Road Warriors: A Levi Walsh Adventure, page 16
“Christ on a crutch,” Hank said. “These bitches stink. You don’t notice it as much until they’s all bunched together like this.”
“I hadn’t noticed it,” Red said. “Maybe it’s that you’re so much closer to the smelly parts, being short?”
“Fuck you, Red,” Hank said. “It got nothing to do with my height.”
“Maybe not,” Red said. “Hell, we all stink, but we notice it now because we’re fucking sober. I’d kill for a bottle of anything.“
“Who’re these turds we’re hanging?” Hank said.
Another two guards were leading three men, shackled and hooded, up the three stairs to the platform of the gallows. They all had signs pinned to them that read ‘Rebel Traitors.’ The guards shoved the prisoners into a line and then tore off their hoods. All three were sobbing and begging for mercy.
“The first one is old man Henderson, the pharmacist,” Red said. “They found six bottles of vodka in his house. The second guy worked for Henderson. Third guy is Kyle Porter, some kind of a manager at Stevens’ liquor stores before all this. He had half a case of bourbon hid in a closet. Idiot.”
“What, they think they stole that booze before they blew up the store?” Hank said. “Doesn’t seem like much.”
“That’s what I heard,” Red said. “I’m good with that story.”
Behind the condemned men was a line of four wooden crates, stood on their ends, with a wide wooden plank laid on top. The guards prodded the three with their rifles to climb atop the platform, which was difficult with their hands and feet bound. Then a man with a small stepladder tightened a noose at the neck of each of them in turn, as others pulled the ropes taut, lifting the men onto their toes.
That seemed to be the cue for General Lucius Stevens to walk to the front of the gallows platform, where he sneered at the men suspended there. Stevens wore his dress uniform, comically ornate like a costume from a low-budget movie. He turned and faced the townspeople who were crowded into the center of the square, with female prisoners separated to the right and male to the left. Someone in the crowd called out.
“Old Man Henderson? Really?”
Stevens threw both arms into the air dramatically, motioning for quiet.
“This is a proud day for Union Springs, my friends,” he said. “I bring you the end of the pathetic rebel uprising that has plagued our town in recent weeks. These three men were the ringleaders, but I assure you, their followers are being hunted down as I speak, and several have already been exterminated.”
On the scaffold, Henderson and the others were shaking their heads, tears streaking their faces. There were grumbles of dissent among the townspeople.
“No need to take my word for it, friends,” Stevens yelled, quieting the crowd. “These criminals were tried fairly, and we had an eye witness to their treachery!”
A guard shoved Tom Muncy forward, where he stood shaking, eyes wide. His hair was still singed away, and he had angry red patches of skin on his scalp and cheeks.
“I… uh was at the liquor store when the rebels broke in and beat me up,” Tom stammered. “These three, they were there, like, running it. That one there, Kyle Porter, he hit me with his rifle.” The three condemned men looked shocked.
“What?” Porter gasped. “I don’t even own a rifle.”
“Why are you saying this?” Henderson said. “Tom, I know you.”
“We’ve heard enough from these traitors,” Stevens shouted. “Gag them, now.”
The guards jumped forward and shoved rags into the men’s mouths, throwing them off balance, their feet slipping as they strained against the nooses that held them upright. Lucius Stevens stepped up and savagely kicked the wooden plank, sending it and the crates crashing back. The men dangled by their necks, their feet suspended over the platform. Porter and the other man fought frantically, straining and pulling at their restrained arms, but Henderson only twitched a few times, then hung limp, twisting slightly on the rope as his mouth gaped, moaning around his gag.
What followed seemed to take a long time but was actually just a few minutes, and then it was over. The gathered townspeople stared silently, though a few men laughed and yelled taunts at the three men who had been lynched. Then scattered people, mostly family groups, turned and walked away silently.
Among the gathered female prisoners, Maureen Foster had an arm around Kara, the teenager from her work crew in the vegetable fields, as the girl sobbed quietly. Elise, the young woman from Midway, stood nearby.
“I can’t believe it,” Kara moaned. “That’s it? The rebels are dead?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Maureen said. “Those three couldn’t organize a food fight, I knew them. Ike Henderson was a decent man, but weak.”
“But, he said they’ve caught more,” Kara said. “Their followers.”
“Stevens is a liar,” Elise said. “If they had anyone else, they’d have brought them, in addition to those three.” Kara looked at them.
“So, you think the rebels are still out there?” she said, sniffling. “Still fighting for us?”
“I guarantee it,” Maureen said. “I can feel it in my gut, there’s still hope. We have to hang on, girls. We can’t give up.”
Inside the Courthouse, Lucius Stevens gathered seven of his remaining guards. Hands on his ivory-gripped revolvers, he paced for a long moment.
“I want you seven, and all of our remaining militia members,” he finally said. “On perimeter patrol around the main camp, three hundred yards out, twenty-four/seven in six-man shifts from now on.”
The seven, which included Red Davis and Hank Hopkins, stared in shock.
“What about the prisoners?” a man said. Stevens snarled.
“The losers we pulled from the town can watch them with a few of you supervising,” he said. “Go grab more if you need them. Those rebels are still out there. They’ll think our guard is down after the show we just put on.” He paused, staring at the men.
“Wait for them, then grab their asses when they try to sneak in. All the bourbon we got from Porter goes as a bounty to the patrol that does it. How does that sound?”
“Sounds great, boss,” Red said. “We’re on it. If any of you think I’m sharing that hootch, you’re crazy.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Near Union Springs, Alabama
Thursday, June 5, 2:15PM
Becca exhaled, then fired her rifle. The tom turkey she had selected jerked, then slumped to the ground as the rest of the flock milled about in confusion. Becca cycled the bolt on her Ruger hunting rifle and took aim at a fat hen. She waited until the agitated bird settled a bit, its head and neck centered in the crosshairs of the Swarkovski scope, then fired. The head disappeared, and the rest of the hen dropped next to the dead tom.
“Jeez, Becca,” Caitlin said. “Do you ever miss?
“Not recently,” Becca said.
She chambered another round, then checked to be sure the tang safety switch was set forward. Titan was poised next to the girls, head up and ears alert.
“You going to send him after them?” Caitlin asked. Becca shook her head.
“Two birds is too much for him,” she said. “Get your basket, we’ll pick them up.”
Becca already had two good-sized rabbits tied to her backpack, flopping about as she walked. Caitlin carried a canvas basket, which already had a thick layer of mushrooms mounded inside.
“Isn’t this an awful lot of meat?” Caitlin said. “Those are big turkeys.”
“My dad wants to replenish our smoked meat supplies,” Becca said. “We gave a bunch of it to the Midway group.” Caitlin nodded.
“I guess that makes sense,” she said. “Is he worried about winter?”
“Not really,” Becca said. “We’re still pretty far south for that.” She paused for a moment. “I think, the way things are, he thinks there’s never enough.”
They were in a broad meadow, cluttered with downed trees and small stands of saplings. Caitlin could tell that her friend was paying attention to their conversation, but at the same time she was scanning the edges of the meadow for threats.
“Tell me some more about how you find those mushrooms,” Becca said. She had registered everything Caitlin had said previously but knew that she’d never eat a mushroom she found by herself.
“Well, again, you don’t really look for mushrooms,” Caitlin said. “You look for the places where they would grow, especially if you want a particular type.”
Caitlin glanced around the clearing, studying the downed trees before spotting one that had its root ball unearthed, with no live growth on the upper branches.
“Like that tree, it’s a dead elm,” Caitlin said. “Low lying area, lots of moisture, bark and moss around. Let’s check it.”
She moved closer, leaning over and studying the ground near the trunk and shattered larger limbs.
“What are we looking for?” Becca asked.
“Morels, they love dead elms,” Caitlin said. “Callum wanted me to find some. There!”
She cleared some leaves and twigs away and harvested three beautiful mushrooms with conical caps and a distinctive honeycombed appearance.
“We’re at the late end of the season for these,” Caitlin said, clearing more area. “But it’s been cool lately. Check the other side.”
Becca moved around the root ball, dropping down and crawling as she pushed back the dead roots and muck that had gathered there. She nearly screamed when she saw a morel, even larger than the ones Caitlin found. Becca kept going, finding four more of the delicious edible fungi. Becca’s tactical pants were muddy but she didn’t care, she felt like a kid hunting Easter eggs. Cupping her mushrooms to her chest, she ran back to Caitlin.
“I got five!” Becca boasted, then looked into the basket, where well over
a dozen morels were piled.
“That’s great!” Caitlin said. “Callum will be pleased. We should probably dry some of these, to save them.”
“You’re sure these are safe?” Becca said. Caitlin smiled.
“Well, there are false morels,” she said. “Those will kill you.”
Suddenly alarmed, Becca held out the mushrooms she harvested.
“Maybe you should check these?”
“They’re beautiful, Becca,” Caitlin said. “Don’t worry. Hey, we better go get those turkeys before something else gets them.”
This jolted Becca. She dumped her mushrooms into the basket and did a careful three-sixty degree scan of the meadow. She’d been so preoccupied with the mushrooms, distracted like a little kid, that a threat could have walked up and kicked her in the ass as she scrambled on her knees next to the downed tree.
“You’re right,” Becca said. “Titan and I will go get the turkeys. You stay here, and… look around.”
Titan bounding at her side, Becca walked to the dead birds, now fully alert. She prepared the tom and the hen for carrying, then strapped them to her belt by their feet. Becca felt agitated, and annoyed. She’d broken the first rule of woodcraft, especially in the intensely hostile environment they lived in. Regardless of what else you’re doing, your head stays on a swivel, alert and focused for danger. She could have gotten them killed or captured. Walking back to Caitlin, Becca resolved to let the other girl focus on mushrooms while she did her job of keeping them safe.
“We should head back,” Becca said. “We’ve been away for a while.”
Caitlin covered her mushroom basket with a cloth, and then hurried to catch up to Becca, who was moving rapidly.
“Becca, are you okay?” Caitlin said. “You seem upset.”
“Me, no,” Becca said. “We did good, and you’re right, Callum will be happy with the mushrooms, my dad too, he loves them.” She paused, scanning the tree line ahead of them.
”We can bone one of these bunnies and make a nice stew. The garden is about done, but I saw some bell peppers, and I think some kind of a squash, we can add those, too.”
“So, should I look for more mushrooms?” Caitlin asked.
“Only if they’re on the way,” Becca said. “You do your thing, and I’ll do mine.”
They continued, stopping twice to collect summer oyster mushrooms, which Caitlin said dried well.
“Will this be, like, a celebration?” Caitlin said. “Getting ready for tomorrow? I’m still surprised that Levi is letting us go.” Becca frowned.
“What? We need you,” she said. “You know the guards.”
“I know,” Caitlin said. “But this might be dangerous, right?”
“It’ll be fine,” Becca said. “My dad knows what he’s doing.”
“You two are close,” Caitlin said. “I never spent much time with my dad. Callum did, but he’s a guy, so he mattered.”
As they walked, Becca thought about what Caitlin said, wondering how things would be different if she’d had a brother. Perhaps her Gramps wouldn’t have worked so hard to train her and wouldn’t have pushed her to excel at hunting and everything else.
“My dad and I are closer now,” Becca said. “But growing up, he wasn’t around, we barely knew each other.” Caitlin’s mouth dropped open.
“Becca, that can’t be true,” she said. “Levi worships you, and he depends on you so much.” Becca scoffed.
“Yeah, well, maybe he shouldn’t,” she said. “I’m supposed to be perfect all the time, but I’m not, not even close. I make all kinds of mistakes, and I’m only seventeen, still a kid.”
Caitlin was quiet because she didn’t know what to say. Levi wasn’t the only one who depended on Becca, she and Callum looked up to the girl, and saw her as half of their salvation, the invincible force that would defeat Stevens and his men. Hearing Becca doubt herself scared Caitlin to her core.
Levi saw the pair returning, carrying their bounty.
“The hunter, home from the hill,” he said, smiling.
Becca unhooked the turkeys from her belt and handed them to her father. He hefted the birds, then lifted the cloth cover from Caitlin’s basket.
“Jeez, look at all these morels!” he said. “You did great.”
“Becca found some of them,” Caitlin said. “And she shot the turkeys and rabbits, you should have seen it, Levi.”
Caitlin turned and saw her brother carrying a load of firewood toward the house. She lifted the basket of mushrooms.
“We need to sun-dry most of these,” Caitlin said. “Callum can help me, he knows how. I’ll, uh… talk to you later, Becca.”
Caitlin ran to Callum to show him the mushrooms, then after he added the firewood to the pile on the porch, she took his arm and leaned close, speaking quietly.
“Is Caitlin okay?” Levi said. “She seems nervous about something.”
“She’s fine,” Becca said. “Maybe just worried about tomorrow. I need to get these turkeys processed and put the meat in the smokehouse. Can you get it heated up?”
Levi nodded, then moved toward the smokehouse, shaking his head.
Dinner that evening was delicious, a fresh rabbit stew with some garden vegetables and a variety of mushrooms, including morels and summer oysters. Caitlin made biscuits and while there were still a few jokes, the girl had now mastered the creation of their flaky, moist, baked staple food. During the meal, Levi noticed that Caitlin praised Becca several times for her marksmanship that day, particularly with the two turkeys. Callum reminded the group about Becca shooting the two guards that were in his fishing skiff, exaggerating the distance and dramatizing the impact of the rounds. Becca usually downplayed this sort of talk, but now she simply ignored it. When everyone had finished their meal, Levi addressed the two Foster teens.
“We have a big day tomorrow,” he said. “Do either of you have questions or concerns about what we plan to do?”
“Not really,” Callum said. “We both trust you guys, both you and, of course, Becca too.” Caitlin was nodding.
“Yeah, we’re good,” she said. “Just tell us what you need us to do.”
“I was thinking, though,” Callum said. “We have that beer Becca found. Maybe we could each have one, kind of a toast about tomorrow.”
“I thought you said the beer I picked sucked,” Becca said.
“Heck, that was a joke,” Callum said. “Natty Light is my favorite, I drank it all the time, right Caitlin?” She nodded.
“Yeah, him and his friends loved it,” Caitlin said. “You’re like a psychic, Becca.”
Callum walked to the counter and picked up the six-pack of cans. At the table, he pulled one away for Becca and Caitlin, then took another and offered it to Levi. He waved it away.
“No, this is for you kids,” he said, lifting his glass of tea. “Enjoy it.” Callum shrugged.
“Well, it’ll come out even this way,” he said, then popped the tab on his can and took a sip. “Oh, man, that’s a lot better than I expected.”
Becca reacted with an eye roll and Caitlin flinched.
“He means because it’s warm,” she said. “That’s what you meant, right, Cal?”
He nodded enthusiastically, amid his next sip. Caitlin opened her can.
“Mmmm, good,” she said. “Just like when we used to steal Dad’s beer out of the fridge. Better, really.”
“Want me to open yours for you, Becca?” Callum said.
“I think I can handle a pull tab,” Becca snapped. “I’m not helpless.”
Becca stood with her can of beer and then stormed toward the front porch.
Levi looked shocked, but the two teens just looked defeated, Callum reached out and put a hand on his sister’s arm.
“Did something happen today?” Levi asked Caitlin. She shook her head.
“No, not really,” she said. “She was just like this all of a sudden, like negative. We were trying to cheer her up.”
Levi sighed, then walked toward the porch. He found his daughter slouched in one of the upholstered deck chairs, staring into the increasing darkness of nightfall. He sat in the other chair and leaned back.
“That was pretty rude in there,” he said. “You want to talk about it?”
“No. I don’t,” Becca said. “I had a long day, okay?”
“That’s fine,” Levi said. “I can just sit here and drink my tea.”
