The Road North

by Phillip D Granath

Crouching next to the wagon Kyle wasn’t exactly sure what Coal had in mind when he told him to wait for a signal, but then he heard the slaver’s fresh round of screams.

  “Oh right, it's Coal. That must be the signal.”

  Taking a breath, Kyle reversed the hunting knife in his grip just as he had seen Coal do a hundred times before and launched himself out of the shadows. The scavenger leaped on to the back of the wagon already in arm’s reach of the slaver sitting there. The man had just enough warning to raise a hand and half turn to face his attacker as Kyle aimed the blade for the man’s neck. The slaver just managed to get both hands up and on Kyle’s knife hand and barely kept the tip of the blade away from his neck. Kyle quickly realized he was in trouble and for a split second, he considered pulling the Magnum with his free hand and ending this fight before he lost control entirely. Then glancing down, Kyle saw an opportunity, and without a second thought, he took ahold of it. With his free hand, Kyle grabbed the slaver’s ponytail and then threw all of his weight to his left and over the edge of the wagon. Both men tumbled awkwardly out into the darkness, but Kyle was ready for the fall and using the slaver’s hair for leverage he just managed to land on top of the stunned man. The landing knocked the air from Kyle’s lungs, but the slaver seemed to take the worst of it, and Kyle felt the man’s grip go slack. Seizing his chance the scavenger managed to pull his hand, and along with it Coal’s knife free. Kyle raised the knife ready to end the man quickly when he realized that the slaver was still laying as he fell. Keeping the knife ready Kyle rolled the man over and found a deep gash leaking blood across the slaver’s forehead. For a moment the scavenger thought that the man was dead, then slaver’s body gave a slight shiver, unconscious but not quite dead it seemed.

  Coal and the remaining slaver circled one another in the flickering light of the burning corpse, each holding their weapon ready and waiting for the other to make the first move. The half-breed smiled as his eyes met the gaze of the slaver across from him the man kept his whip moving, ready to strike the moment an opening came. Coal held his blade out in front of him, and while he feared no man alive, in truth, he had no idea how he could use a sword to defend against the strike of a whip. As if sensing Coal’s hesitation the slaver’s arm snapped forward with lightning quick speed. Coal had just enough warning to shift his blade to the left and turning his head he felt a line of fire appear across his left cheek. Coal swore and then quickly shifted to his right and as he felt blood began to slide down his wounded cheek, he realized an inch to the left, and he would have lost his eye.

  “Oh, now I get it, Blinder.”

  “I get lots of practice,” the slaver said with a laugh.

  Blinder moved to his right mirroring Coal his hand raised and ready to lash out again and the bounty-hunter knew he had but a moment to react. His problem was simply one of distance, Blinder’s whip could reach him, but he couldn’t reach Blinder. Oddly enough it was the same issue Coal faced last year when he killed his saber’s previous owner, Rory. In that little dust-up, Coal had changed the rules of the game and gambled everything on one final and desperate move. Suddenly he thought, that seemed like a solid plan, and since Coal only knew one real rule of fighting with a sword, he knew exactly which rule to break.

  Coal took a quick step to his right and then threw his saber at Blinder as hard as he could. The blade flew through the flames spinning awkwardly end over end. The slaver shifted to his right mirroring Coal and was nearly skewered as the saber came flying at him out of the flames, but at the last moment, Blinder just managed to raise his arm and turn the spinning blade. He shouted first in surprise and then in triumphant as he turned back ready to lash out at the now defenseless Coal. But as he turned his head, the bounty-hunter charged through the flames, Coal’s right-cross catching him across the jaw.

  The slaver stumbled backward and tried to raise his whip again only to have Coal hit him once more in the face and then in the stomach. Blinder fell to his side and tried to raise his whip again, though it was now hopelessly pinned under him he was too stunned by Coal’s punches to realize the fight was already over. The bounty-hunter rolled the slaver onto his back and straddling him began to rain down a series of blows at Blinder’s face and head. The first blow cracked his right eye socket, the second broke his nose and the next his left cheekbone. There was no form, no technique, just a vicious series of savage blows and as the slaver’s blood coated Coal’s hands and then splattered across his face Coal screamed in rage. Blinder managed to raise a hand in a vain attempt to ward off the blows and choked out something between a cry and whimper.

  “What was that?” Coal asked, “Oh shit, it looks like you have something in your mouth, let me help you with that.”

  Grabbing Blinder by the hair Coal turned the dying man’s head and then rained a merciless series of blows down at the helpless man intent on knocking all of the teeth from his head. As the bounty-hunter viciously beat their one-time tormentor to death, the slaves stood at the edge of the light and watched. Most stood motionless while others shrank to the ground staring in disbelief, others cried, and one rocked himself back and forth violently. The boy that had been the target of Blinder’s whip had regained consciousness and now sat, still covered in blood but watching Coal’s attack in stunned silence.

  As Coal pounded blow after blow into the dying slaver his world shrank until the only thing that lived in it, at least for the moment, was Blinder’s broken face and his own bloody fists, all the rest was shrouded in a red haze. Somewhere out in that bloody mist, Coal heard a voice calling his name over and over again. Then his little world came crashing down as a pair of hands grabbed his shoulder and hauled him backward pulling him off of the slaver’s corpse. Coal turned to grab at his new attacker eager for a new target, the newcomer struck him across the face once and then again, but Coal just laughed in reply. Then the barrel of a revolver struck Coal across the side of the head, and he went down hard, landing in the pool of the slaver’s blood.

  Though stunned, the bounty-hunter tried to spin around ready to attack again when Kyle pressed the barrel of his magnum squarely against his friend’s blood splattered forehead.

  “Coal!” Kyle screamed, “Snap the fuck out of it!”

  Coal blinked twice, and Kyle watched as the man’s dark eyes refocused, as if waking from a dream. Then raising a hand Coal tried to wipe the blood from his face, before quickly realizing that his hands were too bloody for it to do any good and he gave up.

  “Remember me, I’m your fucking sidekick! Are you good?” Kyle demanded.

  “Fuck you Tonto,” Coal managed in reply.

  Kyle stared down at his friend for a moment longer before lowering his revolver. The scavenger couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over the scene, one body still smoldering, while the other’s head was smashed beyond recognition. In truth, he wasn’t sure what he expected when the two of them decided to get involved, but this wasn’t it. Then his eyes fell upon the group of slaves still standing silently and watching from the darkness.

  “It's fine, everything is cool, don’t worry we’re the good guys!” Kyle announced lamely.

  Then he glanced down and took a quick step to his left avoiding the spreading pool of blood.

  “Your free and stuff!”

  The group of slaves starred back at Kyle in stunned silence, some shrank to the ground, others began to weep quietly, but none of them moved.

  “Well don’t everybody fucking thank us all at once!” Coal shouted, still sitting in the pool of blood.

  For a long moment, the men stared back and forth at one another in silence and Kyle began to wonder for the first time if perhaps this had all been a mistake. The boy that had been whipped was the first to stir, and he painfully pulled himself to his feet, his back still dripping blood.

  “Where is the Keeper?” the boy asked.

  “The what?” Kyle replied.

  The boy raised a trembling hand and pointed to the wagon where the man in the vest had
once sat.

  “Him? Oh don’t worry about that guy, I took care of him.”

  For some reason, Kyle’s word didn’t comfort the boy as he had hoped. Instead, they seemed to send a shock wave through the slaves. Some began to cry and whimper, while others began to shout questions or curses at them. Coal was on his feet and at Kyle’s side in a heartbeat, his saber once again in hand and at the ready.

  “Where is he?” the boy demanded, tears now streaming down his face.

  “Everybody just calm the fuck down, he’s alive, he’s behind the wagon,” Kyle replied.

  At that the boy and several of the other slaves turned and ran for the wagon, apparently eager to find their Keeper.

  “What in the fuck is going on?” Coal asked.

  “The hell if I know.”

  “You killed that fucker right?” Coal asked.

  Kyle hesitated for a moment and then replied, “Well…its kind funny actually…”

  “You left him alive didn’t you?”

  “That wasn’t my plan, it just kinda worked out that way.”

  “God damn it Pale face, you had one job!” Coal said.

  With his sword in hand, Coal rounded the wagon with Kyle following quickly behind him. They found the slaves gathered around the unconscious Keeper. The boy was cradling the man’s head in his lap while another slave retrieved a lantern from the wagon bathing the strange scene in a yellow light. The remaining slaves gathered around the wounded man, some of them openly weeping.

  “Step aside son, let me end this thing, and we can all get the hell out of here,” Coal said.

  “No! Not our Keeper! Please!” the boy shouted, shielding the man.

  Kyle reached out and put a hand on the half-breed’s shoulder, “Hold on Coal, something isn’t right here.”

  Kyle took another step closer and then kneeled down, the boy held the unconscious slaver close as if trying to shield him from harm. The scavenger paused and then looking down realized that the dark vest that unconscious man wore wasn’t made of simple leather, it was pale and smooth. A sudden chill went down Kyle’s spin as he realized that it was made of human skin and decorated in intricate patterns and designed all cut from different shades of skin.

  “What in the fuck kid? Who is this bastard to you?”

  The look the boy gave Kyle was one of shock mingled with confusion.

  “He is my Keeper. He is all of our Keepers.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” Coal asked.

  The boy looked between the two men in confusion as if they had asked a very obvious question.

  “He looks after us, he takes care of us, he tells us what to do and when we do well he gives us water. He’s our Keeper.”

  “What are you talking about kid? He’s a slave owner, and you’re his fucking slave,” Coal pointed out.

  “Slave?” the boy asked, his mouth forming the word as if it was new to him.

  “We are the Unworthy,” he explained.

  Behind him, the remaining slaves immediately repeated the word as one, “Unworthy.”

  “Yeah, that’s not fucking creepy or nothing,” Coal mumbled.

  “So your Keeper here, he owns you?” Kyle asked.

  The boy shook his head adamantly, “No he is a Keeper, and he works for a Master.”

  “Naturally,” Coal said with a laugh.

  The boy smiled and nodded, “Only Masters can own the Unworthy.”

  “Unworthy,” the other slaves repeated.

  “Stop that!” Coal shouted.

  “Kyle held up his hands and shaking his head said, “So, let me get this straight. The Keeper looks after all of you, and he works for a Master that owns you?”

  “Yes!” the boy said nodding.

  “Then who are those two?” Kyle said pointing back to the corpses on the ground.

  “They are the Masters Chosen, they deal out his justice to the Worthy and the Unworthy alike.”

  “Unworthy!” the group chanted in reply.

  “That’s it you creepy ass Powder looking motherfuckers, I’m killing the next one of you that uses the U word!” he shouted pointing his saber around at the circle of slaves.

  “Calm down Coal,” Kyle said before turning back to the boy, “None of that matters now, you’re all free. You can all go wherever you want, forget about the Master and the Keepers.”

  “Yeah and in the spirit of moving on and all, let’s slit this Keeper’s throat,” Coal offered.

  The boy recoiled in horror, “No!” he shouted, “If he dies, we die!”

  “Kid you don’t seem to be getting the point, you aren’t going to be here no more,” Coal shouted.

  “Are you going to take us with you?” a voice asked.

  Kyle turned, and his eyes fell upon another slave, his body was just as pale and decrepit as the others, but his eyes held a sorrow somehow deeper than the rest and Kyle realized that the man was much older than the others. Coal and Kyle shared a quick glance before the scavenger replied.

  “Well, no. You can’t go where we’re going.”

  “Are you going to give us enough water to cross the desert then?” the elder slave asked.

  “No,” Kyle admitted.

  “Then how are we free?”

  Coal turned to look at Kyle for a moment and then whispered, “Kyle I just want you to know that I think you may have made a really hasty decision, running in here like you did. It just seems like this whole idea was just kinda flawed from the beginning. Also, I don’t think we should tell Miles about any of this.”

  Kyle shook his head ignoring Coal’s banter and opening his hands asked simply, “What can we do?”

  The old slave stood and announced, “We are going to put the Keeper in the wagon, and then we are going to haul him back to the Master. We will tell him everything that has happened here, to do anything less would be…unwise.”

  The boy holding the unconscious Keeper nodded in agreement, and the rest of the slaves moved forward to help him load the wounded Keeper into the wagon.

  “Well, that’s a hell of a way to say thank you,” Coal grumbled.

  “We can’t lie for you about what happened here, the Masters have their ways of keeping us divided and eventually one of these men would talk. But I will tell you this, the Masters will not forget this. I suggest you run now, as far and as fast as you can,” the old man said.

  Once the Keeper was loaded on board the wagon, the slaves took their place along a pair of long knotted ropes, and with a well-practiced motion, they began to pull the makeshift wagon forward. The old man watched silently for a moment and just when Kyle was certain he would walk away without another word he spoke.

  “What you did tonight, though It may not amount to much, I want you to know that it does give me hope, knowing that there are still people out there that haven’t forgotten their humanity. Wherever it is you come from, protect it, keep it and the ones that you love safe from the madness that is this world.”

  Then the old man left them to join his fellow slaves pulling their wagon back into the darkness.

  “What’s our play boss?” Coal asked.

  Kyle looked at his blood-splattered friend for a moment before replying, “Boss? I thought I was the sidekick?”

  “Hey man, I know when I’m out of my depth and this fucked up Schindler’s List meets Mad Max shit show that you got us into is definitely more your speed than mine.”

  “I’m not sure what you even mean by that, but I do know were taking that old man’s advice,” Kyle replied.

  “We running then?”

  “As fast as we fucking can.”

  The two friends turned and without another word set out at a run. They crossed the street, scaled the wall and made their way back towards Miles and the buggy. The sun was just beginning to lighten the horizon in the East, and as they neared the house, Kyle could see Miles standing anxiously in the second-floor window.

  “Miles get downstairs, we’re leaving now!” Kyle shouted.


  “What’s going on? Are you being chased?”

  “Just get your ass moving!”

  Coal and Kyle ran through the front door just as Miles reached the bottom of the stairs. The old engineer took one look at the blood splattered half-breed, and his eyes went wide.

  “What happened? I heard screaming,” he said.

  “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine Miles. You should see the other guy,” Coal replied with a grin.

  “What?”

  Ignoring Miles’s questions the two men quickly ushered the old man out the back door of the house and towards the buggy. Kyle jumped behind the wheel and began flipping switches as Coal helped load Miles into the passenger seat. When the buggy’s console finally flickered to life, Kyle didn’t like what he saw. The battery indicator displayed only six green bars out of ten, even driving the buggy every day across town he had never see the battery level drop below eight.

  “Miles how far can we get on six bars?”

  “No idea,” came the old man’s reply.

  “Well, we’re about to find out.”

  With that, Kyle threw the buggy into gear and with the sun rising behind them the trio pulled out of the house and as fast as they could, and they fled the quiet suburbs of Apache Junction.

  Mixed Signals

  The Braves arrived just before dawn, a pair of strong men with young faces. When they knocked quite unexpectedly on Little Bird’s door she, at first, didn’t recognize them. Then the old woman realized that neither warrior had been considered old enough to carry a spear when she had last seen them. The first now stood proudly with his spears in hand, he was shirtless wearing only blue jeans and a bright colored headband. The other wore a rawhide vest and faded jean shorts, he held his spear in one hand and held the reins of three ponies in the other. Little Bird nearly laughed in their faces, they looked like a pair of boys playing at being warriors. She opened her mouth ready to unleash a stinging rebuke when the shirtless Brave spoke first.

  “Little Bird, your chief summons you.”

  The old woman’s eyes narrowed, and she looked between the two young men again. She was due to return to the Indian Nation again in just three days as she did regularly, what was so important that it could not wait three days?