After the Fall

by Darrel Sparkman

  "These hills ain't been too kind to lawmen—as a general rule. However, times are different now. Everything's different.” Gran looked away, lost in thought for a moment.

  Decision time.

  "Might be we could use some law, now and again. We have some trouble, and don't quite know what to do about it. Why don't you climb off that horse and come with me."

  Walking into the mercantile, she turned at the door and addressed the crowd. “Ya'll go on ‘bout your business. Lon, set some of the men to keep watch. And don't ask me what for because I don't know. We'll be out later."

  Trent followed the woman inside. Trouble lay on a wooden bench at the back of the room. The form looked like a woman, and Trent had no doubt that it was. The blanket was too short to cover all of the body, so they had covered her head, letting the feet show. Her left foot still had on a black lace-up shoe. Homemade. The other foot was bare and bloody. Trent shook his head and sighed. Another killing.

  The old woman seemed frailer now that she was not in front of the townspeople and didn't have to carry the mantle of authority. She did not make any effort to approach the body. Her voice was old gravel, washed in mud and loathing.

  "Someone killed one of our girls. Did things to her.” Her voice broke and her gaze pinned Trent. “We tried to trail whoever did it. The trail just petered out and went away. Left just enough for us to think it's maybe one person, a man."

  Anger colored her voice. “There ain't many people we can't trail in the woods, mister-brand-spankin'-new Marshal. The one that killed her ... just went away.” Her hard gaze pinned him. “You know anything about this?"

  "More than I want to,” Trent admitted. “There have been other killings."

  The old woman kept silent for a few moments as she digested the news, searching his face with eyes that had seen more pain than they should ever have had to see. With a catch in her voice she said, “She was the prettiest girl here. We were hoping to marry her off soon."

  "Gran,” Trent said softly, “I don't mean any disrespect, but I need to look at her. All of her. I have to know if she is the same as the others. You know ... how she was killed.” He inclined his head toward the door. “I wouldn't like to get shot while I am doing it."

  "She's naked,” Gran said.

  Trent nodded, waiting for her decision.

  Finally. “Will it make a difference?"

  "I don't know,” Trent said. “I am kind of new at this."

  She gazed at him with a little humor peeking around her grief. “By the Lord Jehovah, an honest man. You'll never last.” She paused a moment, then said, “Go ahead, Marshal. Please don't touch her."

  Understanding the stubborn pride and moral code these hill people possessed, he said simply, “Of course."

  Leaving the building a few minutes later, he paused outside the door and took in a deep breath. The girl had looked much the same. Maybe a little more hurried in the handiwork, and he needed to think about that some. Her belly sliced open, her pubic hair scalped, and the nipples gone from her breasts. And the brand. What significance a cross, burned into her forehead, had to do with anything, he didn't know. There was a lot he did not know. Too damn many questions. Not enough answers.

  The old woman waited, watering his horse from a bucket, flanked by several men and women. Black hats and full beards on the men, bonnets on the women. Not an old rusted out vehicle anywhere. They probably never had one, maybe didn't even know the world had passed them by—but it was a world going backwards not forward.

  "Well?"

  They all looked at him as Gran asked the question.

  He addressed them all. “Counting this girl, there have been three women killed in this particular way, at least that I know of. There may be others. I don't have a clue about who did it, except he or she is very good in the forest. There hasn't been a sign left anywhere to look at. That's all I know."

  One of the men spoke up around his cud of tobacco. “That ain't much. How d'you figure to keep this from happenin’ again, Lawman?"

  Trent answered truthfully. “I can't. You know that, as well as I do. Before the Fall there were hundreds of thousands of lawmen, maybe a million. Even back then, the law could not protect you from something like this. You have to take care of yourselves, just like you've always done."

  "Well now, that's a right big help."

  Trent smiled ruefully. “I know it isn't much, but it's all I can tell you. For my part, I will do my best, that's the only promise I can give. Meanwhile, you protect your womenfolk. Do not let them go anywhere alone. I do not think this killer likes a crowd. I also think it is a man, from the one heel-print I have seen. He is strong, and a woodsman. There is one other thing. If there is any doubt, shoot to kill."

  "We ‘bout shot you, mister.” The laconic reply came from one of the older men.

  Trent looked pointedly at the man. “That's why I rode down the middle of the street. So there would be no misunderstandings.” Addressing all of them, Trent said, “I know it's a couple of days travel, but if you need me for anything, or find anything I need to know, I'll be at Big Springs."

  As Trent mounted and started to leave, the old woman had a final comment. “You got a badge, lawman?"

  "Yeah, somewhere,” Trent answered, searching his pockets.

  "Better pin it on ... might save you from any ... misunderstandin's."

  Trent reached into his saddlebag and found the badge, and pinned it on his shirt. “You might have a point there, Gran."

  Heading back up the trail toward the standing rocks of Eleven Point Creek, Trent remembered his original mission. Where in hell was Gunny?

  * * * *

  Twilight shaded the clearing as Trent rode up to the campsite. The sound of the water bubbling over the rocks had muffled his approach and he rode unannounced right into trouble.

  Katie leaned against a rock, the campfire between her and one of the soldiers. Wide and muscular, the man was moving around the fire toward her when Trent's voice rang out. “Soldier, I'd like to save your life."

  The big man whirled at the sound of Trent's voice. “What'd you say?"

  "You heard me. Now get back to your own part of the camp."

  "Or you'll do what?” The soldier was half Trent's age and held a short machine pistol, barrel pointing down.

  "I'll kill you,” Trent said simply.

  Contempt in his voice, the soldier said, “I got an automatic in my hand, and your toy pistol is in its holster. Now, I am no hotshot courier like you, but I just have to believe I have got the edge here. I think you are dead meat. As a matter of fact, I think I'll kill you first and then enjoy your woman the rest of the night."

  Trent said quietly, “To do that, you'll have to be able to pull the trigger."

  The man stood facing Trent. “Awww, I heard of you. You are supposed to be some ‘quick draw’ artist, like Wyatt Earp or sumpin'. I never believed those old stories, and I don't believe you."

  "Then kill me."

  Trent calmly stood in front of the soldier and could see the indecision in his expression. A minute ago the soldier was sure he could kill Trent, but now the seeds of doubt were obviously starting to sprout in his mind. To make it worse, the other soldiers were watching. There wasn't any way he could back down without losing respect. Trent could see he was going to try it. Slowly, the barrel of the machine pistol started coming up.

  "Benson, get out of there!” Gunny's voice was bullhorn loud, blasting over the sounds of the river like a pounding fist.

  Walking up to the soldier, Gunny said, “Move, soldier, or I'll be taking a personal interest in makin’ you suffer."

  Benson's gaze shuttled between Trent and Gunny. Grumbling, he lowered his weapon and sidled away toward his side of the camp.

  "That was close,” Trent said.

  "Ah, hell,” Gunny said. “You probably shoulda just shot him. Save yourself the trouble later."

  The lieutenant coming over to them, his boots scrunching in the gravel, interr
upted their conversation. “What's the trouble, Sergeant?"

  Trent answered for him. “Your man Benson was out of line, Lieutenant. I also couldn't help but notice you sitting over there doing nothing about it."

  "Sergeant? I was talking to you."

  "I'll take care of it, sir."

  The lieutenant looked across the fire at Katie. “Very well, then. I don't think the...” he looked her up and down, “Lady was in any danger."

  Trent's fist cracked against the lieutenant's jaw, lifting him off his feet, and the man's shoulders made a scrunching sound as he hit the gravel. Trent reached down and jerked the lieutenant to his feet. Holding the wobbly-legged man upright, Trent breathed a soft warning to him. “Don't you ever speak to her in that tone, Lieutenant. Not now. Not ever. Is that clear?"

  Gunny took over. “Benson, get back over here and take the lieutenant to his bedroll. He must have tripped on something. The rest of you men go back to whatever useless things you were doing. Stanton and Ashe, take first guard. Move!"

  Coming back, Gunny said, “Must be the humidity. Tempers are kinda short around here, and me not even having chow yet.” He looked pointedly at Trent. “You would do well to get that girl out of here. She's trouble, even if it's not her fault."

  While Gunny stirred around the leftover squirrel and fish, Trent went to Katie. “Are you all right?"

  "Sure. I can take care of myself, you know. That really wasn't necessary."

  Trent ignored her show of bravado. He reached out and brushed her hair from her face. “From now on, don't get so far from your weapon. Do not ever go unarmed. Even when you think you are among friends, or if it is just a call of nature. It might make the difference."

  "Yes, Father."

  "And don't be a smartass."

  "And don't you be so jealous of it, Trent. You don't have to win it. I've decided it is already yours."

  Trent pondered that while trying to recover his sagging jaw. Well, now. Still nonplussed, he sat down to talk with Gunny.

  "You out looking for me?"

  "We thought you might be lost,” Trent said with a smile.

  Gunny looked seriously at Trent. “No point in looking for me, boy. There will never be a day you could find me out there. You should know that."

  Trent watched as Gunny abruptly got up and walked away. Now what was that all about?

  * * * *

  Katie and Trent lay in their bedrolls on opposite sides of the fire. With their heads close together, their conversation soft and quiet. He had just told her about the other killing. She lay mute, thinking about it.

  Finally ... “I don't understand the kind of person it takes to do such a thing.” Katie's voice was mildly plaintive in the night.

  "I know,” Trent said. “I did some reading. Even if we did know the type of person that does this, it probably would not put us any closer to catching him."

  "Wait. Whoa. You were reading?"

  Trent grinned. “You don't think I can read? Do you remember the side trip I mentioned? I went to the library in one of the abandoned towns we passed. I didn't find much, the place was a shambles, but there were a few things left.” Trent thought a moment. “Mainly they broke the killings down into four categories: visionary killers—people who hear voices and have visions; mission-oriented—getting rid of a certain group of people; hedonistic killers—they kill for sexual gratification and usually mutilate the victim, and the power-oriented killer—they like to control and dominate."

  "This guy may fit all four,” Katie mused.

  "I know,” Trent said around a yawn, “but we will find him. One way or another."

  He glanced at Katie. Great, he had put her to sleep. Through a hole in the canopy of trees above them, Trent stared at the stars a long time.

  Chapter 9

  THE PREDAWN LIGHT slowly appeared as a white envelope of humidity and fog. Cooler air had moved in during the night and the dense growth and damp ground gave up its moisture in surreal fingers, slowly lifting toward the canopy of leaves above. Water dripped from the leaves, shaken loose by a few twittering sparrows grumping sleepily at the new day.

  The hilltops saw the tip of the sun as it came up, but the valleys between the hills remained shrouded in the gloom of shadow and night.

  John Trent came awake with instant awareness, listening to the sounds of the forest as he opened his eyes. Something was wrong.

  With awareness came action, and Trent silently snaked out of his blanket into the darker shadow of the huge boulder next to him. Breathing shallowly, with his mouth open to give his ears a better chance at hearing, he strained his senses into the dawn.

  Turning slightly, he looked at Katie lying a few feet away, and saw her staring at him. He made a slight hand motion, and after a startled glance around, she slowly moved toward him. Once she gained the shadows, she quickly came to him.

  Without taking his attention from the forest, Trent pointed toward one of the sentries. Slumped over a rock, his posture could easily have been mistaken for slumber.

  Katie's breath felt soft and warm in his ear. “What's wrong?"

  "His gun is missing.” Trent looked across the clearing. He could barely make out the sleeping patrol. Gunny had spread his blankets away from his men, around a bend in the clearing. Trent hoped he was awake. He reached out and pulled Katie to him, his hand unconsciously caressing her hair as his senses filled with her. His mouth touching her ear, he breathed, “Raiders. They're inside the perimeter."

  With hand signals, he had her cover the clearing to the left, while he took the right.

  Trent thought of tossing a rock into the sleeping men, hoping to wake them, but he was too late. Someone tossed something else.

  A serrated round object bounced once with a metallic click on the ground.

  "Is that a...” Katie's astonishment echoed loudly between the rocks. Her indiscretion did not matter.

  "Down!” Trent hurtled his body into hers, dumping her to the ground behind a boulder.

  The roar of the explosion barely muffled the sound of automatic weapons. Ears ringing, Trent rose up from behind a waist high rock and coolly fired. Rushing bodies and gunfire filled the camp. The sleeping squad of soldiers leaped from their bedrolls after the grenade went off and lost three men to gunfire before they went back to earth.

  During a sudden lull in the firing, Trent heard someone screaming. He vaguely remembered seeing a wounded man dragged out of the camp and into the brush. The screaming abruptly stopped.

  Again, the firing picked up. Trent reached for his pack of extra clips for the SKS. He saw Katie grimly shuck out a spent magazine and slap in a spare, never taking her attention from the clearing.

  "Let's show them we're still here."

  Trent's voice stayed level and cool. As Katie came to join him, Trent raked the perimeter of the forest, his SKS firing as fast as he could pull the trigger. Katie's AK-90 roared in short bursts on full auto.

  Suddenly, the clearing was full of rushing figures as the raiders charged their position. Katie's rifle clicked empty and she fumbled with another clip as three men darted toward them. The action of Trent's SKS clacked open, and not having the time to reload, he palmed his Ruger, dropping two raiders as they stormed around the boulder. Katie pulled her small Browning .380 Auto from her ankle holster and shot the third raider just as he lined his sights on Trent. She then turned and expended the rest of the sixteen round clip at the backs of the fleeing raiders.

  Wordlessly, Trent handed her a clip for the AK-90 and covered her while she reloaded. Snapping in the clip, she jacked back the charging handle and was ready, eyes made wide by a rush of adrenaline and trying to look everywhere at once.

  As suddenly as it started, the attack was over. The silence following the brief battle was deafening. Immediately reloading his SKS, Trent positioned Katie between two rocks and slipped into the forest. Single shots punctuated the morning each time he found a wounded raider.

  Gunny and Trent walked into the ca
mp from opposite sides, stopping suddenly as they caught sight of each other. Katie straightened with an audible sigh of relief. The surviving soldiers began drifting out of whatever cover they had found during the brief fight.

  Gunny's anger was scathing. “Look at them, Trent. These soldiers are really something.” Taking a big private by the arm, the same one who had given Katie trouble, he asked, “Where's your weapon, Benson?” The wild-eyed man looked vainly for his MAC-10.

  "That's enough, Sergeant.” The lieutenant walked up, brushing leaves and dirt from his uniform.

  Gunny whirled around. “Enough? Christ! It is not near enough! Not one round fired, Lieutenant. Not a single damned one. These recruits scattered like a bunch of kids. If it had not been for Trent and this girl, we would all be dead."

  "We didn't do so bad.” The lieutenant's voice had a plaintive edge to it. “It could have been worse."

  Walking toward Katie, Trent spoke to Gunny as he went by. “You lost three men, plus your two sentries, Gunny. That is five. Our horses are all gone, plus the pack train. They got what they wanted. The only reason they attacked was to keep us busy. They got it all. All the supplies and ammo you have left is whatever is on your backs.” Coming to Katie, he spoke softly so only she could hear. “Pack our gear. We are leaving."

  She did not waste time arguing, just turned and began throwing their things together, obviously knowing he wanted to keep watch on the forest. She was done in moments.

  Trent turned to Gunny. “You're on your own, Gunny. We are pulling out."

  "You can't leave us, Trent,” the lieutenant blurted out. “The colonel said you were to guide us."

  Ignoring him, Trent spoke to Gunny. “We are drawing too much attention. This crowd is too big. You would do better to break into small groups and scatter. The raiders know you are here. They will dog you the rest of the way home. Katie can take me on in to Big Springs."

  Gunny's voice conveyed his regret as he looked at the remaining men of the patrol. “I will have to stay with them."