Avalon: The Retreat

by Rusin, L. Michael

The smaller box contained dynamite caps, the non-electric type. They almost didn’t see another box that contained fuses, the burning kind that can be lit with a match. She examined the dynamite carefully and it didn’t appear to have any nitro leaking out of it anywhere. It was customary to turn the box 180 degrees periodically to prevent leakage.

  They dragged the boxes out of the cave and decided they were keepers. She loaded about twenty sticks with the caps and fuses by making a hole in the stick of dynamite on one end in the center, placing a twelve inch fuse in the cap, crimping the fuse with a pair of crimping pliers that were in the box with the fuses, and then burying it down into the stick.

  The twelve-inch fuse had about a thirty-second delay. To be sure, they took a piece off the roll and lit it to see how long it would take and thirty-seconds was adequate for their purposes. Beth measured it from her index finger to her elbow, just a little more than twelve inches, but good enough. The critical point was the second hand on her watch and although it didn’t have to be exact, she needed it to be fairly accurate. It was a measurement her dad used to say was a “just about” since it needed to be “just about so long.”

  After they had supper, the children got re-energized and went outside to play. As darkness settled in on them they turned in for the night, only this time they posted sentries. In the morning they would continue pushing forward toward that big ranch up there in those mountains. She said a small prayer that it was still there when they arrived!

  Chapter 26 The Children’s Brigade

  Beth’s small group moved away from the cabin and mine with reluctance. They did the charitable thing and buried the three sets of bones before leaving with the picks and shovel they found at the excavation site. Beth split the loads of gold, dynamite, and food between all the children before they moved out in single file.

  The going was somewhat cooler though still difficult due to the terrain. It was rocky but in the shade from the tall ponderosa pines it was less of a challenge. They stopped frequently so the smaller children, like Glory, could remove the load they carried and rest. The fierce and persistent gnats and biting flies buzzing around their faces tormented them all.

  After the brief rest, they pushed on. Beth frequently took out her small pocket compass, which guided them due north. Traveling a compass course wasn’t like putting the needle on north and walking. The changes were frequent and had to be adjusted in order to stay on track.

  After three hours of walking, broken up by fifteen minute rests every hour, they came out of the thinning trees and arrived on an old dirt road that ran both north and south. It was tempting to follow it north but she knew that was a foolish move. Traveling on an open road provided little protection. In fact, it would expose them to anything or anyone coming or going, and since her group consisted mostly of children, she couldn’t risk the contact.

  The rocky outcroppings were long behind them and the trees were getting fewer, making the group vulnerable here. She needed to move them to an area with more places to hide or somewhere that offered more protection. She heard them coming well before they reached her and her group.

  “Run toward the trees,” she screamed at the children. “Run!”

  They ran deeper into the trees and she yelled, “Stop! Quick, lay down on the ground!”

  Everyone went down on their stomachs, hugging the dirt. Seconds later the Slavers cruised by on dirt bikes, oblivious to the small mounds off to one side. They passed, leaving a large dust cloud hovering in some places and swirling in others. She decided it was going to be a better plan to go back into the trees than to stay out here exposed like they were. That was close.

  “They’re gone. Everyone move back toward the trees.” Beth said in a loud voice after reconsidering her strategy, “Quickly!”

  The small group trudged back into the sparse trees and turned north. As they walked the trees became separated by larger distances, stretching off into long rolling yellow grass-covered hills. She saw a few rock outcroppings here and there but no wide profusion of them. The trees stood alone or in small groups separated by as much as several hundred feet before coming to another.

  The road was down and away from them as they traveled this high prominence, and it was unlikely they would be seen unless they remained here for a long time. Several children whined about wanting to rest but she drove them on. They had to find another place with more cover away from this highly exposed area where they found themselves.

  In another hour they were on higher ground and there were thickets of trees again. Here, under the pines and the scatterings of golden Madrona trees, they found a level spot that was under a heavy accumulation of pines, peeled off their loads, and sat or laid down in the shade. Beth asked the boys carrying the water to go among the others and make sure they drank some of it.

  It would have been easy to close her eyes and fall off to sleep. She was nodding as her mind raced off into a distant time and she was at Quantico, Virginia on the firing line. The command to stop firing was given and the students stopped shooting. She knew she did well; her dad taught her early on how to shoot and she was good at it. The targets were reeled in and her instructor eyed her grouping and grunted but smiled at her and moved to the next target and student. Her hits were all in the center, a nice grouping sitting inside a space the size of an apple; the guy would be dead if it had actually been a man. The student next to her was admiring her grouping.

  “Nice group, little lady. Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

  A tugging at her arm caused the dream to evaporate. It was one of the smaller girls from the group and she was holding something in her hand. It wriggled and squirmed and the girl said,

  “Look at the big worm I found.”

  Beth looked at it and suddenly found herself backing away as she scooted on her butt. She slapped the girls arm and the baby rattler fell to the ground, then she shoved the girl away from it and the child fell to the ground, rolled, and began to cry. Beth stomped the small snake repeatedly until she was satisfied it was dead and said,

  “Where’d you find that thing?” she asked in a loud voice, trying not to scare the child any further. “Where?”

  The girl pointed and there were other children dancing around the small snakes that were coming out of a small hole in the ground. As Beth screamed, they turned and looked at her like little robots.

  “Get away from those things!”

  The children understood there was danger in Beth’s voice and as they moved away from the snakes, she ran over to them and stomped the snakes to death. When she was satisfied they were all dead she asked,

  “Was anyone bitten by those things?”

  They didn’t speak; they were too afraid. She examined the children and checked their arms, hands, and legs for any tell-tale signs of bites and was satisfied that they had gotten lucky this time. There were no obvious bites, so she raised her head to the blue sky above and said under her breath.

  “Thank you, God, for sparing these children one more time.” She regained her composure before addressing the group with a finality in her voice.

  “Let’s go; we’re moving away from this spot.”

  The kids picked up their packs and loads and moved out. They walked slowly away toward the north grumbling and complaining. Beth absentmindedly took out her compass and looked at it. Satisfied with what she saw, she walked to the front of the children and took the lead.

  In another hour they were all tired so she decided it was a good place for a break.

  “Look around,” she instructed, not wanting to risk another bad decision. “Make sure there’re no more worms or ant hills and be careful where you sit down.”

  “There are bees coming out of the ground over here,” Jimmy yelled.

  They moved again and this time there was no danger to the children when they all sat down and removed the loads they carried.

  Beth looked around and saw they were on the side of a large sweeping hill that was laid out in a rolling und
ulating panorama of one yellow hill merging into the next, and it was that way as far as she could see. Once again they were in an exposed situation only this time they couldn’t move on; they were going to be here for awhile. There was no way they could adjust their position but on second look, she saw, way down below the hills, what appeared to be a winding valley.

  It might be an old creek or river bed that snaked its way through the hills. The cottonwood trees appeared to follow some sort of path, and where there are green trees there is water, she surmised, and the walk was only a couple of miles. If she was wrong, the climb back up here on this prominent place was going to be grueling. No matter where they went from here, other than down to those trees, it was going to be uphill all the way. She decided to go for it once everyone was rested. She was tired and knew they were as well.

  In an hour they headed down toward the small valley below. It was a steep walk and she worried the whole time that someone would fall and roll down that long hill like a bouncing ball. In a couple of hours they were under a clump of cottonwood trees and no one was any worse for the trek, other than being tired. The children talked and laughed, and Beth thought they were beginning to sound more like normal children again, especially considering how meek and scared they were when she first met them.

  She decided to get some food out so they all could eat a little. She had a dozen cans of applesauce to top off their meal of canned spaghetti and mini meatballs. One water container from Glory’s hidden closet was empty and they left it there. What remained were the full canteens and the other five gallon bottle. She decided to split it between the full bottle and the empty one but there was no lid or stopper and it would probably slosh around if she did that.

  Changing her mind, she decided against that plan; they couldn’t afford to lose a single drop. There was no water here in this place but she did have a plan. When they finished eating she had them bury the trash; it was best to leave this place as unnoticeable as they could in case anyone came along behind them. They kept several of the empty cans for later.

  After a few of hours of walking along the old creek bed, they came to an area that displayed a large outcropping of enormous rocks jutting out of the ground and camped below one of them for the night. It was a cold night, so the children slept together in a group like puppies to keep warm.

  Beth dug a hole in the middle of the creek bed, cut some vegetation from the plants growing at random, and lined the hole with the green vegetation. She set one of the applesauce cans down in the hole, spread a piece of plastic sheeting over the hole, and put rocks around the edges of the plastic to hold it in place. Then she cut a small hole in the middle of the plastic and placed a small rock in the middle of the sheet and it stretched it downward to make it look a bit like a crater.

  In the morning, hopefully, there would be some water in the applesauce can from the humidity of the ground and the vegetation. She turned in for the night after she set up another couple of the older kids with rifles to stand guard.

  In the morning they finished the last of the food, thankful that everyone was sufficiently full. The water was going fast so she went over to her homemade water still and saw that the can was half full. She tried it and it tasted like applesauce so she drank it all, dismantled the still, and put everything in her pack.

  It was almost time to move out. She gathered the boys with rifles and pistols and drew a picture of a circle on the ground with a stick.

  “This circle is your target,” she looked up at the boys to make sure they understood her.

  Then she drew the letter “U” just below the circle and said,

  “This is the rear sight on the pistols and rifles.” All eyes were on her. “Can everyone see that?”

  Then she drew a double line inside of the “U” and connected the two vertical lines with a small bar at the top of them.

  “This represents the front sight on the weapons; notice that the distance between the two sides is the same and the circle sits on top of the sights. When you sight in on a target take a breath, hold it, and place the sights on the target just like this drawing. Squeeze the trigger slowly and when your weapon fires it should be a surprise. If you squeeze it quickly, you will jerk the rifle and miss what you’re aiming at; any questions?”

  Many of them nodded to show they understood.

  “To help you shoot straight, steady your rifle on the ground, against a tree, or resting on anything that’s solid. It will help keep it from weaving around. You must have the sights on your target if you expect to hit it.”

  She had little to validate that they “got it” other than to have them repeat it all back to her. “Okay Tom, go over what I said.”

  They listened to him as he gave it back nearly word for word.

  “Very good, now you do the same.” They all repeated what she said until she was satisfied that they understood. It was imperative that they did because their lives, and hers it seemed, could very well depend on it.

  “Okay boys, one last thing. We don’t have tons of bullets so every shot must be a good one; if you miss it could be the cause of one or all of us dying. If you do it the way I just showed you, you’re going to do just fine. We have to make every shot fired count, understand?”

  She looked over at the youngster, who was an NRA member and asked him directly, “What was your best shot?”

  “Excuse me?” he asked, a bit surprised that his score would matter at this point and not fully understanding where she was coming from.

  “How far was the best shot you ever fired?” She reworded the question.

  A look of understanding came on his face and he said without hesitation, “Three hundred yards.”

  “You aren’t lying to me, are you?” Beth had to be sure. “This isn’t the time for showing off.”

  “No Ma’am,” he replied, with eyes annoyed at the thought of being doubted. “I got a trophy and everything.”

  “Okay, you will be the group’s sniper. Are you afraid to kill someone?”

  “If it’s a Slaver,” he nearly spat it out, “I have no problem.”

  “What’s your name?” Beth asked, realizing that “sniper” probably wasn’t a valid name.

  “Jasper, ma’am,” he said in a very polite manner, extending his neck a bit as his name rolled out, “Jasper Smith.”

  She believed he had made the shot because he said it with a conviction that was unmistakable. She turned to the others, looked each one in the eye, and asked them the same question… and they all had a hard look as they nodded their heads.

  “You have to be sure boys” This was a time that called for unadulterated honesty. “This isn’t a game; it is all about whether any of us will live or die after the dust settles.”

  She looked at them and was satisfied they would be able to shoot if necessary. They would be tested for real if and when the time came.

  She knew an agent who was a boastful kind of guy and always talked about if and when the time came to face off with a bad guy, and to listen to him tell the story, he was all heroes rolled up into one man. He was shot in the head during the first firefight because he hesitated, even though he had the advantage of the draw.

  So much for the big mouth hero.

  They didn’t have long to wait to test their skills. As they continued through the small valley following the old creek, they came to an opening and dead ahead was a camp of Slavers with tents set up and motorcycles parked all over the place. Some of them were riding in circles and shooting guns into the air. Dust was spreading into the air resembling an explosion.

  They were screaming and yelling and just having a great time. Off to one side below some small trees were captives tied to a rope that stretched between two of the sturdier trees. They looked pitiful, gaunt, dirty, and listless, as if the energy inside of each of them was gone. There were three men and four women. There were no children in sight.

  Beth backed away a few hundred yards and the group waited until it was dark and until she ha
d discussed the plan with the older, armed boys. They would sneak in and see what they could do for the captives and retrieve the food, if there was any. They were to be sharp; no talking and no noise. Each boy not only had a sidearm, but also a rifle or shotgun and a sheath knife. In addition, she gave each boy three sticks of dynamite and several matches out of her precious little stockpile. The younger children were sent further back and away from harm. On her command the boys moved slowly toward the camp, crouched over. She placed Jasper in the middle and behind her.

  The camp was well lit with flares tied to poles and burning with an evil-looking, malevolent red glow. The whole camp flickered with red shadows and the smell of sulfur. Three boys went right, three went left, and Beth would come from straight on. She looked to see where her boys were and was satisfied with their positions. Jasper lay on the ground and spread his legs apart wide as he was taught to do and steadied himself for the first shot.

  She lit the fuse of one stick and counted to ten by saying one thousand, two thousand… and tossed the first stick next to the largest of the tents. It went off with a deafening explosion. It even surprised her how loud it was and dirt rained down over her. There were several Slavers standing by one of the campfires and they were thrown up into the air and then back down to the ground. Others heard the first shots and as the Slavers stood up they fell right back down.

  Several came out of the other tents and a second stick was thrown close by. Another huge explosion threw them into the air and Beth wasn’t sure, but it looked like a lot of pieces of them were flying around. The explosion and the subsequent shock wave hit her and it felt as if someone had slammed her with a hard pillow. She discovered her nose was bleeding and thought she might have a concussion from the blast.

  Shots were being fired but she couldn’t tell from where they were coming, then she saw the shooter. He was off to the side of the camp with a shotgun and was firing wildly at shadows. She took careful aim and squeezed the trigger; he went down. Another Slaver was shooting wildly at anything that seemed to move and she took aim but before she could fire, a shot rang out and he spun around and went down.