by Connor Mccoy
Glen drank his tea and listened to the men chime into the women’s conversation. They paid attention to Eric and Jonno but didn’t defer to them. And in the end, the decisions that were made were their own, although they did incorporate some of Jonno’s ideas.
Glen thought that only made sense. Eric and Jonno didn’t winter here, and these women did. They had the experience of living it, so they best knew how to prepare. There was some talk about how the raid on the town had gone, and then the men got ready to leave.
Millie led them out the back, so Glen could see the children. He was surprised at how many there were. It was like recess time at an elementary school. Or almost. You wouldn’t find a five-year-old sitting in the chicken pen petting the chickens at a school. In fact, wherever he looked, children were playing with animals, petting and loving them. He supposed they were happy here.
They were led out of a smaller door on the side of the stockade and began their walk back. The men took a different route back, traveling past other farmhouses and barns, Eric introducing Glen to the people they met along the way. It seemed clear they had heard of him and there were no suspicious glances or unwelcoming words.
It was mid-afternoon when they made it back to the farmhouse, where the day had started. When they entered through the kitchen door, three men were sitting at the table, which was piled with bread, cheese, and dried fruit.
Glen thought he recognized at least one of the faces from his time in the town. He had been on the periphery of the group surrounding Terror. He was a rough-looking man, with dark hair and a scar above his left eye that made him look as though he had come across something he’d never seen before. The man was heavily muscled, but his expression suggested a sense of humor. Still, this man was no stranger to violence, and Glen was wary.
“Ah,” Eric said, “my informants are back. Have you seen the last raiding party?”
“The raiding party hasn’t returned yet,” said a light-haired man with a crewcut. “And we can’t stay here long. We thought you should know that Tyrell caught a group of three intruders, two women, and one man. In their early twenties, I’d say. And, if I heard right, they were looking for him.” He nodded toward Glen. “He’s got them in Angelica’s house, next to the library. And he told them that you are dead.”
A hot fury burned in Glen’s chest. How dare he tell them he was dead. Then he realized that Angelica might have indicated to Terror that she’d killed him. She wasn’t married to the truth. She would manipulate people around her as long as they let her.
The blonde man exchanged looks with the dark man, who Glen remembered. He dipped his chin in agreement, and the first man looked at Eric and Jonno.
“Tyrell is starting to come apart. He contradicts himself and displays big swings in mood and opinion. This might be the right time to move.” He looked at Glen, “Especially if you want to keep those kids alive.” He looked at the others. “Let’s move.”
They were gone quickly. Eric, Jonno, and Glen took their place at the table. “Help yourself,” Eric said, sliding the plates of food toward Glen.
They spent a few minutes eating before Glen spoke. “Those three, the two women and the man,” he said, “are my responsibility. I brought them here to find medical supplies we needed to treat Christian’s wound. I made some bad decisions, and we ended up separated. I was hoping they would go back to my cabin, but obviously, they went looking for me. I need to get them free.”
“That won’t be easy,” Jonno said, in between bites of food. “But if we take down Tyrell quickly, I think it’s possible we might keep them alive.”
“I notice you call him by his given name, instead of Terror, which is what he likes to be called,” Glen said.
“Why give him more power than he deserves?” Eric asked. “He isn’t Terror. He doesn’t inspire terror. Loathing and fear perhaps, but not terror. We call him by his name. We don’t humor him.”
“Makes sense to me,” Glen said. “I hope my friends didn’t believe him when he said I was dead.”
“How did you meet those three?” Jonno asked. “I thought you were a loner.”
“I am, or maybe I should say I was,” Eric agreed. “They turned up on my doorstep…” He told them the story of finding the three standing at his door, Christian bleeding from a gash in his abdomen. Of how they’d admitted to planning to murder and rob him, and how they had changed their minds when Glen had worked to save Christian’s life.
“I’m glad he’s still alive,” Glen finished. “I wasn’t sure Mia made it back to him in time. But if the three of them are together, he must still be alive.”
“I’m surprised you still want to rescue them,” Eric said, “after they admitted to their plans to kill you.”
“They were stupid and scared,” Glen said. “I don’t think they really had the stomach for it. They may have thought they could go around killing people, but I doubt they could have managed the reality. Especially Sally. I think killing a human being would have broken her. She’s the sensitive type.”
He realized how stupid it sounded the minute the words were out of his mouth. Of course, anyone could kill if they needed to do so. Sally would have wanted to live as much as the others. It would have changed her, of course, but she would have done it.
“It’s just something I need to do,” Glen said. “I barely understand the impulse myself, but it must be done. I can’t imagine going home and living with myself knowing I could have helped but did not.”
“Fair enough,” Eric said. “I won’t turn down your help.”
The three men jumped at a loud knock at the door. Jonno stepped over and opened it. Millie stood there with half a dozen women Glen had not met. They crowded into the kitchen and those who could sat on the remaining chairs. The others remained standing against the wall.
“We want to help,” Millie said. “We are tired of being left behind with the young. We are capable, and there are more than enough of us to split up the duties. If you are planning a strike on the town, then let us join.”
“Millie,” Eric sighed, “we’ve been over and over this. If everyone who raids the town is killed or captured, there must be enough adults left here to run the farm. You know this.”
“If it came to that, there are enough children…” she was interrupted by another knock on the door, this one quiet.
Jonno opened the door to a group of children on the doorstep. Glen noticed that they seem to range in age from about ten to thirteen. They also crowded into the kitchen. Now the room was uncomfortably full, with children sitting on the counters and spilling out into the hall.
“Yes, Jack?” Eric addressed the tallest child, a black-eyed boy with an untidy mop of dark hair.
“We don’t want to be left out either.” Jack spoke loudly, and his cheeks flushed. “We heard the moms talking about being allowed to help, and we want to help, too. We’re big enough. We’ve all been hunting.”
“Hunting an animal is very different than shooting a human being, Jack,” Jonno said. “I wouldn’t want to lay that responsibility on such young people.”
Glen noticed Jonno was careful not to call them children. But Jack’s face turned stony, and he refused to back down.
“We know something that could help,” he said, a little less loudly this time, “and we won’t tell unless you let us help. It’s our town too,” he added.
“What do you know?” Eric asked.
“A secret way into town,” piped a smallish girl with a mop of light brown hair. “No one else knows.”
The other children glared at her, and she clapped her hands over her mouth, her cheeks blushing.
“Come here, Ingrid,” Millie said, and the child pushed through the bodies surrounding her. “If you have information that could help us, you have to share it. Even if we don’t let you join the fight. You know that, don’t you?”
Ingrid nodded her head, her hand still covering her mouth.
“No, Ingrid, don’t tell!” Jack clenched his
hands by his side. “We want to fight too!”
Ingrid removed her hand from her mouth. “I don’t want to fight, Jack. I might get killed. Or a dead person might fall on me, and I’m so little I couldn’t get out from under.” Her eyes got big. “That would be awful,” she whispered.
“No one expects you to fight, Ingrid,” Millie said kindly. “But if you could tell us your secret way in?”
“It’s little,” Ingrid said in a small voice. “Only someone really tiny can get in that way.”
“How tiny, Ingrid?” Jonno knelt beside the girl. “Could Jack fit?”
“Maybe.” Ingrid wrinkled her nose. “I can fit, and Tim, and anybody littler than us.”
Jonno stood up. “Thank you, Ingrid. You don’t have to tell us. If we decide to let Jack and some of the bigger kids help, then you can tell us. But no one as small as you is going into town. It’s going to be very dangerous.”
“You should let me try,” Jack said. “I might be able to get through. Then I could tell our people to be ready. We’d have the advantage on the inside.”
“We’ll talk about it, Jack,” Eric said. “Take everyone back to the compound. I will come see you after the meeting and tell you what we have decided. Okay? I promise to let you know as soon as we make a decision.”
Jack nodded, the air taken out of his sails. “Come on,” he said to the other children. “We got to go back.”
“But Jack,” a boy at the back said, “you said we wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“We’re not,” Jack said. “We’re taking maybe. Now let’s go.”
“That boy is going to make quite the leader someday,” Glen said quietly to Eric as the children filed out, downcast.
“If he lives that long,” Eric said, but he was smiling. “He’ll be a hell of a leader.”
When the smalls, as Glen thought of the children, left, the grownups began again.
“How will you decide who goes and who stays?” Eric asked Millie.
“We’ve already talked it over.” Millie placed a paper on the table and leaned in.
“Plenty of folks at the compound don’t want to fight. They start the set that is left behind. Then we paired up skills. Joan and Betty both are willing to fight and both are good at bartering and figuring out what’s surplus and what’s not. So, we only take one of them. Don Hammond and Delphie both are strong enough to throw bales, so only one of them can fight. We’ve paired up everyone. Anybody with an essential skill who isn’t duplicated must stay behind. We have a list of one third of the adults and older youths who will need to stay behind. Everyone else can fight.” She slid the list over to Eric.
Eric took it and looked it over. “I need to think about this,” he said. “Obviously, we could use the manpower, but I want to consider each person on this list before I give my permission. Can you live with that?”
Millie nodded. “I can, but I can’t speak for anyone else.”
“I have the right to fight if I want to,” said a man standing against the far wall. “I don’t think even you have the right to deny me, Eric.”
“Now, Don,” Eric said “I’m willing to talk to anyone in private who doesn’t like my decisions. But before you run off and get yourself killed, can we at least have a conversation about what the settlement would be losing from my point of view? Would you be willing to hear me out?”
“I suppose,” Don said, “but it’s my life, and it’s my decision.”
“Fair enough,” Eric said. “But it may not come to that. I just want to examine the list. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you all to follow the children back to the compound. I’ll be there shortly.”
To Glen’s surprise, the group filed out without complaint. In just a few minutes the packed kitchen went back to being empty, except for the three men.
“Now,” Eric said, “we need a battle plan.”
Chapter Fourteen
Mia heard the door close and opened her eyes. She was in a sparsely furnished room painted in a soft white color. A dresser and a chair sat across from the single bed where the thug had placed her. There were sounds of footsteps on the stairs, some going up, other going down. Mia thought it must be the thug who was headed down the stairs. And possibly two others leading Sally and Christian up the stairs.
She waited for the door to open, and the other two to be ushered in, but it didn’t happen. She heard doors opening along the hall, then two doors closing. They were to be separated. Well, what did it matter? They were doomed anyway. Two sets of feet went down the stairs.
“Mia!” She heard Christian’s whispered voice down the hall.
She ran to the door. “I’m here,” she called back.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“Of course. Haven’t you ever seen me fake a faint before?” Mia stage-whispered through the crack between the door and the jamb. “I wanted us out of that room.”
“Together would have been better.” Sally joined the conversation from down the hall. “I don’t have anything to pick the lock with.”
“Don’t forget they probably are listening,” Christian said.
“I know,” Mia said. “Do you think Glen’s really dead? If they had his body, don’t you think they would have shown it to us?” She turned her back to the door and slid down to rest against it. She figured she was going to be here for a while and she might as well be comfortable.
“Do you really think he could be alive?” Sally asked. “I’d hate to think he died trying to save Christian from dying.” She let out a faint sob.
“You think it bothers you?” Christian said. “You should be in my skin. I feel awful. And for planning to kill him. I feel like such a chump.”
“Well, I’m going to believe he’s alive,” Mia said. “Until proven otherwise.”
“Me too,” Sally said. “We still could find him. Maybe he’s being held in the basement, and that’s why we got bedrooms instead of a damp cellar? Do you think they’ll feed us?”
Mia felt her own stomach complain of hunger. She sure hoped so. Starving to death wouldn’t be her preferred way to go. She didn’t like that they had separated them, and the fact that they’d put them close enough to talk was telling. She’d put money on there being a fourth room with someone listening in on them.
Not that they’d learn anything significant. But Mia could sew some dissent. The thought made her perversely happy. She just hoped the others would play along.
“Christian,” she said, “where was it you heard that a convoy was planning on marching in and taking over this town? Was it north or south of here?”
“North,” Christian said, automatically.
Good, Mia thought. He understood. Focus them away from the direction of Glen’s cabin. Even if he was dead, his home was the most likely place for Christian, Sally, and Mia to go.
“And when were they going to attack? Because I think that’s the best time for us to plan an escape.” Mia had her fingers crossed that this would bring the desired results.
“Soon, I think,” Christian said. “In the next couple of days.”
“Shouldn’t we warn them?” Sally chimed in. “We might be in danger ourselves.”
“Nah,” Christian said. “Let them figure it out for themselves. If they know it‘s coming, they might put us out on the front line to fight for our lives. Personally, I’d rather wait it out here than get shot up defending a place that doesn’t claim me.”
“Me too,” Sally said.
Mia could tell she wasn’t sure what was going on but wanted to help. Hopefully, Terror’s people wouldn’t be able to pick up on that. Or maybe that was okay. Just because Sally didn’t know what Christian allegedly had heard, that didn’t mean Mia hadn’t. A little confusion couldn’t hurt too much.
She got up off the floor and went to the window. Looking out, she saw she was in a room that looked out on the library. She could see through the windows on the second floor into what looked like a reading room. There was an old man in there
, his head bent over a manuscript of some sort.
It was harder to see into the first floor. The book stacks terminated on either side of every window, blocking the view of the inner portions of the room where Terror held court. Maybe that was why he’d chosen that location. You’d have to go to a lot of trouble to find out what was going on inside. But that also meant they couldn’t easily see what was going on outside.
That she could use to her advantage.
She undid the latch on the window and tried lifting the lower pane. It wouldn’t budge. It probably had been painted shut. But no, there was something else going on here, a place on the frame that had been spackled. She scraped at the spot with her fingernail until the screw that was holding the window shut was revealed. It was the same on the other side.
She didn’t have anything resembling a screwdriver in her pocket. So, if she was going out the window, she’d have to break the glass. She rifled through the dresser drawers, but found only clothes and a few pieces of cheap costume jewelry. The closet was the same. If there ever had been anything useful in this room, it long since had been removed.
There was a loose floorboard in the closet. Mia pried it upward, but before she could see if there was anything hidden there she heard footsteps on the stairs. She quickly closed the closet door and got back on the bed. There was a knock then the knob turned, and the thug walked in with a tray and a plastic grocery bag.
That there were still plastic grocery bags in use years after the last grocery had shut down was horrifying to Mia. Not surprising, really, but guilt-inducing. We’ll all be dead and gone, she thought, and there’ll still be plastic blowing around. She also was pretty sure the plastic bag did not bode well for her now.
“Lunch,” the thug said as he put the tray down on the dresser. He looked her in the eyes as he put his hand into the plastic bag.
“This is not my idea,” he said, pulling a bloodied button-down shirt from the bag. “This was Glen’s,” he said and held it up by the shoulders. There was a bullet hole in the chest and a large blood stain cascading from it.
