Echoes of a Dying World (Book 1)

by Don M. Esquibel

  We move quickly towards Eli's camp. They'll be expecting the raiding party to be an hour or more, and we want to cut that time in half. It’s difficult navigating the terrain without the aid of flashlights, but we can't risk being spotted. I know we are maneuvering a very thin line of speed and stealth, but every minute that passes my anxiety goes up another notch. They're alright. We'll get there in time. They're alright. We'll get there in time. I repeat these two lines over and over in my head till it becomes its own mantra. I only hope there is truth behind the words.

  The closer we draw to camp, the more cautious our movements become. Eli motions straight ahead, toward a faint orange glow flickering against the night. Their camp. Somewhere within its confines are our girls, subdued and terrified, praying for an escape from the nightmare they’ve fallen victim to. As much as the thought enrages me I also find it strangely steadying, reminding me of what’s at stake.

  We conceal ourselves in the darkness beyond the reach of firelight, mapping out the camp. Every detail matters so that when the bullets start flying, they don’t find us or our girls. Four men sit around the fire on two upturned logs, the sound of their laughter grating inside my skull like nails on chalkboard. It will make silencing them all the better. At the edge of camp is a sight which sets my blood aflame: our girls, bound and gagged and chained to trees like dogs. Any guilt I might have had over what needs to be done vanishes instantly. My body craves action, retribution, but I force myself to remain still. A plan is needed before anything else.

  The tents are arranged in a row, facing the fire some fifty feet away. At their center are the shadowy forms of our captured girls. A shallow gully runs along the opposite edge of the camp from where we stand, a small but steep hillside jutting out on the other side. The hillside is mostly void of trees, limiting their means of escape.

  “That’s Clint there on the right, in the wife beater,” Eli whispers. “Someone’s missing. There should be five of them.”

  “Might be sleeping?” Leon says.

  We grow silent, indecision eating away at us. I’m grateful. The tread of surreptitious feet approaching might have gone unnoticed otherwise. Felix hears what we do not. Without pause or warning he acts, spinning on a dime and dropping to a knee as he brings his pistol to bear. Crack-crack-crack, the blast of the gun so close and unexpected nearly gives me a heart attack. I turn and make out the fallen body some forty feet away, a strapped shotgun lying across the chest. Before I can say or do anything, shouts from the camp sound behind me, immediately followed the thunder of gunfire and bullets zipping past.

  I throw myself to the ground, scrambling for cover behind a thick tree lying to my right. To my left is Leon and Felix, to my right, Eli. Like me, they too use the thick trees as cover. All seem unhurt, Felix already taking aim and returning fire. I follow his example and peer out from behind the trunk to find a shot. One of the four men lies dead, his body slumped across one of the upturned logs where the remaining three are entrenched. A man pops up beside the corpse and I fire three shots in rapid succession. None find their mark. Vibrations ripple through the trunk as bullets riddle its side in return fire. I steady myself and look for another shot. Another man pops up at the edge of the left log. This time I don’t miss, two of my three shots striking true—one through the chest, the other through his throat. Two left.

  The remaining two don’t make the same mistake as their companion, giving us nothing but quick flashes of eyes and foreheads as targets, keeping us at bay with a steady volley of bullets. None of my shots are coming close and I know my magazine is nearly spent. Something needs to change. It takes a minute, but a ceasefire draws between us. I keep my focus, training the AR at the tops of the logs waiting for a shot. None comes. From behind the log, I hear the muttered words of a dispute growing louder and more agitated by the second.

  A figure bolts from behind the log, making a wild dash for freedom as his abandoned companion shouts his cowardice at his back. He doesn’t make it even halfway before a shotgun blast tears open his stomach and he falls to the ground. A clean shot to the head from Felix ends what would have been an agonizing couple minutes of suffering before he died. Only one remains: Clint. I hear nothing but blood rushing in my ears as we wait for him to make his move. The smell of gunpowder lingers in the air, leaving a sour taste on my tongue. I sweep the AR back and forth, back and forth, waiting.

  "This doesn't have to end this way!" Clint calls out from behind the log. The words are unexpected and catch me by surprise. I don't call back until the silence drags on and it becomes clear he's not making a move, verbal or otherwise, until we respond. "From where I'm standing, I don't see an alternative!" I call back.

  "I'm telling you there is!" he shouts. "I'm connected. I know people all over the state, powerful people! Food, meds, sluts...plenty to go around, all you have to do is let me take you there."

  "Oh, yeah?" I ask, playing into the gambit. "And why would you be so generous to us after killing your men?"

  "Way of the world now, isn't it? Kill or be killed? They were fine soldiers, but they can be replaced." The way he speaks of his men, like an old pair of shoes to be thrown away makes my skin crawl. My friends, my family, are everything to me. They are the reason I struggle to survive in this cold world. To lose any of them would be to lose part of myself. To Clint, his men were only a means of survival. They were soldiers: pawns to marshal about as he played king. He'll never comprehend the lengths I would go to, to keep my friends safe from men like him. If he did we might not be here now.

  "I'm telling you, let me go and it's easy street," he yells back. "We can help each other."

  "Tell you what,” I shout. “You come out from behind that log, unarmed, and we'll see what can do about forming an alliance."

  "So you can put a bullet in me the second I show my face?" he yells, voice full of skepticism.

  "It's not like you have many alternatives," I shout. "You think I like raiding camps in the middle of the night? Hell no! Easy street sounds damn good to me. But let's face it, I have the upper hand right now and I'm not folding. So come on out, unarmed, and I swear on everything holy I won't kill you." Silence follows my words. I barely breathe as I wait for his next move. One hand emerges from behind the log, followed by a second, followed by the head, torso, legs of Eli's tormentor. I see no gun on him, but I don't fool myself into believing he's unarmed.

  "Keep him in your sights," I tell Felix and Eli. "Leon, on me." Leon and I leave the safety of the treeline and advance toward Clint, our weapons trained on him. He leers at us as we approach. "I'm unarmed, just like you asked."

  I don't reply, except to pat him down and make sure he is indeed unarmed as Leon covers me. "Felix, untie the girls," I call out as soon as I confirm he's unarmed. His eyes flare angrily. He opens his mouth to protest but his words are lost as I slam the butt of the AR against his jaw, sending him the dirt. He spits a stream of blood. "What the fu—" I slam the AR across his face, silencing him once more. "You're done talking," I say. "I could waste my breath and tell you how deplorable of a human being you are, but I won't bother. You won't be alive long enough for my words to sink in any way."

  "You swore you wouldn't kill me!" he yells as I turn my back on him.

  "I'm not," I reply. "Eli!" I holler towards the tents. He stands and turns my way, the faces of his family inside the tent staring out in wide-eyed disbelief. "Your family all accounted for?" I ask.

  He nods. "They’re a little shaken up, but everyone’s fine." He looks around, eyes glassy. "It's over?" he asks, his voice cracking. "Really over?"

  "Almost," I tell him, motioning him over to where Leon stands sentinel over Clint. I see Felix and the girls stirring from the treeline. I look them over, relief flooding me. I want to rush to their side and put my arms around each and every one of them—to feel the warmth of their bodies against mine, alive and safe. But there is still work to be done. Eli’s face hardens at the sight of his tormentor. Clint sits perfectly still, his
face blank. Numb. He knows his end has come.

  "This is the man who forced you and your family to do his bidding," I tell Eli. “You want your freedom? Take it. I can't give it to you."

  The handgun shakes in Eli's hands, whether from nerves or anger I can’t tell. But his face is set. Determined. And when he speaks his voice comes out steady. "Why couldn't you have just let us go, Clint? You brought this on yourself...I'm not going to let you ruin anyone else's lives." He raises the gun and pulls the trigger, sending a bullet through Clint's head, ending his life. Eli lets the gun fall to his side as he continues to stare down at Clint's lifeless body. I motion for Leon to give us a minute, knowing Eli needs it. Eli may have felt responsible for lives lost during the raids he issued on Clint’s orders, but I'm positive this is the first life he's personally taken. I know too well what he's going through: how there is no way to totally alleviate the mark it leaves on you. But it's something he had to face, had to experience, before he can heal from the deeds he's done. He lets out a strangled roar—part anguish, part retribution, part disgust—lifting his head to the night sky as his body shakes and tears fall from his eyes.

  I put my hand on his shoulder, trying to lend him some small bit of comfort. "You did what you had to. To live in this cold world and not lose yourself to it, takes courage to do what must be done, and the restraint to know where to draw the line. This had to be done. I know it's painful, but that's a good thing: it's the pain that separates us from men like him."

  He looks over at me. "Thank you, Morgan," he says. "I have my family back because of you." I look over my shoulder to where Leon and Felix hold on to our girls, the relief and love emitting from them a beautiful thing to witness. I feel tears forming in my own eyes at the sight. I look back at Eli. "The feeling is mutual," I reply, offering my hand to shake. He clutches it immediately. I'm not sure where this leaves us, but one thing is certain to me in this moment: Eli is no longer my enemy.

  I expected more food from a gang whose been wiping out campsites along the trail, but when we go through their supplies, they have surprisingly little. Bastards must have really been depending on their payday. But they do have something we did not: meat. We eat strips of salted venison and rice around the campfire. I'm ravenous, and for the first time in a long time, I eat my fill. Eli and his family sit beside us, yet it feels as if there's a line dividing our two groups. I suppose there is. While I no longer consider Eli an enemy, I don't know that I can call him a friend either. Amid the joy and relief of being reunited, runs an undercurrent of uneasiness, of tension. It leaves a sour taste in my mouth despite eating the best meal I've had in weeks.

  Now that we've got our girls back, I don't know what to do about Eli and his family. I know on their own, their odds of surviving long term are brutal: a fact I know isn't lost on him. From time to time he casts furtive glances my way, and I have a feeling before long he will ask to join us. It is a question I don't have an answer to. He helped get our girls back, sure—but does that mean I can trust him? Can I be so certain now that he and his family are free, he wouldn't disappear in the night with our supplies, or try and screw us over? I think back to that first day in Denver, when I told the young grocery clerk to make sure whoever he fled the city with he trusted totally and completely, because there wasn't only his life to consider. But the simple truth is I know there’s no way I can trust him totally and completely, not unless I give him a chance. I didn't trust Lauren totally and completely at first either, and now I couldn't imagine my life without her in it.

  "Get out of that head of yours," she tells me now. Her words cut through my thoughts and bring me back to the present. My arms squeeze her closer as she lays against my chest. I haven't wanted to let her go since I got her back. "How did you know?" I ask.

  "Because it's what you do," she says. "Think and worry, and do it all over again."

  "You know me so well," I tease.

  She angles her body so she can face me, and brushes her lips softly against mine. "Yes, I do," she says. "I told you before: do what you think is right. We'll be with you."

  I shake my head and drop my gaze. "I'm not so sure of that."

  She moves my head to meet her eyes once more. "I will be. That you can be sure of." Despite myself, I smile and so does she. "There's the smile I've been looking for," she says. I push my lips to hers, still amazed I'm lucky enough to be here, alive, with such an amazing woman.

  "I love you," I say quietly.

  "Always.”.

  A little while later Eli pulls me to the side as his family settles in for sleep, asking me where we stand. I tell him to get some rest, and that we'll discuss everything in the morning. He looks uneasy, but nods and heads into his tent with his family. I usher my friends into the woods so we will not be overheard. Regardless of what is decided I don't want Eli or his family to hear us discussing them. But before I even get a chance to address the issue, Emily cuts me off. "I know what this is about Morgan, and I'm telling you it's a bad idea."

  "He helped save you guys, Em," Felix says.

  "Because his people abducted us!" she says her voice rising.

  "They weren't his people. They've been blackmailing him to do their dirty work for weeks," Felix argues.

  "What about that first night past Breckenridge?" she counters. Felix has no response and neither do I. It's a valid point. "Exactly!" she says.

  "Wait, you're debating whether or not to let them join us?" Leon asks incredulously. He looks to me and my face is answer enough. "Jesus, Moe. Why? We don't owe them anything."

  "You didn't owe me or Grace anything either, yet here we are," Lauren responds.

  "You and Grace also never tried to sell us out," Maya interjects.

  The group continues to argue among themselves, the why's and why not's. The weight of it all is giving me a headache, making it hard to keep focused on what is being said and who said it. Words like trust, and supplies, and safety, are tossed around and I struggle to keep it all in order. I put my hand against my forehead and try to knead out the dull throbbing, but if anything, it gets worse. It's only when the arguing settles down and there is silence, that I regain my focus. They are all looking to me, waiting on what I have to say.

  "It's a hard choice either way," I say. "We can send them on their way with some guns and supplies. They'll be alright for a while. But let's be honest, how long do you expect them to survive on their own? That's not our fault. Like you said Lee, we don't owe them anything. Joining us brings about its own complications though, the biggest of which being can we trust them? I don't know Eli all that well, but I believe what he told me: that his wife cried herself to sleep every night, haunted by the things they did; that Clint stubbed cigarettes out on his boy’s arm and threatened his daughter in ways that make me sick to my stomach; and that the only reason he stayed was to keep Clint from making good on those threats. I think people can change, and Eli seems like he's trying as hard as he can to do so. He could have sent a kill squad after the three of us when we returned to camp, and let you all be sold off like livestock, but he didn't. He risked his and his family's lives to help us get you back. I don't think there's any way I can totally trust him, but I think I trust him enough. Still, this decision is too big for me to make alone. So we each get a vote. Majority rule. Do we let them join us, or let them walk?"

  Nobody seems eager to be the first to cast their vote. I wait, letting them take the time they need to come to a decision, knowing how important a decision it is. After a minute, Felix is the first one to step up. "Join," he says firmly.

  "Walk," Emily votes.

  "Walk," Maya votes.

  "Join," Grace votes.

  Leon looks at me a moment and then shakes his head. "Walk," he says.

  Lauren looks up, searching my face which I keep as neutral as I can, needing her make her own choice and not what she thinks I want. "Join," she says, finally.

  Of course it would be evenly split, forcing me to make the ultimate decision after all
. I can't say I'm surprised, it's what I've done since the beginning: make the calls and keep us moving forward. But this feels different, though. Or maybe the weight of so many decisions is finally catching up to me. Either way, it's a weight I'll have to learn to live with.

  "Join," I say, the word falling with the weight of a gavel.

  Emily is angry. She doesn't say a word but her silence is like a slap in the face as she storms away towards the campsite. Leon looks at me for a long time in disbelief. I don't feel anger rolling off him like with Emily, but the resigned, disappointed look is just as bad. "I don't like this, Moe," he says, shaking his head. "I really don't like this." He turns his back on me and walks off after Emily.

  I watch him a moment longer before shifting my eyes to Maya. She fidgets uncomfortably across from me, and though I know she won't say so, I can tell she doesn't like this either. "Well...I'm gonna get some sleep," she says. She follows after them but pauses a few feet away, turning to face me again. "I may not trust them, Morgan. But I trust you." She whips her head around and continues to the campsite, leaving me praying her trust in me isn't misplaced.

  Lauren brings her face close to mine. "I'm still with you," she breathes into my ear. She kisses me once and follows the others with Grace in tow.

  It's just Felix and I now, the footsteps of our friends fading in the distance. "I think it's the right call, Moe," he says. "Still, we'll keep an eye on them. Just in case. Go on and get some sleep, I'll take first watch."