Frank knelt before her. His arms hung loosely by his sides, his head low, gasping for breath. Max darted up to Tracy with his front paws on her thighs. She gasped, pulled back from her lament trance and rushed to his aid. "Oh my God. Frank."

  She knelt beside him and lifted his head. He stared ahead into the vast wilderness. He seemed lost, his mind astray from the situation. Pigments of snow materialised in his thick grey beard, his face an unsettling shade of purple. The blood-soaked bandage around his eye rendered her speechless. Without padded compress, it was doing little to stop the faint bleeding. Unspoken words retreated further from her lips. The snow had glued his good
eye near shut. A film of moisture coated its surface. She helped him up to his feet and remembered what she had just let happen. Her face churned in guilt. She became a sobbing wreck.

  "Where is he?" It was all he could muster through the pain.

  "He took him," she cried. "He took Sam."

  "Which way?"

  "Frank, your eye…"

  "Which way?!"

  She gestured up over the hill, her hand landing directly onto the crack in the tree line. "He just left. I tried, Frank. I tried but I couldn't do it."

  "Annie. Is she okay? Where are the others?"

  "Up there," she replied, eyes on the watchtower above. He pushed passed her and persisted on with his endeavour. "Go and get them. Now.”

  "Frank, wait-"

  "Just go," he repeated without looking back. Max sensed the others nearby and dashed up the steps of the watchtower.

  Frank didn't stop. The thought of Carlos handing Sam over to the raiders sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. Although he was injured, his determination drove him. Everything else was scattered. Single frames of past memories flashed to the forefront of his mind. He remembered the day they first discovered Sam in the back of the cart. It seemed so long ago; his quiet self, cowering in the corner with that enigmatic book in his little hands. There in that moment of pursuit, a wave of reconciliation crashed over him. He knew that he would do anything for Annie, so would the boy for that matter. Having Sam around made her happy. That was all that mattered, nothing else. Sam had grown on him. That was the truth. He pushed away for so long in fear. Fear of attachment, fear of dependence and responsibility. He battled with his selfish ways for so long that he'd lost sight of what really mattered.

  "Hold on, Sam."

  He pushed through the small collection of pines that led to an open stretch of snow. The immediate discovery of prominent footprints guided him. Carlos. They must have been his. The dim grey of morning's first light enhanced his view. Snow built up in every crevice of the steep mountain's charcoal surface. They rose over him to the left beyond another collection of dying pines. What sounded like a crack of thunder struck his focus. The sound generated from a dip between two peaks. The distant rumble shook the ground beneath his feet. He watched the avalanche plummet down the face of the mountain and crash into the basin. The snow erupted into a cloud of white dust and devoured the forest around it. Its distance generated a melancholic beauty that distracted him from everything wrong in the world. The flooding of a grand mass that enticed those who witnessed its great force.

  Frank continued to follow the tracks. He crossed the stretch of snow that arched around the trees. The outline of the man came into view. A shuffling figure hobbled ahead of him. He needed to get closer. His leg slowed him down, just the same as the boy slowed Carlos. He lunged his left foot forward with every broad step and dragged the other behind him. He was closing in. Deep, grunting breaths helped him to absorb the pain. His nose ran in the cold but there was no time to wipe it. There he was, ten metres in front of him. He trudged after him through the snow. It was a sluggish and harrowing ordeal. If it wasn't for the fact that one was pursuing the other, it could barely be defined as a chase. Frank had enough. He pulled the revolver from his belt and aimed it up at the wolf in elk’s clothing. Carlos had already heard him following and knew there was nowhere to run. He stopped dead in his tracks. There was no alternative. End of the line. Frank peered through his flickering eyelid. He blinked to rid the built up moisture and felt the icy droplet glide down his punished face. Carlos turned with Sam in his arms.

  The boy's eyes lit up in terror. He squirmed but it only made things worse. Carlos squeezed his arm tighter and held the boy up as a shield.

  "Let him go," Frank grumbled through his desiccated throat. Carlos said nothing. Together the men used the opportunity to catch their breath. The wind entwined the branches of the nearby forest. A dull whistling surrounded them as they stood in the open. Vapour rose past tired breaths. Carlos lowered his stance and pulled the hunting knife from his belt. He held it up to the boy's throat with shivering hands.

  "Get out of here, Frank."

  "I'm not leaving without him."

  "You take a single step forward and I slit his throat."

  "You're not going to do that."

  Carlos stared back, edgy, but intrigued.

  "You need him alive," Frank continued. "You show up without him and the raiders will kill you themselves." Carlos' eyes bugged wide. There was nothing discreet about it; an overt, shocking realisation that Frank knew more than he had bargained for. He'd surpassed anger altogether and his exhausted lungs projected a roaring battle cry. He sprinted toward Frank, Sam and the knife still up in his grasp. His shoulders pivoted up and down with every jolting stride. He pelted forward, closer and closer. Frank aimed down at the scout's legs. He wanted to shoot but the risk of hitting Sam stopped him from pulling the trigger. It was too late. Carlos tossed Sam up at Frank's face. The force of the throw knocked Frank back. Sam flew over his head and skimmed across the snow.

  Carlos was already over him, ready with the knife. Frank felt disorientated. There was no time for hesitation. He slammed down on his back and his head jolted along with it. His finger tugged back on the trigger as he fell. The crisp gunshot echoed throughout the clearing. With his limited vision; he saw Carlos standing over him, the knife still raised high above his head. An expanding patch of red oozed from his gaping belly. Frank stared in bewilderment. Another gunshot fired from behind. This time it penetrated Carlos' shoulder. The man dropped to his knees.

  Frank turned and saw the smoking barrel of the assault rifle. Mike stood at the other end of the rifle. He lowered his aim and together they turned their attention back to Carlos. The knife dropped from his grasp and penetrated the snow. He folded in towards his wounds. He rolled back and forth, writhing in agony. Frank edged backwards. He looked back over his shoulder and saw the boy run to him. He embraced the child with his free hand and pulled him in close. He felt the weeping suction of Sam's gasping breaths against his chest. He'd never witnessed him like this. The fiasco with Derek back at the cabin was bad but this was something else. There was a subtlety to the trauma, a prolonged side effect. This was no sight for a child. No sight for anyone. Sam sobbed into his chest, eyes shut tight. Frank watched Carlos squirm in a puddle of his own blood and paused momentarily. Beyond the gruesome spectacle, something caught his attention. His focus racked beyond the traitor and over to the forest wall where the land dipped into a natural ditch.

  He heard them immediately.

  A series of low growls reverberated into the open. Four beasts emerged from the depths of the forest. A pack of wolves. They seemed agitated, shoulders broad and legs spread. They were not large, a slender-skulled species with white pelts and furs of grey and brown. It was only then that Frank realised he had laid eyes on a rare and true phenomenon. They were Newfoundland wolves, a subspecies of the grey wolf. Barry was right. This was real, they were right there in front of him and he could see them. He knew that he was one of the few people in the world to ever see such a magnificent creature and he only wished that he could do so with both of his eyes. He was so engrossed, so intrigued by their presence that he almost forgot the severity and danger they were truly in. It was clear from their scrawny bodies that they had not eaten in some time. They approached with caution, staring wickedly into the eyes of their prey. Beyond the malice and resentment, there was desperation, an undying will to survive. It was all an act to obscure their thriving hunger. Frank felt Mike's hand on his shoulder.

  "No sudden movements," he whispered.

  The former U.S. marine lifted him up to his feet and they slowly backed away. They didn't run. Frank knew better than to even attempt to outrun a pack of wolves. Instead, he broadened his stance and created enough distance between him and the wounded man. The wolves moved in closer, circling him. They snarled and revealed their grim set of canines. Frank held the boy even tighter. They broke Carlo
s from the group, leaving him to fend for himself against the oncoming slaughter. They lost interest in Frank and Mike and turned their backs on them. He knew what was coming. If they didn't leave now they might never have another chance. They turned their back on Carlos and began walking. Mike stayed by Frank's side, standing in support of his injured leg. Frank covered Sam's head with his hand and held it against his chest. “Don’t look.” The viscous growls grew louder and more ferocious. Tormented screams cried out from the dying man's throat. He could hear flesh shred and tear. The panicked screams drowned beneath the booming howls of the hungry beasts. Crows flocked from nearby trees and congregated high above the slaughtering grounds. They cawed in anticipation, a deadly synchronised spiral, patiently awaiting their opportunity for the leftover pickings.

  "He’s gone now,” Frank whispered to Sam over the isolated screams. "He’s gone."

  They followed Mike’s tracks all the way back to the watchtower. It felt twice as long as it did before to get there. They hauled through the last collection of thick pines and pushed into the open. Frank’s vision was limited but he could still see Annie gasp through the tender snowfall. She dropped her bag and trudged through the snow with high knees to get to him. The group were already there, spilling out of the watchtower in a cluster of confusion. They frantically passed their belongings down to one another; equipment bags and weapons that sprawled in a piled mess at the base of the staircase. They were carrying more than they could handle for the condition they were in. Frank could hold himself up no longer, and when she finally reached him, he slumped forward into her arms. She caught him and placed her icy palms on either cheek. Mike leaned in and relieved him of carrying the child. Frank fell to his knees and Annie fell with him.