Ashes of the World: A Post-Apocalyptic Story (The World Burns Book 2)

by Boyd Craven III

  He had noticed this earlier, that somebody had dragged a deer from this point, the one Bobby was going to give to the kids. He moved slowly, not letting brush scrape against him, choosing his steps carefully. Moving slowly wasn’t an easy thing for Blake. He wanted to rush ahead, find the kids and… That’s where his plan went to hell. He knew he wasn’t going to just shoot the kids from cover. He decided that it’d have to be improvised if and when he found them.

  An hour into his slow journey, he found where the ground had been scuffled and marred by many footprints, scraping leaves aside to the rich dark loam of the forest floor, then the trail seemed to stop. He hunkered down and studied the dirt, trying to make some sort of sense out of things. There wasn’t enough light to see the exact shape of the footprints, but he was willing to bet there were multiple ones represented here. After this though, the trail seemed to stop.

  Looking behind him and fixing his direction firmly in his mind he looked around, letting everything in his vision go slightly out of focus. It was an old deer hunting trick. If you look for the shape of a deer, you usually will end up shooting a stump. If you look over everything, and focus on nothing in general, your eyes will pick up movement and anything out of the ordinary. This is how he usually found what he was hunting… A flicker of an ear, the grass parted in a place where it all should have been standing tall… and sometimes nothing at all, because there was nothing to see.

  A broken branch on a sapling caught his attention. It was about shoulder height on Blake and higher than an animal would have broken. He watched around him, aware that he could be walking into a trap and slowly approached it. A tuft of short brown hair stuck to the sharp edge of the snapped twig. It was hair from a deer. So from what he could tell, the kids met up with someone at this point, and two of them decided to carry the animal, rather than drag it. Smart, but there would still be a trail. It would be harder to follow in the dark, but now he had a good visual starting point, he found he was able to still follow.

  Little clues were found when it wasn’t clear where the ground had been marred by feet. Snapped twigs, bark rubbed off the side of an oak tree by something brushing up against it and other subtle signs. For another hour he slowly followed the trail until the scent of cooking meat and wood smoke filled his nostrils. He didn’t need the trail any longer, and followed the scent and soon was rewarded by the crackling sound and glow of a fire.

  The trail stopped dead at the opening of a field of green alfalfa. A camp had been set up here, and it was far more than Blake wanted to bite off on his own, so he found a good spot to hide and watched. He could see at least ten men around the campfire, where large chunks of venison were spitted and being turned. Many of them were holding bottles of amber liquid, and crude torches were placed around the camp on long poles to give it some semblance of light.

  There were two older trucks, both hitched to trailers. One was what looked to be a bunkhouse style camper, and the other was a flat bed trailer that had a tarp covering a boxy shape. The noise the men were making was loud and obnoxious, and many of them slurred their words as they drank and cussed. The camper’s door slammed open, startling a few of the men, Blake included, and a crying woman was roughly shoved outside followed by a man who was buckling his belt. He stepped off the trailer and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her to her feet and dragging her to the tarp covered boxy shape. The woman disappeared inside.

  Another man walked to it, reached in and disappeared a moment only to pull a new woman out, and she screamed into the night as she was led into the camper. With the door closed, her screams increased and it drove Blake crazy not to do anything. To sit still. He expected to find the kids, or to find where they had gone, but he hadn’t expected a large group. If he tried to intervene now, he would be dead, and his family wouldn’t know what was going on, or what was to come. For the time being, he shut the noise down and concentrated on getting a good headcount.

  Their small group, no matter how well armed would probably die if they tried to assault this camp. Even clever traps or firing from cover would probably not work either. Earlier when he thought he’d saw ten men around the fire, those were the ones standing. Blake moved along the edge of the clearing closer to the tarp covered box and saw another half dozen sleeping or passed out, and he had no clue how many more were in the camper.

  Soft sobs came from under the tarp, and he approached it from the camp’s blind side and lifted the edge. The walls of the cage were made out of cattle panel, the top and sides put together with hog rings. The doorway was made by a squared piece that was only held in place on one side, and a padlock closing the other. The smell of unwashed bodies hit him and something shifted and he was staring into the eyes of a surprisingly clean faced young woman. The description he’d gotten seemed to match Melissa, but he counted another seven forms in there.

  “Please, don’t hurt me. I don’t want a turn,” the young woman whispered, tears running down her face.

  “I won’t. Are you Melissa?” Blake matched her quiet whisper.

  She nodded.

  “I’m Blake; I’m the guy whose homestead you were just at earlier. Is your brother James in here?”

  “No, James’s is in there,” she nodded her head to the camper, “he isn’t my brother.”

  “How many of them are there? The men?” Blake felt a knot of fear shoot through him as other shapes stirred and turned to look at him through the cage.

  “Twenty seven,” a woman whispered, moving close to the side of Melissa.

  Blake reeled. This was worse than he thought.

  “Are you going to kill me? I didn’t mean for Bobby to get hurt. That was James, improvising.”

  “Why would you do this? To sucker us, to have us hurt? If you were free from the camp here, why didn’t you run?”

  “They have my parents, inside the camper. Along with the children.”

  “Children? Do they…?” His question sickened him, and he couldn’t finish the thought. He knew what was happening to the women, but this added a new element, a new twist.

  Nods from the dark figures made his heart hurt.

  “Not all of them and not the littlest ones,” the woman who spoke to me earlier said, “mostly the young ladies. Mostly. I’m Martha, one of the ladies who’d like to get out of here. Can you help?”

  Blake nodded. The horror of the situation didn’t stop Blake’s mind from working, and he had a plan that was starting to form up.

  “Is the group going to send more people to our place?”

  “Yes, they are going to use another young set of kids. Either to beg or steal food. That will hold them over until the rest of them get here, and then they plan on taking your place.”

  “Taking it?”

  “Yeah, they followed a set of trucks to your lane about a week ago and have been checking you out this whole time,” Martha answered.

  “How do you know all of this? If you’re stuck in here.”

  “Pillow talk,” Melissa answered, not looking up, avoiding his gaze.

  “Oh shit,” Blake whispered, “I’m sorry, I’ve got an idea for getting you out, but I can’t do it tonight.”

  “We’ve endured for weeks like this. One or two more turns won’t kill me,” Martha said, and the casual way she said it made Blake’s guts twist.

  “If these kids find or were given some food, how soon would those men eat it?”

  “Right away. They are almost out of food, and that’s why they’re planning on taking your home. If you were smart, you’d send the women away.”

  “I just might… But listen, whenever the kids come back with some food… Don’t eat it that night okay?”

  “You’re going to poison them?”

  “I don’t know. We don’t have as many people as this, so I have to do something. Make sure the kids don’t eat either.”

  “I won’t tell mister,” a muted voice from one of the forms said, and everyone echoed the sentiment.

  “I promise, I’ll b
e back. Early morning after the kids bring the food back.”

  “Be safe,” hands reached through the panel, and Blake touched the palm and gave Martha a quick shake.

  “Tell Bobby that I’m sorry,” Melissa said softly.

  “I will.”

  Blake belly crawled away, slipping into the woods unseen. He had a plan in mind and it was a horrible one. He thought it would work, but it’d bring a horrible death, one he’d never wish on anyone until this day. All the components of the plan were already at the house, so he followed his back to the homestead in the early morning hours, daylight starting to come over the horizon.

  Chapter 9 -

  Everyone was waiting at the house with Blake the last to arrive. Everyone looked weary but Blake called everyone to attention and explained what he found, and what was coming. Not knowing when the big raid was taking place, they fell quiet and he explained everything. They were just as horrified as he was, and when he told them his idea on how to take out a large force like that he was expecting outrage and shock from everyone. Instead, he got a fierce nod from his wife and a vocal agreement from the rest.

  “Then the following morning, we go in quietly and mop up,” Sandra told everyone as the plan came together.

  “We need more help, but can we feed all those women and children here?”

  “We can try, but remember, getting them out is one thing. There is still the other group coming. That’s what I’m worried about.”

  “Do you think we can pull the same trick twice?”

  “I doubt it. I think our best chance is to ambush the second group when it comes to that.”

  “Where are we going to put so many people?” Weston asked, having stayed silent during the briefing.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, I’d like to show you something. Would you care to come with me to the barn?” Duncan asked, smiling for the first time, bowing with an exaggerated flourish.

  “I’ll stay behind. Somebody has to watch Bobby.”

  “Mom…” A weak voice croaked from the recliner and everyone turned to see a bleary eyed Bobby looking around.

  “You’re awake.”

  “Yeah. I was just tired. My ear feels funny,” he was slowly touching the spot where his ear was mended.

  “It’s healing. You get some rest. I think we can leave him here for now and come look at Duncan’s surprise.”

  They made their way to the barn, and the big man didn’t say a word, but lit a lantern and headed into the root cellar. The potato bin was still rolled to the side.

  “Watch this,” Duncan broke the silence and pushed the peg in and the section of the wall swung loose.

  He pushed his way into the doorway and held it up so everyone could enter. The room easily was the size of the barn above it. Thick oaken beams and posts laid out every ten feet supported the structure on top. What stopped everyone dead was what was in the room. Row upon row of old rope beds lined one wall. What looked to be an earthen or clay trough twice as big as a bathtub was holding water.

  Blake ran his hands through the water and smelled it. Not finding any chemical or stagnant smell, he shivered at the realization and looked around.

  “Do you know what this place is?” Lisa was smiling broadly now.

  “I think so.”

  “Oh, I know so. I found a diary,” Duncan held up an oilskin wrapped book, bound in leather.

  “Your grandparents were part of the Underground Railroad?” Sandra asked, pulling her husband close and hugging him tight.

  “No, but probably their grandparents, or whoever owned the land back then. I knew this place was old, but I had no idea…”

  “It gets better.” Duncan had started moving on, holding the lantern high to cast more light.

  “This is seriously cool,” Weston said, a grin on his face. “It’s like a bunker, a hidden bunker. Did you know it was here?”

  “No,” Blake’s voice was quiet.

  At the far end, where the barn should end, was a crude wooden door with a heavy bar. Duncan pulled the bar up and opened it, revealing a small room, and a small square tunnel that went off into the darkness.

  “What Is that?”

  “A tunnel.”

  “Where does it go?”

  “I er… Uh… You know, I’m not sure I’d fit and if I had to turn around…” Duncan stammered.

  “This is amazing,” Lisa beamed to Duncan and pulled him close, kissing him soundly.

  Everyone looked elsewhere and Weston made a couple of polite coughs after a few moments.

  “Give me the lantern,” Sandra took it from her Dad and knelt down.

  She disappeared into the gloom, and even the light was swallowed up by it, it was so dark.

  “Still okay, still okay,” her voice floated back. They waited tense minutes.

  “You guys wait there, I’ll be out in a second. I want to check something out,” she said.

  “Okay, be safe,” Duncan told the gloom.

  “I should have gone in there with her,” Blake told everyone.

  “If you want to go, go?” Weston told him.

  “Maybe I should.”

  “Surprise!!” The shout from behind the group almost knocked everyone off their feet. Sandra had hung the lantern in the doorway to the root cellar and was panting hard.

  “But how did you, you were just…”

  “I’ll have to show you. There’s an old well that looks like it’s boarded over…”

  “An escape tunnel!” Weston almost shouted.

  “Easy kid, you almost blew my ears out,” Lisa said, her arms wrapped around the preacher.

  “More than likely, an entrance. I don’t know if this door can be opened from this side, can it?” Blake asked.

  “Oh sure,” Duncan said.

  “You know, all the excess food in the house that’s crowding everything…”

  “Do you think its dry enough down here?”

  “Yeah, it looks to be as dry as my basement. It has water-“

  “And a toilet of sorts,” Duncan told them and they all turned to stare at him, “Come here, I’ll show you.”

  They walked to the trough, and he pushed aside a rough wooden door to the left of it. Inside was an earthen construction.

  “See, the artesian well that feeds the trough of water has an overflow channel made out of this same clay. The continuously running water keeps it from becoming stagnant. It runs down through here and into this bowl.”

  They all stared at the crude toilet like it was the newest reincarnation of the computer age and marveled at it. Duncan held the lantern up so everyone could see the water coming in from the channel, swirling around and draining out the bottom like modern plumbing.

  “But where does it go?”

  “Probably through clay tiles or a crude septic system. This wall faces downhill so it might just empty out in the hay somewhere…”

  “This is really, really cool,” Weston’s enthusiasm was infectious and Blake smiled back.

  “We’ve been gone long enough, I’m heading back to check on Bobby,” Lisa told them.

  Everyone followed, but Weston was the last one out, rubbing his hands on the doorway before reluctantly letting the door swing shut, the weight of it allowing the locking mechanism to click and the wall was now solid again. They rolled the bin back into place and left the barn. They were still disturbed by what they were going to have to do, but their spirits were buoyed by the discovery. Everyone wanted to read the diary, but for now, they had way too much to do, and everyone was low on sleep.

  +++++

  For two days, they rested and were ready to go, but nothing happened. Bobby was up and on his feet, but he was still wobbly. He was able to take care of himself, if he moved slowly. The effects of the concussion lingered, but another week and he would be fine. As far as the plan went, they all had a bag of beans with them at all times. Mixed beans, and some smoked venison jerky, compliments of the Cayhill’s snare.

  The third day after nothing happ
ened; Blake took the group of snares and set out to the Northeastern edge of the property line and set a string of them, and then set a string of the smaller snares along the edge of the woods for small game. He was on one of the last setups, deciding to build a spring snare. He was whittling the trigger piece when he heard someone approaching. He took his pack off and grabbed his rifle up and backed away slowly, trying to be quiet.

  “Hey, there’s another one.”

  “This one’s empty too.”

  “If we don’t bring some food back, they said they were going to…”

  Two girls stepped into view. Blake had called the younger Cayhills and Melissa kids, but these were girls. Maybe twelve years old. An ugly yellow bruise covered one cheek on the girl on the left, most of her features covered by a hoodie that was pulled tight. Blake considered what he had in his pack of importance and then slid back into the tall grass of the hay, watching the edge of the woods until the kids discovered his pack.

  They started pawing through it, looking over their shoulders nervously. They must have felt Blake’s gaze, because they ended up finding the bags of food and put the rest in the pack and walked hurriedly into the woods. They were almost out of earshot when the girls spoke up just loudly enough for him to hear.

  “Remember, don’t eat any of this tonight.”

  “Do you really believe they’re coming to save us?”

  “I have to. I don’t want to have to start taking turns.”

  Blake waited until they were out of sight and retrieved his pack and ghosted down the hill, wary that there were more people around. They had to start preparations for tonight or tomorrow morning. Now that they had a clock ticking, finishing things up was paramount.

  Chapter 10 –

  Over half of the food from the house had been moved into the barn’s hidden dorms. Bobby eventually made his way down there and tried out one of the rope beds and yelped when the old hemp stretched then broke. Since none of the homestead group was letting him help with the raid, he decided to busy himself down here, and make sure things were ready for those getting rescued. He grabbed some rope from the hardware section of the Walmart truck they looted and started to replace the bed’s ropes.