by Steven Bird
“Why do you put up with his shit, Willie?” James Ashton asked. James Ashton was a man, who in any other time or place, would have been a neighbor most people would have gladly invited over for weekend barbeques and other such festivities. Though not a bad man at the onset of the collapse, he had been a follower all his life and fell right in with who he saw as the winning team, once the writing was on the wall. He’d started out traveling with a group of individuals from the Little Rock area and ended up joining the McCullough clan, after they had intercepted him and the few remaining survivors from his group when they passed through Aly.
“Mind your damn business!” Blake snarled, overhearing James’s comment to Willie.
“Whatever, man. I’m gonna go make rounds,” James replied, as he extinguished his hand-rolled cigarette and headed for the door.
Looking at Blake, Willie ordered, “Hey, Blake, take your lazy ass out front and make rounds there. James can do the back of the property. There’s no sense in all of us sitting around on our hind ends.”
“I still can’t believe they only left five of us behind,” Mike Watkins replied.
“They must have big plans over at the Hofstadter’s,” Willie stated, as he stood up from the leather recliner they had taken from a neighbor several months prior. Stretching, he said, “I’ve gotta crap,” as he yawned and walked out of the house, heading for the outhouse they’d been using since their septic system had failed early on in the collapse.
Taking a seat on his wooden throne, Willie McCullough grunted, regretting the previous evening’s dinner choices. Damn, he thought, waving his hand in front of his face.
Hearing a powerful gunshot in the distance, Willie stood up and pulled his pants up as fast as he could, bursting out the door and grabbing his AR-15 rifle. He immediately regretted not having taken the time to clean himself properly while he ran toward the sound of cries coming from the front of the house.
Rounding the house, Willie saw Blake laying on his back, writhing in pain. Looking through the 1-4x scope on his rifle, Willie zoomed it to its maximum 4x magnification to see Blake shaking with pain, and it appeared his intestines had spilled out onto the ground around him.
Shouting in agony, Blake screamed, “I can’t feel my legs! I can’t feel my damn legs!”
“Holy shit,” muttered Willie, before he lowered his rifle and ran for cover next to the well-water pump-house.
Unable to stomach Blake’s screams, Willie took aim and fired a round at Blake’s head to silence him. Seeing the bullet strike Blake’s arm and cause him to recoil his arm in pain, only intensifying his screams, Willie shouted, “Damn it, hold still!” and he fired another round. This time, striking Blake in the lower jaw.
Looking through his scope and seeing that once again, Blake’s suffering had only intensified, Willie muttered, “Screw it,” and turned his attention back to the threat at hand.
On the back of the property, James Ashton heard the gunshots and immediately ran for cover into a grove of mature apple trees. Checking that a round was chambered in his Ruger Mini-30, he made a run for the house, only to see Mike Watkins step out onto the back porch of the home.
Shortly after exiting the house, Mike took a hit and slammed back into the wall, leaving a wide streak of red blood down the flaking, yellow-painted siding.
“Shit!” James exclaimed, trying to figure out from which direction the shot had come. Scurrying around the tree and staying as close to it as he could, he heard Willie taking on rapid fire from his position behind the pump-house. “That’s like two or three guns,” James mumbled. “Screw this. I’m out of here.”
Leaving the cover of the apple tree, James ran as hard as he could for the thickly-wooded tree line behind the barn, nestled in a small pasture behind the home.
When he leapt over some thick brush and into the woods, he was met with the butt of a large, heavy rifle, causing him to hit the ground with a violent thud.
When a man with a graying beard kicked his rifle out of reach, James looked up and yelped, “I’m not with them! I’m not with them, I swear!”
Kneeling down and placing his knife against James’s throat, the man said, “You sure look like you’re with them to me. We’ve been watching. Do you know who I am?”
With all the recent events whirling around in his head, James babbled, “No. No, sir. I don’t know you.”
“My name is Isaac Clanton. I’m sure you’ve heard the name being tossed around by your compadres as of late.”
“Uh, yeah. I think so. But I don’t really know anything about it.”
“Don’t know anything about what?” Isaac asked.
“Whatever they’re after you for.”
Putting his knee into James’s stomach, Isaac prodded, “Cut the crap before I cut your throat. Where’s the woman and her kids? And where the hell is the rest of your group? How many of you are here?”
“They… uh… they took her.”
“Took her where? And the kids?”
“Yeah, her and the kids. They took her to the Hofstadter place. Something about Jacob Hofstadter wanting her for a tree.”
Chills ran up Isaac’s spine, hearing James’s words. Good Lord, no, Isaac thought, and his memories of Billy’s fate raced through his mind.
“Please. Please, let me go. I was gonna leave these guys anyway. I swear. I’m not like the rest of them.”
“If you were gonna leave, why were you dutifully making your rounds and pulling guard duty?” Isaac asked. “How many more of you are here?”
“Five, only five,” James stammered.
“Well, more like three by now,” Isaac said in a steely, cold tone. Hearing the exchange of gunfire that’d been coming from the pump-house cease, Isaac said, “Well, more like two, now. Who’s left? Where is he?"
“Kevin… Kevin Watkins,” James replied. “He was asleep in the house, last time I saw him. He worked the perimeter all last night.”
Pulling a small, hand-held radio from his cargo pocket he had retrieved from one of his caches, Isaac keyed the mic and said, “Jess, you there?”
“Yeah,” Jessie replied through the speaker.
“This one says five. He says one was in the house sleeping.”
“He’s never gonna wake up from this nap,” Jessie answered. “Paul caught him trying to slip out a window. We’ve got four down hard.”
Seeing true, unbridled fear in James’s eyes, Isaac asked, “Have you made your peace with God, son?”
“Huh? What?”
“I’ll give you a minute to do so. I don’t think you or your ilk have ever granted such a thing to your victims. But I’m a little more reasonable than you. I’ll let you take advantage of this last and final moment of your life to make things right,” Isaac stated, as he lifted the knife off James’s throat and adjusted it in his hand, rotating it, so the blade now extended from the bottom of his clenched fist.
“Sir, please. Please, let me go. You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to…”
“Boy, I’m giving you a chance you never gave anyone else. If you’re not gonna take advantage of it, so be it,” he said, as he held the knife over James’s eye. Raising his other hand, he clenched his fist and slammed it on top of the hand holding the knife. The impact sent the blade deep into James’s eye socket, piercing his brain. After a moment of spastic twitches and jerks while James’s nerves fired their last and final electrical impulses, Isaac stood up, wiped the blood from his knife, and slid it back into his sheath.
“You didn’t have to do that,” he heard Tina’s voice say from behind him.
Turning around, he saw her standing there with a look that seemed to him to be a combination of confusion and disgust. Looking her squarely in the eye, he said, “Maybe not. But if you take mercy on the coyote you catch in a snare and let it go, don’t be upset when it kills another one of your lambs the following night.”
“He’s not an animal. He’s a human being,” she replied. “There is a difference.”
“We’re joining up,” Jessie said over the radio, breaking the silence of the awkward moment between Isaac and Tina.
“We aren’t done just yet,” Isaac said. “You’re gonna see many more bad, distasteful things before this is all said and done.”
“I know,” she conceded, shaking her head and wiping back a tear. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Isaac replied in a kind, soft voice. Placing his hand on her shoulder and looking her directly in the eye, he explained, “If this came easy, that would be the problem. The fact it’s difficult, reminds you there’s something left in here,” he said, gesturing to her heart. “If killing ever becomes easy… well, I just hope I never get there.”
Joining Isaac and Tina, Jessie looked down at James’s body, with blood and other clear and yellowish liquids running from his eye socket, drenching his shirt. “I thought he was talking.”
“He did talk,” Isaac replied. Seeing Jessie’s expression grow dark, Isaac countered, “Judge me later.”
Exchanging a look of understanding, Jessie changed the subject by saying, “Paul is gathering their weapons and ammunition. I made a quick run through of the home and cleared the barn along the way, as well. There really were just five of them here. That’s nuts. I just don’t understand.”
Gesturing to James’s corpse, Isaac said, “Our friend here confirmed they took Shauna and the kids to the Hofstadter place. That answer scares the hell out of me. Nothing good can come of it.”
“And if they took most of their muscle with them, they expect we might come after her.”
“I’d imagine that’s part of their thinking for sure. I’d also imagine that evil son of a bitch Jacob Hofstadter has plans of retribution in mind,” Isaac replied. “He’s gonna want to make her pay penance for what we’ve done.”
“What we’ve done?” Tina ranted. “We’ve done nothing but defend ourselves!”
“And they’ve suffered losses because of that,” Isaac replied. “The mind of a madman doesn’t use the same logic as me and you. Control comes from many sources: fear being on, which tyrants and madmen such as Jacob Hofstadter have used for millennia. He’ll make an example out of us. That will keep the others in line. It’ll also keep his own men in line and solidify his arrangement with the McCullough clan. I’d imagine the McCullough boys are starting to realize they’ve bitten off more than they can chew with that one.”
“So, what now?” Tina asked.
“This is going to sound crazy, but bear with me for a moment,” Jessie said. “Often times, we forget to look around us for answers to our problems. One of the reasons martial arts is so effective are because its origins come from man’s study of the world around him. The ebb and flow of nature. The battles for survival that take place on a daily basis in the natural world, can be great teachers.”
“Go on,” Isaac said, curious as to where Jessie was going with this.
“This just came to me, as things often seem to do. It came to me in a dream. I had a dream about a bison and a pack of wolves. It was around the spring thaw. The snow was hard, yet melting from the temperature fluctuations between day and night. It would begin to melt during the day, then refreeze at night, leaving a crunchy surface that’s difficult to walk on. Wolves can’t easily take down a bison. It’s not something they would normally take on, as its size and power made it a formidable foe. As long as the bison had sure footing and could stand his ground, he was safe.
“In my dream, the wolves taunted the bison. They harassed him and retreated, over and over, until the bison chased one of the wolves a bit too far off his rocky position of high ground, where his hooves previously found a good, firm purchase.
“Running the wolf into the snow, the bison quickly found himself up to his knees, having to labor just to move. He no longer held the position of high ground, and he could no longer launch quick, powerful counterattacks to pose a formidable threat to the wolves.
“It was as if the wolves had planned to draw him away from his position of advantage. Once the bison’s rage got the best of his patience, the snow turned red with his blood as the wolves took advantage of his less-than-desirable position.”
“This just came to you in a dream?” Isaac skeptically asked.
“Last night, just before we awoke to ascend the hill to your place.”
Pondering on it for a moment, Isaac looked to the sky and then to Jessie. He smiled and said, “Let’s take his advice.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Awakening to the sound of muffled voices all around her, Shauna felt the sun’s rays beating down on her bare, naked skin. Blinking her eyes and attempting to focus, she could see the branches of a large tree overhead. Trying to get up, she quickly found her arms were stretched out to each side, and her feet were tied together.
“Welcome back to the world,” a man’s voice said, and her eyes began to adjust enough to the bright sunlight to bring him into focus.
Quickly looking to her left and then to her right, Shauna could see she was on what appeared to be a wooden cross. “What? What are you doing?” she frantically asked, when she watched the man pick up a hammer and a rusty, three-inch common nail.
Fearing her assumptions were correct, Shauna screamed, “No! No! Let me go, please! Please!” as tears ran down her cheeks.
“Don’t worry,” the man said. “The nails are mostly symbolic. The ropes will hold you in place.”
Hearing a thud followed by a sharp pain, Shauna looked back to her right to see the man with the hammer in his hand, but the nail was nowhere to be seen. Seeing blood start to pool in the palm of her hand, Shauna began to cry uncontrollably while the man stepped around to her other hand, nailing it in place as well.
After stepping back and admiring his handiwork, the man commanded, “Okay, haul her up.”
Hearing another man urge a horse forward, the cross began to move when a rope tied to the top of it grew taut, pulling her across the ground several feet before beginning to lift what was now obvious to her as being a crucifix, high into the air.
While the horse continued moving forward, a rope that had been thrown over a large branch of the mature oak tree, winched the crucifix higher and higher until the man in charge shouted, “That’s enough.”
The rope was then tied off and removed from the saddle, with the horse and rider departing the scene.
Hanging vertically, at what seemed to be four or five feet above the ground, Shauna could feel the weight of her body pulling on her arms, bound by the ropes tied around her wrists. At first, she tried supporting her weight with her feet, which were also bound to the crucifix by ropes, but it was a struggle she simply could not bear for long.
Looking around, she could see at least twenty men, looking up at her naked body hungrily. Some of the men were from the McCullough place, where she and the kids had previously been kept, and others were men she hadn’t seen before. Looking over to the man who appeared to be in charge, Shauna could see a sick look of satisfaction on his face while he scratched his scraggly beard.
“Why? Why?” she sobbed.
“Someone has to pay the penance for what you’ve done. Would you rather it be the children?” he asked.
“No!” she cried out. “Please, God. No!”
Interrupted by the crack from a whip and a searing pain in her side, Shauna looked over to see a large-bellied man with a bushy red beard holding a livestock whip. “Thou shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain,” he reprimanded, as he cracked a smile to reveal a mouth full of rotten teeth.
The man in charge walked directly in front of her and said, “You are not to speak of, or to, the Lord thy God, while you are on the Tree of Penance. Is
that understood?”
Disoriented and confused, Shauna nodded in the affirmative.
“Good,” he said, looking up at her lustfully. “My name is Jacob Hofstadter. This is my family’s homestead. We’ve been here three generations, and this tree has become a symbol of what we stand for. You see, we don’t tolerate anyone harming our people. My granddaddy, who lies beneath the roots of this tree, will testify to that fact when you meet him in hell.”
Grinning, he continued, “I guess you could say, he’s the founding member of the blood spilled on this tree.”
“Why are you doing this?” she pleaded as tears flowed from her eyes.
“They’re gonna come for you. I know they will. And when they do, they’ll pay their penance alongside you. But until they get here, you can be our entertainment… One way or another, we’ll make you scream.”
Watching when the man identifying himself as Jacob Hofstadter turned and walked away, giving a nod to several of his followers, Shauna slumped down and allowed the ropes to support her weight on the cross. It was painful, but her shaky legs no longer had the strength to continue to battle gravity. For now, gravity had won.
~~~~
While a truckload of Hofstadter men made their rounds through the area surrounding the Hofstadter place, they laughed and joked at Shauna’s suffering. In the driver’s seat was Zack McCullough. Zack was a fit, young man in his mid-twenties, and seemed to fit right in with the Hofstadter boys better than some. His crude, heartless outlook on life meshed very well with their cruel, unfeeling ways.
Beside him in the passenger’s seat was Teddy Hofstadter. Teddy was among the youngest in the Hofstadter clan at nineteen years old, though his hard life tended to make him look a few years beyond his biological age.
In the backseat was Kyle Weaver. Not being a blood member of either family, Kyle was brought into the fold shortly after the collapse, after being confronted by the McCullough clan while traveling through the area, along with others who had begun to flee the cities.
