Uprising: Book 2 in the After the Fall Series

by David Nees

  “Let him go, whoever it is,” Jason said. “We probably can’t catch him, and I don’t want to waste time trying. We have to find Catherine and Bird.”

  “Let’s hope they’re alive,” Clayton said.

  “How are we going to find them?” Tom asked. He had just come up from the slope below and given Jason the body count.

  “That’s the question,” Jason muttered.

  “You kill ‘em all?” Clayton asked Tom.

  “We got five prisoners. They surrendered.”

  “Not sure I’d take prisoners,” was Clayton’s response.

  “Bring them up here, on the double,” Jason said. “They may know where Catherine and Bird were positioned.”

  Tom called down the hill. More of the defenders were coming up, and after a couple of minutes, five men in militia uniforms were dragged and shoved up to the road. Tom oversaw tying their hands behind them and had them sit down on the side of the road.

  Jason went to them. He focused on the largest one, a stout bearded man with the stunned look of defeat in his eyes “You ran into some snipers. Where were they shooting from?”

  “What you gonna do with us?”

  “Hurt you if you don’t answer me. Where were the shooters? Where did you encounter them?”

  The man frowned. He looked as if he was struggling to gather his thoughts. “They shot at us at two places. They hit us two or three times…I don’t remember how many.”

  “Where? Where did they hit you?”

  “On the corners. Where the road turns away from the ravine. It’s exposed on the turns.”

  “Which ones?” Jason shouted.

  The man’s face pinched in concentration. “The second one coming down from the ridge, and the others after that.”

  “How far back up is that?”

  “I don’t know. We didn’t get fired on for the last two, I’m sure of that. What you gonna do with us?”

  Jason ignored his question.

  He grabbed Clayton and headed to the second militia pickup where it sat mashed against the one ahead. “Tom, get the men together and bring the captives down to the valley road. Then clear this road. From what this guy says, Catherine and Bird had to be to the left, across the ravine. We’ll drive back up to try to find their position. If we can locate them, we’ll have to get all the way down to the bottom to climb up the slope they’re on.”

  Chapter 49

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  C atherine and Bird listened to the gunfire below. There was a lot of rifle fire, and Catherine thought she could make out the sound of a machine gun. It seemed strangely harmless so far away. She did not hear any mortars.

  Finally everything went quiet.

  “You think they won?” Bird whispered.

  “Don’t know,” Catherine said. “I’ll go back with my rifle and spotting scope and see if I can tell what’s happened.”

  Bird nodded. He had little strength for words.

  Catherine ran through the woods. Their last sniping position was uphill. She heard the sound of a single truck roaring up the hill. It sounded like it was moving fast. The sound faded. She ignored her fatigue and jogged through the trees and brush, pushing uphill, her breath coming in harsh pants. She desperately hoped they had won the battle. She had to get help for Bird. She had tried again to tighten the bandage, but blood was still seeping out from under it.

  She came out not far from where they had last shot at the trucks. She could hear another engine approaching. She knelt quickly and studied the road through her spotting scope. There was a pickup truck racing around a lower switchback, heading uphill. It looked shot up. It wasn’t one of the valley pickups. She thought it was one of the ones they had been shooting at earlier. It disappeared into the trees.

  She waited. The truck reappeared at the last switchback where she and Bird had fired on the convoy. It stopped. Two men got out. They were looking in her direction. It was Jason and Clayton.

  She jumped up and waved her arms. At first the men didn’t see her. Frustrated, she unslung her rifle and fired a shot in the air. They saw her instantly. They waved, and Jason cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled something that she couldn’t make out. She swung her arms in a circle to indicate they should come to her. They stared. “Bird’s shot! He needs help!” she shouted. Frantically she pointed back to the woods and swung her hands, beckoning them to come. Finally Jason and Clayton jumped back into the truck and it turned around and sped off downhill.

  Catherine ran back down through the trees to Bird.

  He was lying where she had left him. Her shirt was fully soaked with blood.

  “Bird, they won!” she exclaimed.

  He looked at her with dim eyes.

  “Come on, Bird. We got to get down off the ridge. They’re coming to help. You’re going to be okay.”

  “You go,” Bird said his voice now weak and hoarse.

  “No. I won’t leave you. We’ll get you out of here. You’re going to be okay.”

  “I don’t think so.” He looked down at the bandage. “Lots of blood. Too much.”

  “No! You got to get up. Help is coming. You have to hang on.”

  Catherine gently slipped her hands under Bird’s armpits and started to lift. “You help me, Bird Early. Don’t you quit. You aren’t a quitter!”

  Bird groaned, but he struggled to gather his legs under him. Soon Catherine had him on his feet. She pulled his right arm over her shoulder and they began to stumble down the hillside. Catherine kept searching for the easiest terrain. Bird was not going to be able to climb down any rocks.

  As they worked their way down she tried to keep Bird talking, keep him focused.

  “I’m sorry I got hit. I messed up,” Bird said.

  “No you didn’t. It could just as easily have been me.”

  “Glad it wasn’t you. I like you. Wish I had a girl like you.”

  A wave of anguish rushed through her. “You’ll find one. She’ll help you get better and you’ll have a long life together. You just hang on. We’re going to get you some help.”

  After a while they heard a shot below them. Catherine shifted her hold on Bird enough that she could get out her 9mm. She fired two shots in the air.

  “They’re coming,” she told Bird. They began to struggle downward again. After ten more minutes they heard another shot, closer this time. Catherine immediately fired two more rounds.

  Then she felt Bird sagging. She began shouting, “Here we are! Hurry! Bird’s been hit. He needs help.”

  Bird’s legs gave out and he sank to the ground with a groan. Catherine guided him down, and he lay back on the sloping ground. She knelt down next to him and took his face in her hands.

  “You hang on, Bird. Don’t you give up.” She had tears in her eyes as she spoke.

  Bird looked at her with sad eyes. “I’m tryin’. It hurts some.” His eyes began to lose focus.

  Catherine held his head firmly in her hands. She put her face close to his and began to exhort him again. “Don’t quit. Don’t you leave me,” she shouted into his face. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She turned from Bird to shout out, “Over here! Hurry! Bird needs help!”

  It seemed to take far too long until there were shouts nearby, and then Jason, Clayton and two of the clansmen came into view below. They ran up to her.

  “Are you okay?” Jason asked.

  “It’s Bird. He got hit by some shrapnel. He’s bleeding badly. Please don’t let him die.”

  Clayton shouldered in past her and bent over Bird. She almost toppled backward.

  “Bird, you hear me?” Clayton shouted.

  Between Jason and Clayton she could see Bird nodding.

  “We got to put pressure on the wound,” Jason said to Clayton. “He’s lost a lot of blood.” Catherine felt a stab of guilt. The two of them stripped to the waist and they doubled their shirts across the wound, pulling them tight around Bird’s lower torso. Finally it looked as if the flow had been stop
ped, or nearly so.

  After a moment’s consultation, the four men knelt down beside Bird. Clayton was at his head, Jason at his feet, and the two bearded clansmen knelt beside him, one on each side. The two men laced their arms under his torso and clasped hands. Clayton supported Bird’s head and Jason took his feet. They gently lifted him up. Bird’s face was pale, but he made no sound. The four of them began to carry Bird down the ridge. Catherine carried Bird’s rifle as well as her own and went ahead of them, pushing branches out of their way.

  She asked once, “Did you get Leo?”

  “No,” Jason said.

  “No?”

  “Tom checked the bodies. Didn’t see him. Someone took off in one of the trucks. Maybe Leo.”

  The going was slow and painful. Bird grunted whenever the men stumbled on the uneven ground. Finally they came down onto the flat ground. The paved road was only a short distance away. Ahead they saw a cluster of pickup trucks, two of them looking well shot up. The rest of the fighters were waiting for them.

  The four men gently laid Bird down on the grass just short of the asphalt. He was barely conscious. Catherine leaned the rifles up against one of the pickups and went back to where Bird lay. Clayton carefully tugged the makeshift bandages to one side. The shrapnel had torn a deep, jagged gash in his side. It was no longer bleeding much, but, looking at it now, Catherine realized it was much deeper than she had thought when she had been hurrying to bind it up on the slope.

  “You think the shrapnel’s still inside?” Clayton asked.

  “Only way to tell is to probe the wound,” Jason said in a low voice.

  “You do that?”

  When Jason answered, he sounded uncertain. “He’s pretty weak,” he said. “But, if there’s metal in him, we need to get it out. It could keep cutting him inside.” He looked up at someone in the small crowd and said, “Get me some water. I need to clean my hands as best I can.”

  The crowd shifted. Jason gently loosened the layers of cloth and pulled them completely open around the wound. Catherine looked at Jason’s large hands, dirty from the fighting and scrambling he’d done. She took a deep breath. “Let me do this. My hands are smaller and cleaner.”

  Jason looked at her. She could feel the dried tears on her face, but she wasn’t crying now. She felt a stubborn will gather within her.

  “Can you do this?” Jason asked her. “You’ve never done anything like this before.”

  Catherine nodded.

  Jason shook his head. “Go rinse your hands as best you can,” he said quietly. “Then just reach in. You can move things around gently. If you find metal, you have to be careful to pull it out without cutting him more.”

  Catherine looked grim. She struggled out of her coat and laid it behind her, heedless of the onlookers. Someone above her handed a deerskin water bag, and she splashed water over her hands and then rubbed them together, flapping them dry in the air. She turned to Bird who was looking at her. “I’m going to check for metal,” she told him. “If there’s any inside you, we need to get it out.”

  Bird gave a weak nod. “It don’t hurt now. That’s odd.”

  Catherine took a breath and held it. She moved closer to Bird, leaned over him, and put her right hand to the red tear in his side. She slowly worked her fingertips into the wound. Then her fingers. He was so warm. Her hand was partially inside when she felt something hard and twisted. She looked up at Bird. “I found some.”

  “Be careful,” Jason said close behind her. “Don’t yank and don’t force it.”

  Catherine grimaced. She gradually slid her fingers around the metal. “I got a grip on it.”

  “Go slow,” Jason said.

  She nodded. Her mind was focused on what her hand felt. Everything seemed magnified to her hand’s touch. She only belatedly realized that she was staring into Bird’s eyes. Now she saw him as if for the first time. He was staring back at her. “It don’t hurt,” he said. “You doin’ a good job.”

  He smiled.

  Slowly, slowly, Catherine began to work the metal shard out of Bird. When she felt resistance, she paused, moved her hand slightly, and then started again. And then the shard was out, in her hand, and a new spurt of blood shot up her arm.

  “Nooo!” Catherine shouted. She threw the piece of shrapnel to the ground.

  Jason pulled her back from Bird. She put her hands to her face to wipe the sweat away but only smeared herself with warm blood. She rubbed her bloody right arm across her body, trying to clean it, but only succeeded in smearing her bare midriff. Jason had gotten shirts from the people around them, and he was working over Billy, struggling to bind his wound again. Catherine shuffled around the men and knelt down close to Bird’s face. She took his head in her hands, putting her face close to his.

  “You hang on, Bird. We got the metal out. You’re going to be all right.”

  Bird looked at her. “Thanks,” he said in a barely audible voice. “Wish you were my girl. You somethin’.”

  “You’re something. Some girl’s going to get a prize in you, Bird Early.”

  Bird turned his head, his eyes searching. They found Clayton. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to get hit like this. Mortars are somethin’ else. Bad.”

  “You save your strength,” Clayton said. His voice was gentle. “Just stay with us. We’ll stop the bleeding and get you to…” He stopped abruptly.

  “Ain’t gonna make it. I’m done.” Bird’s voice faltered. “Too much blood…too much gone.”

  “No,” Catherine told him. Her voice threatened to break down. “Stay with us, don’t give up. Don’t let them win.” She was sobbing now. He turned his face back to her, and she bent over him.

  “Can’t…goin’…can’t focus.”

  He looked back to Clayton who was leaning over them. “Tell momma I’m sorry,” he said, and he exhaled and his eyes went blank.

  Catherine buried her face in his chest and cried. Gentle hands pulled her back. Clayton leaned over and slowly wiped Bird’s forehead and closed his eyes. No one moved or made a sound, except for someone toward the back of the group who could not hide his weeping.

  Chapter 50

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  F inally Catherine got up. She was not crying now. Her face grew dark and hard. On the other side of the road, the five captured men sat on the ground with their hands tied behind their backs.

  “You!” she shouted. She strode across the road. “Why’d you come here? What did we ever do to you?” She pulled her 9mm out of its holster as she approached the men. “Which one of you fired the mortar? Which one of you killed Bird?” She pointed her pistol at them. “Was it you?” she yelled at the nearest man. She jammed the 9mm against his temple, and he flinched, shaking his head wildly. She put her pistol against the next man’s head. He tried to shrink away from the barrel. “Was it you? I should shoot you all!”

  “Catherine,” Jason said coming up to her, “These men have surrendered.

  Catherine kept glaring at the prisoners. “These men killed Bird. They deserve to die.” Her voice was dark with a deadly intent.

  “No they don’t. This is not fighting, defending yourself. It’s execution…murder.”

  She saw that all the defenders were looking at her. She wavered, and then emptied her pistol barely over the heads of the prisoners. They threw themselves sideways to get away from the gun. When the slide slapped back and stayed open, the weapon empty, she holstered it and turned and went to the truck where she had put the rifles. She grabbed the M110, grabbed her jacket, and stomped off down the road toward the farms. “Catherine,” Jason called. She heard Clayton say, “Let her go. She got to grieve. She got to get over her angry.”

  And then she was alone with the sound of her footsteps.

  Leo drove fast along the winding highway back to Hillsboro, going as quickly around the dead vehicles as he dared. He had no illusions about the final outcome in the valley. His remaining men had either surrendered or bee
n killed. The ones who had surrendered would spill their guts about whatever they knew. Thankfully they didn’t know much.

  Leo also knew that this wasn’t the end. The valley wouldn’t let this attack go unanswered. There would be a response, and it might come soon.

  And the farmers were better equipped now. Behind him the .50 caliber M2 rode in the back of the truck, but the bed was otherwise empty. The farmers had his mortars, not to mention three new machine guns.

  Leo ended jobs well. This one had not ended well, but—Leo’s face broke into a grim smile—this job was not yet ended. He had to get back to Joe, so they could prepare for what might be coming next.

  As he drove, he resolved to find Charlie and kill him personally. The valley had known they were coming. Charlie must have been the one who tipped them off.

  But where did they get the extra men? He thought, over and over. Those men had tipped the fight against him.

  They weren’t from town. Hillsboro was full of sheep.

  It suddenly came to him that it must have been that hillbilly group that had come along with the farmers to trade. But they didn’t live anywhere near the valley. Had Jason Richards recruited them? How?

  He remembered seeing the hillbillies at the trade meet. Even unarmed, they’d had a rough and untamed look about them. But he hadn’t thought about having to face them when he attacked the farmers. They were a formidable fighting force, and he had overlooked them.

  Trouble.

  Still, how much trouble? His militia back in town outnumbered them, even if they joined in an attack on Hillsboro. He still had more weapons than they did, even with what he had lost in the valley. And he now knew about the extra fighters. He’d be ready this time.

  Catherine stomped down the road, her fury undiminished. She had put on her jacket, now covered with dirt and blood. It was unbuttoned, and her bloody midriff showed through the opening. Her hair was wild and caked with blood, Bird’s blood. Her face, stained with tears, blood and dirt, was now set in a fierce frown as she looked down at the pavement.