by Nathan Jones
Including taking their victims with them for forced labor. And the fact that they were bringing the kids along too, and even babies and the convoy's elderly, suggested they were thinking long term.
Tom was looking at the return of slavery to what had once been the United States of America.
The question was, where had these attackers come from? They looked South American, which fit the language they were shouting rapid fire phrases in as they dumped the prisoners by the trucks then got to work looting the wagons and carts. Tom was passably conversant in Spanish since he'd taken it in high school before the world nuked itself to oblivion, and since then he'd had frequent contact with several groups of survivors who'd come north from Mexico.
This wasn't Spanish, since even listening to rapidly spoken phrases shouted at a distance he should've understood more of it than he did. But it was close enough and he picked out enough vaguely familiar words that he assumed it had to be Portuguese.
Which wasn't great news.
Brazil had been part of BRICKS, the coalition that tried to fill the power gap after the shortages drove the US and other NATO nations into a desperate struggle just to survive. Tom had assumed that like all the other major countries involved in the Ultimatum Brazil had been nuked into the stone age, just like the US had, and any survivors were still struggling to survive and rebuild the shattered remnants of their society.
But here these raiders were, driving vehicles, carrying automatic weapons, and shouting in Portuguese. Was it possible the mythical paradise that had escaped the nuclear strikes and near-global EMP with technology and infrastructure intact was down in Brazil? Or had they just rebuilt impossibly fast?
And whatever the situation was in South America, what the blazes were these guys doing in the badlands of New Mexico?
Many of the bandits were occupied with looting the wagons and carts, but some had moved on to butchering the livestock, all but a couple of the finest horses that they loaded into one of the trucks using a ramp. Tom didn't like to see good, hardworking animals come to that end, but at least the bandits who killed the oxen then got to work cutting away strips of meat to take with them. Although only the choicest cuts, from the looks of it.
But he was distracted from that senseless waste by an even more brutal sight, turning his binoculars to watch as the three people who'd been wounded by ricochets from the mounted machine gun, two men and an older woman, were separated from the others. The worst wounded, as far as he could see nearly dead already, was Simon's friend Brad, who was being propped up by a soldier as the other two wounded were lined up beside him. Another soldier pulled out a handgun and circled around behind them.
Tom could only assume that while these attackers might've been eager to take slaves, they didn't think treating wounded was worth the effort. He grit his teeth as the man moved behind Brad, already lowering the pistol.
But there was nothing he could to do stop what was happening; one man with a bolt action rifle and a revolver couldn't do anything but get himself killed. And even if he did start taking potshots at the attackers down there and somehow managed to escape, it still wouldn't change the fate of those poor people. If anything it would just goad the furious bandits into mistreating the other prisoners.
All he could do was look away with helpless fury as the bandit lowered the pistol to point at the back of Brad's head.
But apparently there was someone who was willing to intervene, futile as it was. Tom watched Simon struggle his way out of the press of bound convoy members and start towards the soldiers, screaming insults and threats at them. The armed men looked more amused than annoyed by his display, and one stepped forward to respond to him.
Whatever the exchange was between the bandit and the convoy's leader, it didn't last long. After just a few seconds the bandit whipped the butt of his rifle up to smash the taller man in the face. Simon went down hard, aided by another brutal clubbing to the back of his head as he fell. The bandit aimed a few vicious kicks at the prone man, then turned and nodded to the executioner.
That was when Tom had to look away, flinching at the sharp retort of three gunshots in quick succession.
* * * * *
Kristy bit her hand hard to hold in her scream as Simon fell, tears spilling from her cheeks as he writhed on the ground in obvious pain. She didn't even notice that she'd dropped to her knees, wasn't aware of anything but the terrible sight playing out before her horrified eyes.
She was still staring at the man when three gunshots rang out, making her flinch as if she was the one being shot. She couldn't bear to look as Brad, Mrs. Cowley, and Mr. Grainger slumped twitching to the ground, but she also couldn't force herself to look away as Simon screamed in grief at the loss of his friend.
She knew she needed to keep running, that the cover at the mouth of the gully wouldn't hide them for long once the bandits began searching the area, but her limbs had no strength as the nightmarish reality of the situation engulfed her.
No! No no no! This couldn't be happening. Bob and Vicky and Lisa and all the others had been so full of hope about their new life in Texas, only to be dragged into the back of some bandit's truck as prisoners, probably even slaves.
And Simon! She hadn't even had a chance to find out what she and Simon had, hadn't had time to discover what they could've had, and she was already losing him? On top of everything else she'd lost? Her parents, her husband, her home, the world she'd grown up in.
It was all gone. Her friends, the man she'd just begun to love, the convoy, her dream of a new life in Texas. All that was left was this bitter cursed desert she and her son were going to die in.
That thought jolted her out of her grief and despair and back onto her feet. Whatever she may feel she couldn't stop now, not while Skyler depended on her. She refused to let him die here, not when they were so close to their new life. Not when he had so much of his future waiting for him.
She had to keep going for her son.
Skyler had already retreated ten feet up the gully, out of sight of the bandits surrounding the convoy, and she felt a moment of relief that he'd been spared the awful sights she'd just witnessed. She adjusted the bundle in her arms and picked her way over the uneven ground to join him, leading the way up the steep gully.
Hopefully to safety.
* * * * *
Tom watched with helpless frustration as the prisoners were loaded into two of the trucks, including a nearly unconscious Simon.
He felt like dirt for it, but with his boss captured and the convoy apparently finished he couldn't help but think that this was exactly why he should've demanded half his payment up front. He didn't want to be selfish, and he had to admit he was definitely lucky compared to those poor people down there. But at the same time here he was in the middle of the badlands, with just his weapons and the food and water and other supplies in his pack.
And with nothing to show for his efforts.
His bundle of trade goods down in the oxen wagon was as good as lost, too; even if the attackers didn't steal it there was no way Tom would be able to carry it out on foot. And the bandits had also slaughtered the livestock, so that wasn't an option either.
He may have been spared the fate of the poor folks down below, but he still faced a grueling hike back to Emery and precious little to return home to.
Tom was distracted from watching the grim sight of prisoners being loaded when he heard the rumble of engines starting up. Bandits on ATVs had finally split away from the subdued convoy and were now roving out in all directions scouting for anyone they'd missed.
That was his cue to leave. He'd just started to turn away from the convoy when motion at the mouth of the gully below drew his attention, making him freeze with only his eyes moving as he tracked it.
After a couple seconds he relaxed slightly. It was two members of the convoy fleeing the attack, the sandy-haired kid who liked to pester him and the boy's mother. To reach the cover of the gully before the attackers saw them they mu
st've bolted almost as soon as Tom whistled his warning, and they both carried only small bundles in their arms as they picked their way up the rocky ground.
Absurd as it seemed, the knowledge that at least some had escaped in time filled him with a surge of relief. But unfortunately that relief was short lived, because one of the ATVs he'd seen leaving the convoy had circled around behind him to start up the steep slope leading up the rise from the east.
Luckily he was out of view of the approaching bandits, lodged in this little dip between two stones. But the more pressing problem was that the vehicle was making directly for the top of the gully, correctly considering it a likely place for people to flee up.
Such as the woman and child down below.
Before Tom could shout down a warning the woman also heard the ATV's engine. She grabbed her son's hand and bolted for the nearest cover, a crack in the gully's wall where a large slab of stone was in the process of splitting away. It wasn't big enough to hold both of them and offered no cover from searchers if they came up the gully's mouth, but for the moment it blocked the two from view from farther up.
The woman wedged her son into the crack and flattened herself against the back of the slab just moments before the ATV skidded to a stop at the top of the gully.
Chapter Nine
Escape
The four wheeler's driver turned off the engine, which suggested to Tom that even though the bandits had access to working vehicles and this was a combat situation, fuel was still hard enough to come by for them that they were careful about wasting it.
Then the two men quickly hopped off the ATV and started down the gully with rifles raised. They'd be in a position to spot the hidden settlers in twenty or so feet.
Tom watched them, torn.
He'd meant it when he told Simon he had no intention of joining a hopeless fight, and at the moment he was in a position where he could probably walk away from this without even being seen. But at the same time he knew he couldn't just sit there and do nothing while a defenseless woman and child were threatened; judging by the fate of the rest of the convoy the two would probably be captured as slaves, facing a grim fate wherever they were taken.
At the moment the bandits were approaching the area of the gully directly below his perch. Tom could've easily shot them both from his hiding spot the moment they came into view, but the sound of his rifle would've brought the rest of the attackers swarming into the gully in less than a minute.
Which left what? Throwing rocks? His knife?
He looked down the sheer wall to the uneven ground eight feet below; he'd jumped down from this height with no trouble plenty of times, although usually to flat, soft ground. But even if he managed to stick the landing and catch the attackers by surprise, he'd be trying to take them down faster than they could point their guns and fire.
And if one of them did manage to get off a shot, even as a twitch reflex as Tom killed him, he'd been in the same position as if he'd just shot them in the first place.
Tom cursed silently. The men were almost directly below him now, just a few steps from being able to spot the woman's shoulder protruding slightly from cover. Did he wait until they saw her and were distracted with her before dropping?
No, even more chances of things going wrong if he did that. Before he could think better of it he rose into a crouch, clutched the edge of the cliff in front of him, and swung himself over.
The fact that he landed with barely more than a soft slap of moccasin soles on rock surprised him almost as much as his sudden appearance surprised the man he dropped down beside. With the same speed as when he'd torn the throat out of that cougar Tom drew his knife and slammed it in just below the bandit's chin, driving it up into his brain. He wrenched it free almost as quickly.
As the first man dropped bonelessly behind him Tom lunged towards the second man, knife held low and ready. The surviving attacker raised his AK-47 to aim but Tom was faster, grabbing the barrel of the rifle with his free hand and using it to pull the bandit down and forward, directly into his upswinging knife.
The blade skittered off the man's body armor and up into his throat. Tom wrenched it sideways in a spray of blood, most of it hitting him, and sidestepped, tackling his enemy to the ground and stabbing again to make sure he was dead.
Content both threats were taken care of, Tom swept his eyes over the mouth of the gully and then the ATV parked at the top of it, making sure the coast was clear. No sign of other enemies that he could see.
Small blessings.
He hastily cleaned off his knife on the bandit's sleeve and sheathed it, rising with the man's AK-47 held ready. Then he stepped forward a few paces to where he could see the woman in her hiding spot. She bit back a scream at his sudden appearance. Or maybe his bloody appearance.
“It's me!” he hissed, although he wasn't sure in her frightened state she'd even recognize him as the convoy's guide. He took another quick look around before motioning frantically. “Come on, we have to go now!”
To his surprise the young woman emerged almost immediately, towing her son behind her. That brought her in view of the two dead bandits, both of them as gory as would be expected after being killed with a large skinning knife. With a gasp she covered her son's eyes and clutched him to her, expression horrified. For a few seconds she stood frozen like a deer in headlights, unable to tear her eyes from the grisly sight.
Tom ignored her for the moment, taking the time to strip the dead bandits of their guns, spare magazines, and the contents of their flak jacket pockets. Even in a tense situation where a moment's delay could spell his death he wasn't willing to leave such valuable weapons and ammo behind.
At least not now that he had a ride.
After stowing most of the stuff in his pack's spare pockets he shoved the rifles into the woman's arms. That forced her to take her hand from the boy's eyes and she nearly dropped her bundle of possessions; as she juggled to keep hold of it all the boy stared at the bodies in queasy fascination.
Tom regretted that, but he'd needed to free his hands so he could unsling his own rifle from his back. “Come on,” he snapped, starting up the gully towards the waiting ATV. He had to stop after a few steps when he realized neither had followed, the woman looking at the rifles he'd given her with blank incomprehension while the boy continued staring at the bodies.
He raised his voice slightly. “It's now or never!”
With a violent shudder the woman lurched forward, herding her son in front of her. They cautiously edged around the bodies and hurried up the gully after him. “How do they have vehicles?” she asked in a slightly hysterical voice.
Tom could only shrug. He hadn't seen a working vehicle in over half a decade, and even back then they'd been so few and far between that the one he saw drew a crowd of fascinated onlookers. To see one now after so many years, let alone a whole fleet of them, seemed impossible.
“And how did they find us out here?” the woman continued. “Did someone in Grand Junction tell them how to find us?” She paused a beat, then made an annoyed sound when he didn't respond. “Do you think?”
Oh, that one hadn't been rhetorical. “I don't know,” Tom said. They were almost to the four wheeler, and he had more important things to do right at the moment than speculate on the hows and whys of this attack.
Of course it wasn't likely, since Tom hadn't told anyone the options for routes he planned to lead the convoy along for just this reason. He supposed the bandits could've guessed, or searched around likely routes, but it didn't seem worth it for struggling settlers with a few dozen wagons and handcarts.
Maybe they had some other reason for being out here, and stumbling across the convoy was just an unlucky coincidence.
“Could it have been the sheriff?” the woman pressed. “He seemed awfully interested in our business. Or maybe that convoy we passed going the other way just before we changed directions?”
“What part of “I don't know” is confusing you?” Tom snapped. He
reached the ATV, unbuckling his backpack and putting it on the vehicle's cargo rack. Almost at his heels came Skyler, who was staring at the vehicle in open fascination in spite of the terror of their current situation. Tom ignored the boy, getting to work strapping his pack down as he pointed at the spot on the rack next to it. “Stow your stuff and hop on.”
“Wait!” the woman said, turning to look back towards the convoy. A bend near the top of the gully put the cliff wall between them and what was taking place down there, and she started to edge sideways so she could see. “Shouldn't we search for other people who escaped, try to help them?”
Tom grit his teeth as he finished securing his gear and turned to her. “Look, um . . .”
She glanced at him with surprise at the thought he might not know her name, even though she'd never bothered to tell him the few times they'd met. Although he did, of course; he'd heard Simon and his friends talking about her around the campfire plenty of nights, and after traveling for so long he'd at least heard the names of just about everyone in the convoy.
But given her state of panic and likely the beginnings of shock, he thought a formal introduction would settle her down a bit so he could reason with her.
“Kristy,” she said reluctantly.
Tom gave her a polite nod. “Okay, Kristy. There's barely room for two adults and a kid on this ATV, and the bandits are already searching for people who escaped. That's what those two guys down there were doing. Even if we leave now we'll be lucky to get away ourselves.”
Still the flaxen-haired woman edged sideways, worriedly searching for a view of the convoy. “Bob and Vicky and their little girl are down there. They're practically family. I need to see-”
Tom gently but firmly caught her shoulder, turning her so he could stare into her sky blue eyes. “You know we can't help them. I'm sorry, but the best thing we can do is get away while we still can.”
