The Last Legend

by Ernie Lindsey

  Kneeling above me, Finn shakes my shoulders again. “Caroline? Wake up.”

  I nudge him away and sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. I’m tired, still, because a couple hours of rest wasn’t enough.

  We ran and ran through the woods all day and well into the night, putting miles between us and the DAV vanguard. We ran until our lungs ached and our legs gave out from exhaustion. We passed a number of families from my encampment and told them to hurry, to keep going, but they were weak—unused to the exertion over unfamiliar terrain as they carried children on their backs and trudged up hillsides.

  They cowered at the sight of the Republicons with me but begged to come with us for protection. It was hard to say no—difficult decisions are never easy—but I did, because they would surely slow us down. Still, I felt like I was putting them in the DAV’s slavery chains myself.

  James and his followers kept up easily, and it was I who eventually gave out and ordered the time to rest.

  And now, here we are, on a new morning, but dawn does not bring fresh hope.

  Finn says, “Marla thinks she saw a few DAV soldiers a couple of miles back. They must be sending runners ahead of the vanguard.”

  The thought of immediate danger wakes me up fully, and I climb out from underneath the layer of limbs and leaves I’d erected to protect myself from the rain. “And you’re just now waking me up?”

  “She got back a couple of minutes ago.”

  “Are the others ready?”

  “Most of them. Rawley’s not here yet.”

  Before we slept, I’d asked for volunteers to stay on watch. Four Republicons raised their hands. It was unexpected, but appreciated.

  Marla went north, back toward the advancing army. Little Blake went east, Big Blake went west, and Rawley went south.

  I tell Finn, “We have to go. We’ll find him on the way.”

  “James won’t go without him.”

  “Then we go without them, understood?”

  Finn studies me, chews his bottom lip, and opens his mouth to speak, but stops. He knows I won’t change my mind.

  We find the rest congregating underneath the limbs of a tall pine tree, out of the rain. Every set of eyes is on me, waiting. I had told James that I was in charge, yet it’s an awkward feeling having them be so dependent on what I say next. If they want their reward, so be it. “No Rawley?” I ask.

  James shakes his head.

  “We can’t wait on him, not if Marla saw them coming.”

  James hefts his two packs higher onto his shoulders and rocks back and forth, anxiously looking back in the direction we came from.

  “We’ll find him on the way, okay? I promise.”

  But it’s a false promise, because I have no way of knowing if we will. I instructed him not to go too far, and Rawley’s definition of “too far” might be completely different than mine. It’s a small valley, maybe a mile across, and he could be anywhere.

  James says, “Suppose he comes back and we’re not here. What then? What if those blackcoats spot him?”

  It’s a valid point, and I try to think of something to convince him otherwise. “Maybe he decided to wait on us. That’s possible, right? Before we went to sleep, you told me he could be lazy sometimes, didn’t you? He probably fell asleep, or maybe he figures he can wait on us to come to him instead of hiking all the way back. He knows where we’re going.”

  “It’s not like him. He’s lazy, but he’s not stupid.”

  “James, we can’t—Marla, how close were they?”

  “Too close.”

  “How long do we have?”

  “Not long. They weren’t moving fast, but they weren’t taking their time either.”

  “How far?”

  “By now? Less than a half a mile, if that.”

  It occurs to me that if they’re that close, then they’ve captured the families that we passed yesterday, the ones we left behind. They belong to the DAV now, and who knows what they’ll be forced to do. My cheeks go numb.

  I’m a horrible leader.

  Yet if we don’t do something, if we don’t move now, there’ll be thousands upon thousands, instead of dozens.

  I can’t risk the freedom of so many to wait on a single man. Rawley helped save us, and I became familiar with him during our escape yesterday, but he’s still a Republicon. It’s a horrible thought, but his life isn’t worth the multitude of others.

  Is it? Is the single life of someone who saved mine worth risking the freedom of my people?

  They’re all staring at me, waiting on me to make a decision. Dirty, uneasy faces, begging me with their eyes to wait on the man they consider a brother.

  I don’t want to be in this position. I want James to say something. I want him to decide. I want someone else to be in charge.

  But it’s not happening.

  Will they understand? Will they still follow Finn and me back to the capital? Will they protect us from other clans of Republicons? Will they act like I made the right decision and then kill us in our sleep?

  So many questions I don’t have answers to, and as much as it pains me to admit it, I can almost understand how difficult it must have been for Hawkins in his position as General Chief. There is so much to consider when you’re in charge of so many lives.

  We hear a pop of gunfire somewhere to the north of us, and it’s difficult to tell how far away, but it’s close. Close enough to make my choice for me.

  “Finn and I have to go. It’s the only way. Stay if you want, but we have to protect the Republic.”

  James stares northward with his fingers hooked through the straps of the packs he’s carrying. His shoulders droop. He lowers his chin. “Okay,” he mumbles.

  “Are you sure?” I understand that it’s not something a leader should ask, and we’re wasting valuable time by hesitating, but I don’t want him to make a decision he’ll regret later, not if it means he’ll eventually change his mind and leave us stranded, or do something worse.

  “I said we’d protect you, and I keep my word.”

  That’s all I need to hear.

  13

  We find Rawley an hour later, hanging from a tree by his neck, swinging in the wind. James acts like he’s not angry with me, but I know he is because he won’t look me in the eyes when he speaks. I’m responsible, because I’m the one that sent Rawley south, but unlike Hawkins who sent Brandon with me, to his death, I feel regret so overwhelming that I have to sit down on a fallen oak and cover my face to keep the others from seeing my tears.

  If it hadn’t been Rawley, it would’ve been one of the others.

  James can only guess what happened. The DAV hasn’t made it this far south yet, and according to him, other groups of Republicons don’t usually do harm to their own kind. They’ll often meet and trade and raid together.

  “Unless…” he says, peering through the thick growth of forest around us. “Oh, no.”

  I wipe my cheeks and stand. “What’s wrong?”

  “We might be in trouble.”

  “Why?”

  “I think it’s Crockett’s group.” There’s an audible gasp from the other Republicons. Mumbling and worried faces.

  Finn takes a gulp from his water pouch and swipes at his mouth with a sleeve. “Who’s Crockett?”

  James points to his right. “You see that ridge over there? The one with the three pines on top of it?”

  I follow his finger, and, off in the distance, I see what he’s talking about. Three lone pines stand in an unnatural clearing. I know it’s man-made because where we are, in the unpopulated thickness of the forest around us, someone had to have cut the other trees down on purpose. There are no nearby towns, no swaths of cleared land where the Elders said tall, metal towers used to stand, carrying electricity to homes and buildings back in the Olden Days.

  James says, “That’s a territory marker. We all use them. If you can see one that’s not your own, then you know you’re on someone else’s grounds. Most of the other
s don’t mind as long as you’re just passing through, but not Crockett.”

  “And we’re on his land?” I ask. “You think he killed Rawley?”

  “Not he. She. You think we’re bad? She’s the worst.”

  “And you were just going to let us go through her territory without warning us? What were you thinking?”

  “I didn’t know, Caroline. The last I heard, she was raiding a hundred miles west. She must’ve moved in and taken over.”

  “But back at the camp, you said you came up from the south.”

  “Southeast. We were ten miles from here. There’s no way we could’ve known. We could be on the edge of her grounds or we could be right in the middle of it. And if that’s the case, then maybe we can head back north a bit and circle around to the side, but it could delay us by a day or more.”

  “Not with the runners behind us.”

  “True. That’s out of one bee’s nest and into another. If we’re on her land, then we’ll just have to hope she’s out with a raiding party somewhere so we can cut through as fast as possible.”

  “How do we know where her land starts and ends?”

  “Look for another marker.”

  “Where?”

  James points up the hillside and behind me. “We can probably see from up there, from the top of that other ridge. If there’s another one east of here, that’s not good.”

  I regret having to waste the time to look for another marker, especially with the DAV runners not far behind, but we have to know our options. I almost want there to be another one across the hill because I’d rather run straight through than waste a day trying to find a safer way around the edges of Crockett’s territory.

  The one they call Squirrel raises his hand and says, “I’ll go.” He’s small, and if he were any thinner, I’d be able to see his bones beneath his skin. His two front teeth are big, adding another layer of appropriateness to his name. Squirrel is the fastest one in their group, and I know he could easily beat me up the hill, but I feel responsible for what happened to Rawley, who’s swaying in the wind overhead.

  It’s guilt, more than anything, that causes me to say, “I’m going with you. Finn, help them get Rawley down. We don’t have time to bury him, but at least cover him with branches. Say a prayer or something.”

  I dash up the embankment to my left, not waiting on Squirrel, and he overtakes me within twenty yards. It’s a waste of valuable energy trying to match his pace, but I keep up as much as I can, pumping my arms and driving my legs up, up, and up. Higher up the hillside we go. Squirrel crests the ridge and stops, waiting for me. When I get to his side, I can tell that he’s troubled.

  “There,” he says. “Three pines. See them?”

  “Yeah. How far is that?”

  “Two miles, as a crow flies. Three or more if you have to find a place to cross the river.”

  “We’ll have to go straight through then, won’t we?”

  “Looks that way. Faster.”

  I put my hands behind my head, opening up my lungs like Brandon said. “How far south do we have to go? To get through, I mean.”

  “I can’t see a southern marker from here. The trees are in the way. Maybe if I got higher…” Squirrel darts over to a white pine with low-hanging limbs and begins to scurry up it. He’s fast and nimble, jumping, swinging, climbing from branch to branch, and now I understand how he got his name. He slips on a wet limb and nearly tumbles, but regardless of how much of a weakling he appears to be, his hands are strong, and he manages to hold on.

  Squirrel swings, plants a boot on a sturdier limb, and continues the ascent. Seconds later, he’s close to the top and shouts down to me, “I see it. Dead south.”

  “Is it far?”

  “Not much. Maybe a two-hour run. It’s not as far as—”

  He goes silent. I step back from the pine and angle my head upward, shielding my eyes from the rain, trying to get a better look at him.

  “Squirrel? Did you see—”

  “Run!”

  It takes too long to register in my mind, what he’s trying to tell me. I ask without reacting. “Run? Why?” I crane my neck further back, trying to see him, trying to see what’s gotten him into a panic. I’m looking up, when I should be looking behind me. I watch as Squirrel scrambles around to the back of the pine trunk like he’s hiding from something. Real squirrels do the same trick.

  A flash of orange catches my eye in the canopy above and then I know.

  Three arrows zip overhead. I quickly look away from Squirrel, searching for their origin, and spot three Republicon men twenty yards north, left arms out, holding their bows. Above, the thunk-thunk-thunk of arrows finding their mark cascades down as Squirrel shrieks and lets go.

  He falls. I scream, “No!” and watch him crashing off the branches, bouncing from one to the next until he comes to a stop on one of the larger bottom limbs, hanging limply over it like damp clothing after Sunday’s wash.

  There’s laughter behind me. A woman.

  I whirl around and see a group of Republicons, similar to our friends, with their arms crossed and smiles revealing rows of yellow and brown teeth. Ten yards away, they stand with their legs parted, forming a line, and out in front of them a woman with dark black hair and a big, hooked nose begins to clap.

  The three archers join their clan, and if my eyes could shoot fire, those men would burn like dry wood.

  “Best shots for a hundred miles,” the woman says, strolling with a confident swagger. “No use in running, little girl. They’re even better when the target’s moving.”

  I back away from her and think about screaming down the hill for Finn and James. I don’t. That’ll send arrows into my chest if I do. I can only hope that they heard Squirrel’s screaming and are on their way.

  “What’re you doing in my woods?”

  Maybe I can reason with her. Maybe if I explain what’s happening up north, she won’t kill me. “Are you Crockett?”

  She lays an arm across her stomach and bows deeply. “You know who I am, then you know better than to come into my woods. So I’ll ask you again, what’re you doing here?”

  “Trying to get back to Warrenville.”

  “You’re one of them.”

  My words fumble out of my mouth. “I am, but the DAV army is coming right through here. It’s war, ma’am. War is coming.”

  She raises an eyebrow and grunts. “War, you say?”

  “Do you know James? He’s—he’s one of you. Biggest man you’ve ever seen.”

  “I might, I might not. But you said war.” Crockett glares at me.

  “The DAV army is marching south, and they’ll be through by tomorrow, maybe the next day. They have some forward runners, too, and it won’t be long before they’re here. I’m sorry we’re on your land, but I can tell you this, it won’t be yours anymore, not when they come.”

  Challenging her ownership of the land wasn’t the best thing to say, and I learn this when she grabs my neck and pulls my face close to hers. The stench of her rotting breath and sweaty, rain-soaked clothes is enough to make me cringe. Even her hair smells awful, like she’s been washing it with bear droppings, which wouldn’t surprise me if it were true. The more you can hide your human scent in the forest, the easier it is to hunt—whether it’s human or animal.

  Crockett says, “Ain’t nobody taking nothing from me, little girl.”

  “Do you know how to count?”

  “What?”

  “Can you count? One, two, three, four…”

  “You saying I can’t count?” She shoves my face, and I stumble backward, but I keep my balance. I clench my fists, ready to swing if she comes closer, and then relax. There are men with arrows all around me. Grandfather always said that fights are better won with words than weapons. Then again, I don’t think he was ever on the front side of a war.

  James, Finn, and the rest aren’t coming.

  “Do you know how many men make up five hundred?”

  “It’s a l
ot, I know that much.”

  “How about ten thousand?”

  “Are you trying to call me stupid?”

  “The DAV soldiers will roll right over everything in their path. Five hundred men will be swarming through these woods by this time tomorrow, maybe sooner—right through the middle of your land—and that’s before the main army gets here. I don’t care how evil James says you are, you don’t have enough arrows to fight them. I can tell you this: you aren’t the worst thing in these woods anymore.”

  Behind me, in the tree, I hear Squirrel groan and cough. He’s alive. I risk taking my eyes off Crockett, long enough to take a peek at him. Two arrows protrude from his right leg and a third sticks out of his shoulder. They’re cracked and broken from banging against the limbs as he fell, but he’s not dead.

  Crockett’s men aren’t as good as she claimed, and for that, I’m thankful. But he’s wounded, and won’t be able to run on his own.

  She says, “You telling me the truth, little girl? Because so help me, if you’re lying, I’ll bury you so far that animals won’t be able to dig up your bones.”

  “Yes, they’re coming. They murdered my friend and almost everyone in my encampment. I saw them with my own eyes.”

  “What’re they coming down south for? Ain’t much around here they’d want.”

  “No, there’s plenty. They’re coming for us.”

  “Who?”

  “The people.”

  “What for?”

  “I don’t have time to explain—”

  Crockett grabs my arm and yanks me to her side. “I said what for?” she growls, demanding an answer.

  “Workers. Slaves. And unless you want to spend the rest of your lives in chains, you can either run, or you can come with us.”

  “We don’t congregate much with others—that’s not how I like to run things. Who’s in charge of your clan?”

  “I am.”

  “You?” Crockett cackles and tightens her grip around my arm. “Who listens to a little girl like you?”