The Days After (The Tenth Year)

by J. Richardson

  As always, Wayne's mind raced and he considered, can I shoot above her head and take the animal out? Two large brown eyes locked with his. He leaned down and placed his rifle and the pistol. from his waist on the floor. Clayton repeated the move. They backed out of the doorway and moved back down the dark hall with the man and woman behind them. At the front entrance, the general looked at his watch and at Wayne, “I better not see or hear you...” He roughly jerked the woman and took off in a jog. The two men ran back through the building and into the nunnery to retrieve their weapons.

  As they reached the front of the building again, there was the sound of three loud whistles from above them. Wayne looked up and at a third floor window Brent leaned out. “Dad!” he shouted. “Behind the nunnery, they went into the woods where that old bus sits.”

  With Clayton right on his heels, he ran around the building and entered the woods behind the old yellow vehicle.

  Brent pulled back from the window, Allie stood right beside him, “Do you know the woman?” she asked.

  “No, but she wasn't going with the man willingly and he must have been the general, the boss of the tax army. When I walked around the roof and watched, I saw Clayton disappear in the front of the building. I didn't know Dad was with him. They must have been chasing the man and woman.”

  Allie said, “We need to get back to the roof and tell Clay and Angel what we saw. Maybe we can see something from the viewer.”

  Brent hesitated a second and said, “You go and tell them, girl. I am going to follow my dad, he may need help.” He gave her a quick kiss and was gone before she could sass him. She quickly headed for the stairs and the lookout. He had already followed his Dad and friend into the woods by the time she tried to spot him in the viewer.

  The two men were not sure which way the general and his captive moved. The thick woods let very little light filter through and they moved with as much stealth as the branch covered ground allowed. They didn't have to confer, they both knew that not only did they need to rescue the unknown woman, the menacing leader of the tax army needed to be purged. If not, he would always be a threat and he would return better prepared for resistance. As luck would have it, Brent moved much nearer the path of the man and his hostage than his companions.

  Up ahead of him, the young man heard some movement that he truly hoped was his father and friend. Then he heard the low voice, “Well, looks like your friends paid me mind. Or maybe they're lost in these woods.” The movement stopped and Brent stood still. “I just might have time to give you the benefit of my vast experience as a lover.” There was a sharp slapping sound and then the woman's muffled moan of pain. He could see the pair now, the large man had a handful of the woman's hair and pulled her head back.

  Brent inhaled, knew he must move. He readied his rifle and stepped out from the trees. A large vine that was around his ankle threw him face down to the ground and a bullet from the general's pistol whizzed over his prone body. He rolled right back over and aimed his rifle up at the furry enemy and fired. Bang!...Bang! The first shot made the man grab for his gut, below the vest; the second shot that was not from Brent's rifle made a neat hole right above the goggles. Brent lay on the ground, stared at the woman who still held the pistol out with both of her hands. Wayne and Clayton burst through the trees onto the scene.

  The young man scrambled to his feet and the woman lowered her arms. Wayne stepped over to her, “Are you okay...?”

  “Faith,” she said, without a change of her expression, “My name is Faith.” She looked to Brent, “Thank you. Thank you all.” Her neck was bruised and one tear escaped down her scratched cheek. She let her breath out in a soft exhale.

  Clayton reached down and pulled the goggles away from the dead man's face. One eye stared out and one scarred, closed space with no eye was exposed. Wayne looked over and wished that he could feel some regret, some compassion, sorrow for a young and intelligent man that had been caught in the change of the world. He felt none, like the whole city agreed, those that abused women and particularly children deserved no mercy. He had no doubt that when they freed the prisoners of this man, the women would mostly be very young. He extended his hand, the woman grasped it and stepped over the body. The four of them moved out of the woods.

  Far above them on the roof, a rusty colored fluff of hair moved around the edge and watched anxiously. Then the clear voice exclaimed, “It's them! Momma, Clay...I see them! They're coming.” She was away and cleared the stairs two a time, just as the four reached the nunnery courtyard, she ran full speed towards Brent. He twirled her around and they both laughed as they fell on the wet ground, she covered his cold face with small kisses.

  Clay and Angel soon joined them and they all entered the heavy front door of the nunnery. Faith went to light a lamp. As they sat at a simple long narrow table, all the days events so far were told. Clay told them the raiders had been driven out, “The militia attacked through the storefronts on the square and the few survivors, maybe ten, some of them injured, were loaded on one horse drawn wagon and put out of town. They threatened them with death if they returned. The five women prisoners were taken to the Clinic.”

  With this news, Clayton said, “I am going over to the Clinic to check on Dana and the others.”

  Wayne told the story of the earlier ambush battle and how he and Clayton had pursued the general. Brent finished up with the rescue of Faith. Faith sat patiently and listened to all of the recounting. Wayne watched her with curiosity. Of course, she was the face in the window.

  “How long have you lived here, Faith?” he said.

  “Always... forty years. I was born in the hospital and abandoned on the doorstep of the nunnery. The old priest and nuns took care of me and educated me. I never had “the calling” to be a nun, but they were my family, they were so loving and kind, I just stayed. The event came, it changed very little of our simple life. Due to age and illness, one by one they passed away. Still, this was home and I stayed.” Her voice was strong and smooth.

  “Well, who would have fed the birds...right?” he said with a smile. She returned his smile. “I am curious, how did you learn to use a gun?” he said.

  “The old priest was quite competent with weapons, served in the military. After things went bad, he insisted that the nuns and I learn. His weapon was the old .45. He and I took more than one scavenging trip and we managed to acquire a rifle and another pistol. I was a dedicated student and became proficient with his pistol. I had no doubt that I would eventually be alone and would need to protect myself. I would likely have to hunt to survive.”

  Wayne studied her pleasant features, he saw no sign of regret there for the death of her captor. He felt tired, but good. Was is possible that they actually defeated this enemy? With a new security, some peace and the enthusiasm of all of the people of the city, could they really have a chance to build the town back up? For the first time in a lot of years, he believed in the possibility.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Three Funerals and a Wedding

  Clayton pushed on the back door of the Clinic, unlocked, it opened and the sound of chaotic activity assailed him. In a small room to his left, two sheet covered bodies rested. Oh my god...of course, there would've been casualties. Involved in pursuing the leader of the army and doing what he needed to do, he had no time to think about who might have been hurt or worse, who might have been killed. With a knot of fear in his gut, he took a few more steps and the sound of his sister's voice came from the opposite side of the hall, “Clayton, in here.”

  The large figure of his father lay prone on a treatment table and Dana leaned over him, cleaned a wound on his shoulder. “Dad...are you okay?” he stepped up beside the table.

  Dan winced a bit as his daughter tended to the gunshot injury, “I am fine son, it was a through and through shot here at my shoulder. You look intact, are you okay?”

  “I am good.” He looked back around towards the hall, “But, I saw...I mean, who...”

  Dana
said, “Sadly, two casualties; Wayne's friend James and one of the young women from the militia. They both were shot when the militia attacked the remaining raiders on the plaza.”

  “I hate to hear that. What about injuries?” questioned Clayton.

  “Well, there's Dad. The militia leader was shot in the arm, perhaps a half dozen more minor injuries. The five women captives are here. Doc says that he thinks they will survive, except for one of the youngest. She is very sick, maybe pneumonia. We might be able to get her well, time will tell. It seems that the piece of crap general liked to dump buckets of water on them, even in this cold. They had very little clothes and no blankets. One or two of them even have frostbite on some fingers and toes.”

  His sister's words sickened him. He looked at her and said, “Don't worry, the son-of-a-b---h won't be giving anyone else a bath, ever. He is dead. I will tell you the whole story later. I will say that Brent did very well,” he smiled then, “Of course, he did take a little fall, probably be sore and bruised. He is fine though, and little Allie kissed it and made it better, I think.”

  The three of them laughed then and Dana said, “Oh my goodness, what a pair those two are! Impossible not to love them.”

  The young doctor poked his head in the doorway, said “Hi Clayton. Dana would you come help me, as soon as you can?”

  Clayton told his dad goodbye. He wished he could be of some help around here, but compassionate care was not one of his best things. He did find the militia leader, the Doc had fixed up his arm and he argued with him about leaving. The leader insisted that things had to be taken care of, bodies cleared out of town. Clayton assured the leader he would go and see that the business got done.

  Doc looked to the man and said, “You just stay put for a while, let Clayton go and take care of this, you can trust him. If that arm gets infected, you will lose it.”

  To Clayton, Doc said, “Louis went out to the farm to let your mother and the others know that this is done and that Dan is okay. He will return to take your father home. Why don't you stop and talk to Chris for a minute, son. She is in the kitchen, sterilizing. She is pretty exhausted but it's too busy around here, we'll need her for a while.”

  Clayton stopped in the doorway of the kitchen. The old stove crackled away. Even in the winter cold, Chris wiped her arm across her forehead, the heat and steam around her in a warm mist. Two long strides and he stood beside her, “Chris?”

  She turned to him, wet blonde curls edged her face, her shirt and jeans were streaked with darkened blood stains. He pulled her against his chest, encircled her with his arms and kissed the top of her damp head. “Are you okay?”

  Her head stayed on his chest, “Did you see Dad or Brent?”

  He lifted her chin and his hand rested at her neck, “They are both fine, honey. They are not hurt.” Before he could give her the kiss that he so wanted to, she dropped her head back to his chest, wrapped her arms around him. She did not want him to see her cry and she let her breath out in a sob of relief.

  “I need to go,” he said reluctantly and pushed back from her. “I expect the others will follow me shortly. Tell them I have gone to help with the clean up. Angel will give you some relief, I'm sure.” He leaned down and gave her the kiss that he had wanted to, for a long time. She gave as much as she got, and with a husky “Later” he was gone.

  Wayne, Clayton and his uncle organized and joined the clean up, the removal of bodies from the square as well as the ambush location. Dozens of corpses would all need to be carted from the town and buried. The wagon moved around amidst the gory litter that covered the ground. With paper masks covering their mouths and noses, the weary citizens worked to load the wagons with the dead. They made trips to the outskirts of town where the tractor had dug a mass grave. This was the sad and unpleasant price of victory.

  Clayton, tired and sickened, stood above the body of a man that appeared to be younger than himself. Nearby, a thin woman's shape splayed out. Then there was a noise, a muffled cry. He reached down and rolled the woman away; there, a tiny boy curled on his side. Perhaps a year old, his cry shrieked out as the woman was removed. “Oh god,” he said beneath his mask as he lifted up the child.

  Wayne came up behind him, “Damn!” he cursed, “Is he hurt?” The boy was wet from the snow and blood, head to toe. He stopped his wailing for a moment, looked curiously at the two masked men and reached out for Clayton's white cover. He then croaked out a raspy cough.

  “I am going to take him over to the Clinic,” said Clayton. “Have we found any other children?”

  Wayne said in a low voice, “Not alive.” Bad memories of fighting in a war in the middle east, years ago, flooded his mind. As a young man, he learned that it was not just your evil enemy that would die in a battle, no matter how well intentioned and necessary your actions were. “Go,” he said to the younger man.

  At the clinic, the boy was quickly taken by his sister. Dana, walked off down the hall, cooing to the little one, “Hey, little fella...it's okay.”

  He watched her move away and wondered for a moment, what would it have been like to live in America before? He wanted to see Chris, but he hurried back to the work that had to be done.

  Two days later, he stood with Wayne and many other weary citizens at the city cemetery. Finally, the large mass grave on the outside of town had been filled and covered. The citizens wanted to give James and the woman militia member a proper burial in the old city graveyard. Sadly, just as the Doc had feared, the youngest of the female captives had not survived. The young woman, in a weakened condition when captured had not survived the ill treatment by the general. Only one, most certainly, of his murder victims.

  Three graves with simple cross markers lined up in the bright sun of the day. The acapella strains of Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound drifted over the fresh turned earth. No flowers to place on the graves, but Wayne had asked Faith to attend and read some words.

  The woman had her long hair twisted up and covered with a dark scarf, she wore a black coat that was too large for her, well worn, it dropped to her ankles. Her smooth voice quoted a bible passage:

  I have called you by name. You are mine. I will be with you. Because you are precious in my eyes and glorious. And because I love you.

  As they left the cemetery, Wayne spoke to Faith, “I need to ask you something. If the answer is no, I understand. The four other rescued women are going to need a place to stay. Do you think they could stay at the nunnery?” She didn't answer instantly and he hurried on, “I know that you cannot provide food for them...I am amazed that you have taken care of yourself all these years. I...and many others will be happy to help with that. They just need haven.”

  She stopped, placed her gloved hand on his arm and looked at him, “Of course, I will give them haven. I'll be glad to have them. What about the child? I heard there was a boy found.”

  Wayne placed his hand under her arm as they went down a steep and slick area. “The boy was very undernourished and had a cold. Dana and the young doctor have been with him constantly. We don't know yet, providing he gets well, who will take him. Um-m, Faith...you do understand that these women have been treated very badly. I really don't know how they may have been damaged, mentally and physically. Are you sure that you are okay with this?”

  “I will be fine, Wayne. If it's not working out, I will let you know and I am confidant that we can make other arrangements. So, when will you bring them?” she said.

  “If the doctor says they are well, in a couple of days.” The serene woman seemed to him to have a quiet dignity, even in the oversized coat, she nodded and turned to go. “Faith...” her name made her pause and turn back to him, “Thanks, I think the women will be grateful to have a home,” he said.

  She smiled, “They will be company, I've been alone for a long time. Just bring them when they are ready, I'll get some rooms ready.”

  ***

  About two weeks since the battle with the raider tax army. Chris worked long hours
at the Clinic, finally came a little break. Wayne delivered the four rescued women to the nunnery, no one except the small boy remained at the Clinic. Dana spent very little time at the neighborhood house that she shared with Clayton and Jacob, in those two weeks. She or the young doctor cared for the boy, one or both with him at all times. Even though the doctor also had a small house not far from the facility, he too pretty much lived at the Clinic.

  The boy was up and toddled around now, he got over his cold, put on a little weight and was full of mischief. Dana called him “Lucky” and that became his accepted name. When she came into his sight, his little arms reached for her and he already called her Momma. Just the day before, the couple had told everyone; the family first and then the friends, they intended to marry and keep the boy. Dana, Ben, the young doctor and Lucky would be a new family. No one objected to that announcement, no one was really surprised. The attraction between the two had not been a secret and their attachment to the boy was obvious. A wedding at the farm was planned for a week later.

  Chris was glad to be away from the Clinic today. Earlier in the day, Brent and Wayne went hunting in the meadows behind the neighborhood and brought home three plump partridges. When they proudly held them up for Chris to see, she gave them a weary smile. Wayne said, “Tell you what, girl. We are going to clean the birds and I will cook them for supper. Why don't you ask Clayton and Jacob over?” This made her feel instantly better, she hadn't seen Clayton in a couple of days.

  The birds now cooked in a dutch oven on the living room fire, Wayne tended them. On the last Open Day at the warehouse Chris traded for rice and some dried beans and peas. Rice and peas also cooked on the wood fire. A bottle of home made berry wine sat on a table, she had been very pleased with that trade. The five sat around in the small living area, the fire was warm and they shared a bit of wine in bulbous tumblers, some of her mother's favorites. They laughed and talked about the marriage of Dana and Ben. Brent turned on the small television for the news, broadcast only one day a week.