The dry stacked, stone walls tinged with moss bordered the pastures below. Carlos sat on one of these walls watching the cattle and sheep graze. The new calves and lambs were suckling at their mother's tit with gusto, tails waggling. The verdant grass was coming through lushly, promising a bountiful spring. The setting was idyllic and after enduring a long captivity, the young man should have felt less troubled than he was today.
Yes, his nerves were less on edge, and the rest had done him good. His hosts were fine and generous people. It had been good to gain respite from that awful grind of the continuous, ready wakefulness he had practiced for the past eight years.
So why was he so restless and discontented? There should be no reason for his mood. It was beautiful here he observed as the apple blossoms fell on him like pseudo snowfall, light in the darkness of his hair. He pulled his shining black mane back from his eyes and tied its length into a short ponytail with a strip of leather. There must be something better beyond he thought, somewhere where he could just belong.
His early memories of his city upbringing were still vivid, that was the environment where he had thrived. In the fast-paced, fast-thinking landscape of his childhood, he rued the demise of its conveniences. Strong memories came to him of the Rundle Street East end, the rows of brightly glittering shop windows, the hotels on every corner, and the gelato bar with its hundreds of flavors to sate his childhood appetite. He could almost smell the delicious aromas of food wafting from the myriad of restaurants and food carts, the reflections of the car lights creating bright runnels of the pavement. Captured forever in his mind’s eye, Hindley Street in the rain. It was gone, all obliterated in an instant by the allies of all things.
He could not remain here, in the middle of nowhere, with his hunger for city life. He was no farmer destined for this simplicity. To be ruled by what Mother Nature wished to throw at him. He was feeling so much better, he had eaten well these last few days and restored his strength. However, the newly freed slave was still very unsure of what he should do. So he had languished, absorbing the comforts and idly waiting; waiting for a cue that may not come.
Even before the war, the state was over eighty percent desert. The only capital city had been leveled and irradiated so no one could return. Should he head south, back toward the coast, and see if society had attempted to rebuild? It had been the best part of eight years after all. The idea had merit, he was unsure what he may find there, and even more unsure of the journey. It would no doubt be long and perilous.
Alternatively, should he seek revenge on the one he hated more than anything? The one who robbed him of his dignity and life. He had toyed with that scenario in recent days now that he felt stronger. His reviled enemy Wezley Bennett commanded very few men. He would be a far easier target than he had been before. Though Carlos wondered what he would feel if indeed he did run face to face with his nemesis again, a man of his recurring nightmares, a man who had rent his soul.
As his fingers traced the faint line of a scar on his cheek given to him by that tyrant, he realized could in effect never be the same after all he had endured. It had forged him, bent him, perhaps broken him in ways also. He no longer knew what he really wanted, this feeling ate at him, and it would not relent.
Footsteps behind him. Whoever it was, they were making no effort to approach quietly. He half turned to see Renard standing just beyond the wall, dressed in dark brown suede and leather. He was cleanly shaven except for a neat trademark goatee, and his shoulder-length hair neatly trimmed and tied back in a pony tail.
“Beautiful afternoon.” Renard commented casually. Observing the beautiful rural visa before him.
Carlos just nodded in assent of the cheery remark, he rarely felt the need to engage in anything but the most minimal of conversations. Perhaps a legacy of his past time as a captive, the less you spoke the better.
“I was wondering?…”
Here it comes, thought Carlos with a twinge of regret.
“If you would accompany us to rescue the girls?”
Renard did not see the young man grimace at the mention of the mission.
“You are one hell of a fighter, we would be happy to have you along.”
Carlos did not reply, his mind was in a terrible conundrum over the request. He must answer carefully, yet he could not frame the words.
“Anyway, if you decide to accompany us we leave tomorrow at first light.”
With that Renard walked away, leaving the young man alone with his thoughts.
*****
After the conversation the troubled man had tossed and turned all night, sleep would not come as he wrestled with his demons to make a decision. As the first tendrils of light evoked shadows on the floorboards, and the inhabitants stirred in the house Carlos made his choice. He rose from his bed, dressed, collected his few belongings, and made for the stables.
A tight knot of approximately twenty men assembled all readying their mounts for the journey. On well rested horseback the journey would not be so far. Two, three, days tops. Carlos did not know the majority of the volunteers. Though he had sighted most of the participants during his short respite here. The stables smelled deeply of horses and sweet fresh cut hay, agreeable and comforting to the young man as he made his way through the press of warm horseflesh.
Darius was smiling broadly as he cinched his saddle, the big smith always seemed cheerful. Renard was there in the center of the crush of men and beasts, making sure every man was adequately equipped for the excursion ahead. He turned and smiled as he saw Carlos approach.
“Glad you decided to ride with us.” Renard said as he handed Carlos the reigns of a bay gelding who had a white blaze that ran down and under his nose like dripped paint.
Carlos just nodded, noting the fine rife that was stowed in a holster attached to his mounts saddle. He had never used a rifle in his life, he was only familiar with handguns, or a blade. That fact did not matter, twenty well-organized men against the few who remained in that squalid little encampment, it would most certainly be a rout. He was imagining hacking off Bennett's ugly head like the snake he was. He stowed his few possessions in the saddlebag and mounted his horse, waiting for the others to leave.
*****
The day had begun like many preceding it. Sven had no reason to expect any more than the ordinary as he hunted topside for another meal. They were still in possession of a few goats, but the remaining does and the one buck that lived were too valuable to slaughter. The little herd provided a steady supply of milk, and hopefully soon some new kids would be born that may provide an easier meal in lean times.
Currently, easy meat was hard to come by, and Sven had to spend a lot more time than he liked hunting in the dunes above the encampment. Sometimes he bagged a stray bird or a rabbit, if he got lucky a kangaroo or an emu, and some days there was nothing about to catch at all. They had begun to rely heavily on the remaining corn stores, if they were not careful there would not be enough seed to sow the new crop.
Sven had no idea why he chose to look up at that exact moment, but far away on the horizon, he detected movement. He thought he had sighted a bird initially, keen senses ever alert for prey. His constant gnawing hunger had seen to that. Sven held his hand up to shield his eyes to better see distance, however, he realized with a start what he was seeing were many riders approaching the valley at a fast canter. They were still very distant, mere specks on the horizon, but he knew at the pace they were moving he had little time. Those riders would be here well before dusk.
He bolted for the valley, the hunt completely forgotten. Raissa looked up as the big man came barreling into the midst of the women who were quietly working on various domestic tasks.
“Get anything important quickly, we must hide!”
The women looked up, unmoving at first. Confused silence reigned. All eyes were on the sweating Sven, his chest heaving with the exertion of his pace.
“NOW! MOVE!” He shouted pulling the women from their inaction.
Raissa’s heart heaved in her breast as she hastily took up young Eirik, who had been sleeping soundly, close by. The boy began to fuss and cry at the sudden change in his circumstances.
“Quiet him!” The warrior countered sharply.
Sven would not be this panicked on a whim, Raissa realized, there was a threat, a real threat. The young woman's mind felt muddled as she tried to decide if there was anything of value she must rescue. Too late, as Sven’s large hand alighted on the strap of her dress and he was herding her before him. The other women were moving too now. Maya ran like a deer in the lead, her pale hair flowing behind her. The panicked demeanor of the great man had spooked them all.
Lissa was unsure what to think, but she dutifully helped her friends toward the designated hiding place that Sven had indicated. A dark cave obscured by the dump and tightly woven thorn bushes.
She watched the big man break from the small group of fleeing women and head into the shipping container, and reappear carrying an abundance of weaponry and ammunition.
He would make a last stand then, she registered. Her mind was afire with all the possibilities as she helped the ailing Sarah and Kate into the protective darkness that loomed before her. If they were discovered they would most certainly be trapped in here she thought, and she tried hard to push down her rising panic. There would be no easy exit from this place. Lissa felt sick with the fear. It was like a terrible dream, the kind you have to wake from and order it to stop. But this was no dream, just an awful reality.
The women crouched down toward the rear of the cave, with no other sound but ragged breathing and a fussing child in the lightless space. The air was slightly humid and smelled of damp earth. The ceiling was low and they could not stand. Darkness as black as pitch to their backs, and the cool air fanned up from the subterranean depths and the dark unknown beyond.
Eirik had calmed some, Raissa shushing and rocking her son so that he may feel reassured. The infant though could sense the fear and uncertainty about him and refused to be placated.
Sven made the entrance of the overhang forcing his bulk between the thorny sentinels, they scraped and scratched leaving in their wake stripes of sanguine on his flesh. He set his cache of weapons down with a loud metallic thunk on the stone, and began loading them with ammunition.
Lissa decided that if these invaders were going to try and kill them, she would not die herself without a fight. Alternatively, if they were the rescue party she had hoped for, then it would behoove her to be up the front. So she could at the very worst arrange some kind of surrender on Sven's behalf. She was sure that he would be shot otherwise. She was not going to be responsible for Eirik becoming an orphan. It was critical she got this right.
Lissa made her way forward to kneel beside Sven, to see if she could be of some assistance. Afraid he may yet command her to return to the rest of the frightened women. Sven looked at her quizzically as she approached him at the front of the cave. She was a farmer's daughter, and she knew enough about firearms to be useful.
All of their lives now hung in the balance. Sven deciding wordlessly that the woman's help was valid handed her a double-barreled shotgun. Calculating in his mind that the woman would probably lose her cool and her aim would be terrible. He tossed her some twelve gauge cartridges and hoped she could reload swiftly. He loaded the bolt action 303’s and set them before him, with more cartridges at the ready. Bennett had taken the choicest weapons with him, Sven wishing he possessed some grenades. These old and battered rifles would have to suffice unfortunately.
Lissa did not hesitate, she scooped up the cartridges pressing them in her hand to be sure they were not perished, and loaded the shotgun. Sven side-eyed her, expecting her to fumble. He was reassured to see she did not do so. That accomplished Sven turned to his charges.
“I know we have no light but can you Maya see if the cave behind is is safe, be careful.”
Maya squirmed at the order, she did not much like the suggestion she should crawl back into the blackness with the spiders and other nameless bugs, but she realized this was important, and to survive she must do her part. Unfortunately, the entrance behind them tapered off swiftly to become impassable. Maya was happy she did not have to crawl too far before she realized this; but doubly afraid with the knowledge that they would be well and truly cornered if they were discovered.
Maya reported this to Sven in a whisper, and he nodded, his expression grim. His gray eyes fixated before him on the compound they called home. He knew that whoever came here would easily realize that the occupants could not be too far away. The cooking fire was still burning, the stray plume of wood smoke drifted lazily on an almost non existent breeze.
It was not in the warrior's nature to hide like a coward, and it sat badly with him. Yet he realized the men approaching numbered many, and he had been given no time to possibly even the odds by placing traps for the unsuspecting invaders. He hoped that they merely passed on by, and come nightfall they would be safe in the knowledge the intruders did not have this site as their destination. It was a well-hidden encampment after all.
The experienced soldier was not going to throw his life away needlessly, in doing so he would doom his family to possible slavery or worse. Today was not the time to be a hero he ruminated, yet he desired to be.
They crouched on cramping knees for what seemed like an unendurable time. Nothing to be heard but the slight breeze rustling the bushes, the busy chatter of house sparrows, and the far-off caw of a sorrowful crow. Then suddenly the sound of a stray pebble falling from great height above.
Lissa took a sharp intake of breath and felt the pace of her heart lurch, the blood pounding in her temples. The knuckles on her hands had turned white as she gripped the stock of the shotgun too tightly. The redhead took a deep breath to try and tame her rising panic. She suddenly felt nausea grip her insides. She shot a quick glance across at Sven, he was unmoving as a statue. Rifle poised in his huge hands, storm colored eyes trained down the barrel. Lissa wished she had the same composure and fleetingly wondered if he was afraid just like she was?
It was not long before they witnessed a tight group of men cautiously inspecting the encampment. The sun was beginning its descent to the west, and the shadows in the valley were long and dark. Visibility was failing fast, the evening always came early to this well hidden gouge in the earth.
Sven scanned the large group, they were all well-armed. He felt now it had been the correct decision to hide. He could not discern any familiar faces, as they split up into groups to more thoroughly search the site.
“Fuck!” Sven muttered under his breath as the first recognition dawned. He spied Carlos between the shipping containers that housed the ammunition and the stores. He sighted his rifle, and his finger twitched almost imperceptibly on the trigger. He was however never going to take the shot. He still had the hope that they would remain undetected, and eventually the men would leave empty handed.
He certainly was not ready for Lissa as she dropped the shotgun and ran, mindless of the thorny entrance from the cave, and the sharp stones on her bare feet.
“Renard!” she cried, her voice shrill, echoing off the sides of the red sandstone cliffs.
Barefoot she sprinted toward the tall man in the brown suede as fast as her legs and exhaustion would allow. The two embraced wordlessly, Lissa’s warm brown eyes looking into Renard’s own. For a moment Lissa forgot herself taking in the heady scent of him and feeling the strength and warmth of his touch, she had longed for this more than she could have imagined. She wanted that moment of their togetherness to last forever.
Then with a start, she realized she must speak swiftly. Sven’s rifle was trained on them with precision, and she was very unsure what the soldier would do now she had revealed his position.
“Sven is in there, he’s with the rest of the women, he’s armed. There are no other men here, they all left some days ago, and I don’t think they are coming back.” The words tumbled out.
Renard did not hesitate, positioning Lissa and himself behind the shipping container, and ordering the men to take cover.
Lissa found strength in Renard’s presence beside her. “Sara and Kate are okay, and there is only Lucy, Raissa, Maya, and the baby. But I don’t know if Sven will willingly surrender.”
Raissa felt the hot wet of tears beginning to stream down her face. Lissa had betrayed them all. She had felt some odd emotions from this woman in the last few days, however, Raissa could not pinpoint what they were. This must have been what she had sensed, Lissa knew she would be rescued. Raissa held her son and watched the solid silhouette of her man crouched with the weapon in his hands, ready, stoic. Would he fight or surrender? Would they be spared, taken prisoner, or worse? She was very afraid this would not end well.
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Lissa felt Renard move away from her side.”No don’t, I’m scared he will shoot.”
“It will be alright.” Renard reassured though he was unsure of the truth of his own words, he expected Sven would fight like the cornered lion he was. He wanted desperately to diffuse the standoff, but he was unsure what it would take.
“Put your weapons down Sven you have my word you will not be harmed.” Renard’s voice carried clearly to all within the confines of the cave. The valley was growing dark now, fleetingly Sven contemplated using the onset of darkness to his advantage. Then in the same thought dismissed the idea. He was unsure what to do, but he knew they were trapped, and had few options.
If he chose to fight it would be to the death, he was not scared for himself. Violent men usually met their end by violence, it was an irrefutable fact. He did not want his son to perish, his love was great for the little scrap of a being he had sired. The scarred soldier sighed, it was a heavy sound. He didn’t fully trust Renard, after all the feelings generated were mutual. Renard had been a captive here at his hands. Though he had to confess in all fairness that Renard had always seemed a man of honor, no matter the circumstance. However, he had lied about his origins, and that fueled Sven's distrust.
Renard again repeated his request for surrender. His voice was loud in the evening quietude.
Sven then turned to his charges, none could see his expression with his face in shadow, they only had the reassurance of his whispered words. “They are here for you two.”
Raissa realized then that Frances’ handmaidens had been of such little importance to her husband that he did not even know their given names.
“Maya.” Sven whispered.
The slight girl jumped at the mention. She looked up, her face a mask of fear in the gloom.
“Take the two girls to them, Lucy if you wish to leave do so.” He was hoping if they had what they had come for they would depart and leave him be. He had no desire to go with them.
There was a rustle of garments from the rear of the cave, Sven could see Maya’s silver hair even in this darkness. The slight girl crawled forward with Sarah and Kate in tow.
“Go!” Was all he said.
Maya didn’t wish to, yet she was afraid to disobey. Sven knew war, he understood negotiation far better than she could. Cautiously the three women exited the overhang. Sven could hear the patter of their feet on the sand as they crossed the clearing. His eyes never left the encampment, nor the gun sight.
Lucy had declined to leave, her world was here. Sven had not ordered her to, he had merely indicated she could do so if she wished. She had forgotten the niceties of polite society, she had lost her love. Here was where she belonged.
Raissa was clutching Eirik to her breast and wiping away her tears. The trio could hear the commotion and frenzied chatter of the women as they entered the circle of shipping containers and began speaking with their rescuers.
Sven could see the slender form of Maya off to one side. She was glancing back at the cave like a wild animal caught in the spotlight's glare, unsure if she should flee or stand her ground.
Lissa hugged the gaunt forms of her two friends, and the tears flowed. She had hoped for this moment but never dared to believe it would come true. Renard had come for them, just as he had promised. They would go home to their families, and they would in time heal and live a life of meaning. The tragic specter of Frances came to Lissa at that moment, not all of us got to return she thought sadly. The man she found herself falling for had lost a sister too. Her mistress had paid the ultimate price, and they did not even know where her remains lay. Such a lack of closure.
Voices were raised behind her pulling Lissa from her dismal thoughts.
“I say he dies.” Carlos snarled at Renard bitterly. His intense black eyes, grim expression, and onyx hair made him look like the devil in the half light. “We came here to kill them, and if you don’t I will.”
Renard shook his head. “There will be no killing.” His voice low and certain. The other men crowded around, Dale close by his best friend's shoulder, ready for trouble.
“You were not held captive here for years, Renard.” Carlos sneered, threat dripping from every word. “You did not suffer like I have.”
“I understand that Carlos, I do. But no one dies here today, we have what we came for...”
“You do!” Carlos accused vehemently. “I want his fuckin hide, and I will have it.” The angry young man made a move toward the cave. Renard attempted to stay him with his hand but Carlos shook him off angrily.
Lissa caught her breath, would Renard simply allow this to happen? There was a child in there and two innocent women. She understood Carlos’ desire for revenge, but there had to be a more civilized and just way to settle this.
Surprisingly Renard stepped back. Requital of this kind was not for Renard to deny, he had firsthand with abhorrence witnessed the cruelty Carlos had suffered.
“We have what we have come for, let’s get the women home.” Giving the vengeful man leeway to disappear into the darkness to enact his retribution.
Renard whispered a command in Dale’s ear. Lissa did not catch his hushed orders. She looked at the man she admired, but when his eyes met hers he gave nothing away. Carefully they retreated and readied to depart. All ears straining for signs of violence.
Sven had heard enough of the altercation to know someone was coming for him, and he was sure who.
“You should go Lucy.” Raissa encouraged trying her best to sound positive.“ Go with Maya. There is nothing left for you here, they can give you a better life. Their quarrel is not with you.”
Lucy shook her head stony-faced. Raissa wished whimsically she could be free to go too. She knew though Sven would never sanction it. She was shackled to this dry little valley as long as she remained married and her man saw fit to remain here. She found herself wishing this would not be so. This was an opportunity to give her son a better life, a place in the sun, instead of all the old memories of death and hate that lingered here.
Sven could hear the group of invaders preparing to depart, faint incomplete conversations drifted to his already straining ears as they began to leave the valley. He was confident he could deal with just one assailant, after all, he had years of combat experience, unlike Carlos, he was not blinded by vengeance. He would kill the man and be done with the whole sordid business, he had never liked the callow youth anyway.
Carlos knew this lesser revenge would be a difficult objective. If the men had stayed the task could have been accomplished painlessly within minutes. He was undaunted though, but he lamented he had nothing of an incendiary nature he could throw into the cave to flush him out. The fuel and oil were all spent long ago. To that end Carlos skirted wide of the cave entrance, the darkness was thick about him as the sun had fully set. He was but a shadow, moving within the shadows. He clutched his rifle at the ready, though he doubted that he could chance to sight his enemy in this darkness. He afforded a quick glance up, the milky way now a silvered smear through the center of the indigo sky. He could hear the others on the clifftops getting ready to ride away. He hoped they had seen fit to at least leave him his horse, even if they had not wished to back him up.
Sven lay flat on the hard stone with the idea of making himself the smallest possible target, he ordered the remaining two women to hide as far back in the cave as they could possibly crawl. He could hear nothing of his enemy. Carlos may be young and reckless, but his abilities were nothing to be toyed with, as he recalled this man’s stealth and speed. All he could do now was wait and hope the impetuous young man would make a mistake.
Carlos sat for long moments to the side of the dark opening. He could discern no movement within and there was only silence. What to do? He didn’t have that many available choices if he wanted to be honest. He could merely wait and hope to shoot Sven, or do something reckless and have it be done with.
The vengeful man was nervous, his longed for retribution was not supposed to play out like this. He had the realistic option to leave if he frankly wished, he was not duty-bound to shoot Sven. Nevertheless, he could not bring himself to depart. He had hated Sven, the big man had contributed greatly to his misery over the years. Even more than that something hard and cruel in him craved the closure; perhaps Sven would be second prize compared to the man he really sought, but today he would do. With that thought, Carlos eased himself behind a large bolder and trained the muzzle of his rifle on the cave. It was time to draw Sven out.
The retort of rifle fire shattered the night, sending the few roosting birds panicked from cover. Lissa looked back toward the valley, delighting in the warm embrace of the man who had rescued her and the rhythmic rocking of the horse's gait. At the sound, the party halted and turned their mounts about, back toward the direction of the gunfire.
“Let’s wait.” Renard instructed. The men nodded or voiced their assent, and the horses stood restless eager to be gone hooves pawing the sand. The creak of leather livery was loud in the ensuing silence. More gunshots, and with each one Lissa jumped. She could feel Renard clutch her firmly and she melted into his warm embrace seeking the comfort to be had there.
*****
The first spray of bullets hit the walls of the cave and ricocheted on the hard stone striking sparks in the darkness. Raissa screamed, and Sven grunted as he felt one of the errant missiles graze his thigh. He had feared just this eventuality, this was a bad place to be caught. He felt the wet of blood but there was little pain. Adrenaline had seen to that.
Madly he scanned towards the right side of the cave opening, however, he knew that the cliff angled in just beyond, and his adversary would be tucked into this protective position. Well out of eyesight. Eyes straining he waited until Carlos would have to show himself to take a second volley. He looked at the old rifle in his hands and cursed his country's stringent gun laws. The bolt action single shot was no match for the semi-automatic, and he wondered how Carlos had even come by one.
Sven got off a couple of rounds to little effect but had to roll to the far side of the cave as another spay of bullets peppered the stone around him. He felt another projectile strike him hard in the left shoulder, he grunted at the hurt. Registering with alarm difficulty in moving his arm. He pushed his doubt and fear aside as he was always trained to do and continued.
Carlos was not sure if any of his shots had struck home, it was quite possible, that he could use all his available ammunition and never strike the man, and that thought worried him. He had no idea how armed his adversary was, but he knew he didn’t want to get into any sort of physicality with the highly trained soldier.
Sven realized he was bleeding heavily from the shoulder wound, in the darkness it was difficult to ascertain the damage, but experience told him it was an extensive injury. He almost panicked for a moment as his vision went dark and then returned to him, he was losing a lot of blood. He had to finish this swiftly or he would not be capable of the task.
Sven did not want to risk Carlos blindly shooting into the cave again. So far no one else had been harmed. He would not further endanger the lives of his woman or his son. He intended to draw fire elsewhere. He gathered up his rifle and made his move, running straight from the cave and taking a hard right turn in the hope he could surprise rush his attacker, and nullify the threat before he succumbed to loss of blood.
Carlos did not anticipate Sven's bold and desperate attack. He recoiled in fright, fumbling with the rifle as the big beast of a man landed almost on top of him. The smaller man strove to evade the crushing weight of his much larger but slower adversary, rolling lithely sideways and out of his grasp. All Sven got for his exertion was handfuls of red sand.
Carlos rose and attempted to put some distance between him and his assailant. Backing quickly away. He raised his rifle and tried to take aim in the darkness, using sound rather then vision to determine his mark. He pulled the trigger hoping for the bullets to hit, something, anything to halt his nemesis. Yet on the big man came. Then the unexpected, he pulled the trigger again but instead of the retort of gunfire, there was nothing, just a vague click as the bullet jammed in the breach.
There was no more time, Carlos tried to evade but large calloused hands were on him going for his throat. He attempted to use the rifle in the manner of a staff, anything to push the big man off him. It was too little, too late, as Sven had him pinioned beneath his superior weight.
The pressure at his throat increased, and he ceased trying to use the rifle in any capacity. A ridiculous thought came to him at that moment as he was choking for breath, but he could see why soldiers had fixed bayonets installed onto their rifles. If he had he would not be enduring this...
Instead he he was on his back squirming and fighting for every bit of oxygen his starving body craved, and he was tiring swiftly. The fog of lassitude was rising about him, his senses which had moments before been on high alert were dimming by the second. This is it, Carlos thought, I have failed. He tried for one last attempt at freedom but his arms were surely pinioned.
Raissa was terrified but she knew she had to do something. If it was in anyone's power to prevent this senseless bloodshed it would be hers. She turned to Lucy and pressed baby Eirik hastily into her arms. Raissa had never been by anyone's definition brave, though in her short life, she had by accident or choice diffused many arguments among these wild men. She had to hope she could stop this one.
Without thinking she took a deep breath and ran to the front of the cave. She could see no one, even after being in the blackness, yet outside the cave, all was starkly visible.
For one unsteady moment she almost slipped in Svens’ blood pooled on the stone at the cave entrance. She felt the tendrils of morbid fear as she saw the bloody trail illuminated dimly against the lighter hue of the red sand before her. Sven had been hit she registered and it looked serious.
She could hear her man cursing from somewhere in the dark just beyond as she rolled into the sand unbalanced by her slip. She scrambled to her feet, it was hard to discern what was happening. Just ahead of her, she could hear the sounds of a desperate struggle in the grasses and sand. Men cussing and grunting locked in mortal battle.
Sven was giving his attack every last ounce of his strength and willpower. He was on the brink of unconsciousness, as was his foe. The struggle became a desperate mission against time. A brutal array of seeking fingers, and strained grunts as the two men contested in the sand and prickly brush.
Quite suddenly Carlos registered the grip about his throat loosening, and in his jumbled confusion, it was all the prompting he needed to wrestle his way free of the stranglehold. Sven had fainted, and with effort and a huge gasp for air, the lithe man gathered his wits and pushed the big man off him. He grabbed up the rifle fumbling with the stuck cartridge. He reloaded, and with nerveless fingers put his finger to the trigger, the gun barrel close to Sven's head. The big man's blood was spreading into the sand beneath him and looked black in the thin light. He was about to pull the trigger….
“Carlos stop! I beg you!” Raissa cried, her panicked breaths ragged. She slid to the earth in her headlong flight and put herself between the gun and her husband's prone form. “Don’t kill him, no…” She quailed. “If you have any feelings left at all Carlos, please don’t….I'm begging you my love. Don't be like them, the rest of them, please. I know you are not that man, please.” She was sobbing, raw tears of fear and terror.
Carlos looked down at the diminutive woman with the thick mop of unruly tawny hair, watching the way her milky breasts rose and fell with her terror of the moment. The rifle barrel now hovered menacingly before her pretty face. He thought he had loved her once, but really she had only been a vessel for his desire. He understood that now.
Raissa was either brave or foolish, he decided as he stood over her, raggedly panting, his raven hair wild, shirt front open divested of all its buttons in the skirmish. Yet the rifle he held in steady hands.
She looked up at him as he gazed back, his eyes orbs of blackness and she registered no emotions there. Had he truly become this cold, devoid of all she had thought he held dear. Maybe he was no different to the others, she had only wanted to believe that he could have been better. She studied every nuance of his face that she had held tenderly in her hands in times long past. That face she longed for and admitted she still loved.
“Please... let us be, go…. leave this place, there is nothing else here for you.” She entreated softly again as she looked up into his impassive features. “Sven might be too proud to surrender...”, she looked toward her vanquished husband, face down in the sand, his breathing ragged and shallow. “But I am not, and I beg you for your mercy and his life, if it’s the last thing you ever do for me, if you ever cared at all, even the tiniest bit.”
The fiery young man who had been so long enslaved wanted this vengeance. Finality: it was part of what he needed to put this episode of his life behind him to heal and move forward. Yet the young mother's appeal did not fall on deaf ears. He lowered the rifle but said nothing. Taking one more long look at Raissa and walked away into the dark.
Lucy had emerged from the mouth of the cave holding the child, she was hesitant to approach. A faint breeze stirred the grasses and dried brush, and somewhere in the distance a lone plover called to the darkness adding to the sound of Raissa’s tears.
*****
Renard sent a party of his most trusted and compassionate men back to the valley, led by Dale. He wanted to be sure that if there were any survivors they would be cared for. If they wished to leave that accursed place his men had been ordered to offer assistance and transport to those that remained.
He wheeled his own horse about and headed for home, the women needed urgent medical care and it was not good for them to be out in the chill night air, he wished to make for shelter as fast as he was able.
*****
Carlos rode away heading south, he had no idea of what he would find there. However, this chapter of his life he was determined would be closed. He would be a slave to no man ever again, the only chains he would consent to wear would belong to Lady Death herself.
It felt good to be free, riding, and alone without the direction of others in the desert night air. The sky was cloudless and the stars shone with a fierce luminescence. His body had cooled after the struggle, and he began to shiver partly with the cold and partly with the come down of his adrenaline surge. He reached about fumbling in his saddlebags for a heavier shirt with the buttons still intact.
As he rode he fought to remember his exodus from the city on the fateful day, the day the world as he knew it ended. He had been very young, maybe just thirteen at that time. He had thought then rather foolishly that he was all grown up. Smart, and streetwise, he had been out with his two best mates Suresh and Evan. The boys had grown up together and attended the same school, if and when the tight-knit trio even bothered to attend. Truant they were, some of Marion High school's worst.
This day though they had decided against going into the city proper as they usually did to frequent the arcades and bright storefronts. They had in fact planned an adventure into the surrounding hills. Deciding to take their bicycles up to Mt Lofty. Carlos didn’t really wish to go, but his mates had talked him into it. Little did he know then that that reluctant decision would save his life.
When the blast happened shortly after one pm, the boys were in the hills watching on in sheer horror the apocalypse movie unfolding before them in real life. Carlos had screamed at his buddies to take cover, fortunately, they were over twenty miles distant from ground zero. The sight and sound he would never forget as he watched his entire world and those he loved evaporate before his eyes.
After witnessing the atomic flash Carlos and his friends suffered temporary blindness, and for some days thereafter, they wandered alone and afraid stomachs growling. They hid for a time in some bushland near the M 1 roadway, but eventually, thirst drove them to move. The three boys were shocked to see the M 1 crowded with all manner of vehicles and people fleeing the city valley below. That though was not the worst of it, the injuries, horrific burns, some of the people looked like zombies their hair and clothes burnt off, yet somehow they still found the will to flee. It was a vision of macabre horror.
The three boys didn’t know what they should do, their supplies only meant for a day trip were almost gone. The rush to escape the city was leading to some very violent behavior among the fleeing, the strongest already beginning to take from the weak. Death began to become a reality and many bodies were strewn along the M 1 along with the skeletons of burnt-out vehicles.
There were no police and no semblance of order. Carlos had never liked the ‘Pigs’ as he and his buddies termed them, but he was wishing for them now. They were but three boys thrust into this new and terrible world.
When they could they would leave the road, it seemed way too dangerous to travel on it directly. They made their way through the back roads until they left the hills. After that, they were forced to take the M 1 directly out into the desert. Thirst and hunger were the enemy. This was easily the worst part of the entire journey.
Occasionally though they would encounter benevolent folk who would share items with them. They were but young boys after all, and even in this strife some good people still felt pity. A bottle of water here, some candy bars, or a bag of crisps, and somehow the boys made their way on bicycles to the Bridge and relative safety.
He wondered what he would find there now in that chaotic river town, where he had fled as a teen? He recalled vividly the vast swell of people, there were no places for them all to live. Sprawling refugee cities sprung up on the surrounding plains, built of whatever flimsy materials that could pass as a shelter. Tents, tarps, corrugated iron, wood, and even cardboard all were fair game.
In this spreading squalor of human misery and death Carlos and his two best friends made their lives in that town. Thievery, con jobs, whatever it took to survive. Maybe the place would be no different, but it was a melting pot of humanity, and he longed to revisit it.