Into the River Lands (Darkness After Series Book 2) (5 page)

The stranger asking the questions looked at his companions with a confused expression. “I didn’t see a church camp downriver, did any of you? I can’t recall passing any other canoes on the river, either.”

The man nearest him, who was carrying a short semiautomatic rifle that April now knew was some variety of an AR-15, was the first to answer. “Nope, I haven’t seen a soul out here, Wayne.”

The other two shook their heads in agreement. Now all of them had their gaze fixed on April to see what she would say next. But David spoke again instead.

“We’re just trying to get our daughter to safety, that’s all. You can imagine how difficult it is to know where to go.”

“How old is she?” the one the other had called Wayne asked.
 

“She’s nearly two,” April answered, as she began backing away from the men across the sand, in a move to get closer to David and take Kimberly into her own arms.
 

“Wait!” Wayne stopped her. “Don’t move any closer to that rifle!”
 

April froze as the other man with AR leveled his weapon at her. One of the other two stepped forward at a nod from the leader and moved to pick up April’s carbine from where it was laying on her blanket, next to the longbow Mitch had given her.

“I just wanted my baby! DON’T YOU TOUCH HER!” April screamed, looking at the one who was now holding her gun and her bow.

“We don’t want anything to do with your kid,” Wayne said. “I just didn’t want you to get any ideas about doing something funny with that weapon. A man can’t be too careful around strangers these days.”

“
You
are
the ones who came uninvited into our camp brandishing weapons,” April replied. “I’m not dumb enough to try something stupid like that with the four of you standing there with guns in your hands. I just don’t want you frightening my child!”
 

When the other man had reached for the carbine, David had stepped back out of the way with Kimberly putting her even farther out of reach. April knew there was another rifle under his blanket, a bolt-action Winchester .270 that had been issued to him by the church members for his duty as a defender, but with their child in his arms she knew he wouldn’t make a foolish move for it. She was glad that it was out of sight, but it was useless to them now whether the men saw it or not. What could either of them do with one bolt-action rifle against three men armed with semiautomatics who were standing over them at the ready? And although the talkative one, the one called Wayne, carried that weird, high-tech bow instead of a rifle, he was also wearing a Glock in a low-slung holster strapped to his thigh.
 

“Ruger Mini-14,” the one who had picked up the gun said as he held it up for the others to see.
 

This elicited another chuckle from the rest of the men. “Piece of worthless junk for hunting,” Wayne said. “You probably couldn’t hit a deer broadside with that thing at eighty yards.”

April knew better but said nothing. The rifle had already accounted for more than one man who’d decided to use the circumstances as an excuse to revert to indecency and savagery.
 

“I don’t know what the hell this stick is for,” the other man said, holding up her bow in his other hand.

“Why that’s a homemade longbow, Jared. It’s just not strung. So, who’s the archer?” Wayne turned to David. “Is that your stick bow?” He had an even bigger grin on his face as he viewed the simple wooden weapon with obvious contempt. From the machine-like contraption he carried, April knew he wouldn’t appreciate the careful craftsmanship Mitch had put into making the traditional weapon he loved so much. She didn’t care what this jerk thought though, really.

“I am,” she said.
 

“Really? Can you hit anything with it? I’d like to see that!”

“I don’t have any arrows left. But look, we were just getting ready to pack up and leave. We’ve got a long way to go today and we need to get on the river early. If you don’t trust me with my carbine, then just unload it and give it back to me. We’ll just paddle away and you’ll never see us again. But we really need to get going.”

“It didn’t look like you were in a hurry to me,” Wayne said, glancing up at the sun. “It must be nearly nine o’clock by now. Your husband and the baby girl were still sacked out and you were just rekindling the fire. You can’t tell me you weren’t going to have some breakfast first, and probably coffee to go with it, especially on a crisp morning like this. I’ll bet you’ve got coffee in your bags there, haven’t you? We haven’t had our coffee this morning. In fact we haven’t had any coffee in so long I can barely remember what it tastes like. Why don’t you put some water on to boil and let’s all sit down and visit over a cup or two?”

“We don’t
have
coffee! Really, I’m telling you the truth. We barely got out of Hattiesburg with enough food for just a few days. Wherever you guys have come from, you know as well as I do how scarce things like coffee are by now. It’s hard enough just getting something to eat.”

“I’m sure it is, with that crappy Mini 14 with iron sights and a homemade bow; not to mention a lazy husband that sleeps past sunup!”

“Hey! I’m not lazy!” David said, a touch of anger in his voice. “We paddled all day yesterday. We didn’t get any sleep the two nights before. I was just catching up a bit.”

Wayne just shook his head and looked at April again with that grin that was totally dismissive of anything David had to say. She was getting really creeped out by this guy and what she wanted more than anything was for him and his friends to just
leave
. But she already knew that wasn’t going to happen, at least not as quickly and painlessly as she wanted it to. What
was
happening was that a highly uncomfortable situation was developing, and it was shaping up to be a problem that would soon be out of control. Wayne and his friends weren’t leaving until they got what they wanted, and April was beginning to realize that what they wanted might just be
her
.

Eight

T
HE
VOICES
M
ITCH
HEARD
were too far away for him to understand any of what was being said, but as he stood motionless listening, he had no doubt that they were real and not some trick of gurgling water in the nearby creek. From Jason’s expression, Mitch knew he could hear them too. Mitch didn’t want to make a move though until he knew if the speakers were stationary, coming closer or moving farther away. As he listened he could pick out several distinct tones that told him the conversation was an exchange between more than just two people, and that at least one of them was a female. That was odd, because all of the four sets of tracks he’d been following since finding the place where the unknown archer had rejoined his companions were made by man-sized boots.
 

The voices were clearly coming from the direction in which the tracks led, so Mitch felt it safe to assume that at least some of those he could hear speaking were the same who had passed this way in company with the archer. If that were the case, they hadn’t traveled far since wounding the deer late yesterday. The only explanation for that was that they must have camped nearby and perhaps even now were still at their campsite. Mitch wanted to know for sure, and to do that, he had to get closer, but Jason was a liability for that kind of reconnaissance. Although he was an eager student and Mitch had been patiently teaching him ever since he’d recovered from the brutal beating he’d received from the Wallace brothers who had kidnapped their little sisters, Jason still had a lot to learn. The art of stalking, in particular, was something Mitch had been perfecting since he was six or seven, when he first began pretending he was an Indian while playing games in which he tried to sneak up on his father in the woods and around their farm. He had practiced those skills from the time he began hunting with BB guns until he graduated to real firearms, and ultimately, the traditional bow and arrows he now favored above all else. It would be impossible for Jason or anyone else just starting out to approach anything near Mitch’s level of competence in a few short months.
 

Realizing this, and considering the potential dangers of the situation, Mitch wasn’t taking any chances on Jason making a misstep or otherwise alerting these strangers to their presence. It simply wasn’t worth the risk. Stepping close to his friend so he could whisper into his ear, Mitch told him of his intentions and then led Jason to a hideaway in a bay thicket between the creek and the trail the men had made yesterday. Giving him instructions to stay put and keep a sharp lookout unless called, Mitch then slipped off into the direction of the voices, a broadhead arrow nocked and ready on his bowstring.
 

Mitch had no intention of confronting the trespassers, and certainly hoped he wouldn’t need the arrow or the handgun strapped to his side. Ideally, he would observe them without being seen and hopefully ascertain that they were just passing through the area on their way to someplace else. Once he knew they were moving on, he could forget the incident and he and Jason would pack the remainder of the venison back to the house.
 

With Jason waiting behind, Mitch could move fast while still making little discernible sound. The key to moving quietly through the woods—he’d discovered through trial and error and diligent practice—was learning to scan the way ahead each time he stopped to look and listen. Doing this, he could pick in advance the best route for the next twenty or so steps, avoiding the worst patches of crackly, dry leaves, fallen branches and other obstacles to stealthy movement. Mitch did this instinctively now with little thought, weaving silently among the thickets and around trees in the path of least resistance as effortlessly as a city-bred pedestrian navigated busy streets and avoided getting hit by cars.
 

He was quickly out of Jason’s view in a few moments, melting into the greenery in his head-to-toe camouflage. Mitch knew that whenever he paused to look and listen it was impossible for anyone to see him at a distance beyond a few yards. The form-breaking effect of the tree bark and leaf pattern camo was quite effective. Movement and only movement would allow him to be seen by either humans or wildlife, and so each time before moving again he carefully scanned his surroundings to make certain he was still alone. And when he did move, it was deliberate and fluid, with none of the quick or jerky patterns of the inexperienced and impatient that would announce his presence to every living thing within a hundred yards.
 

As he closed the distance to the source of the voices, it became apparent that the speakers were stationary rather than approaching or moving farther away. This was good news to Mitch, as it meant he could approach them on his own terms, getting as close as needed to observe them and establish their intentions. Each time he stopped to listen, a little closer than the last time, the individual voices became more distinct and he could begin to make out a few words. It was then that he realized this was not a normal conversation among friends. He could hear the tension in the voices as he listened, especially that of the woman or girl. He also heard for the first time the crying of a small child, as well as at least two or three distinct male voices. But he was still too far away to make out enough of it to figure out what the commotion was about. There was anger and fear in the exchange, of that he was certain, and the way it seemed to be escalating prompted Mitch to move as fast as he could while remaining stealthy. Something intense was happening, and though it wasn’t his concern, he couldn’t help his natural curiosity to find out what this was about.
 

In recent weeks survival on the Henley property had settled pretty much into an easy routine. It had been awhile since there had been any drama of any kind, much less real danger. Now all of a sudden with the discovery of the wounded deer, it seemed a lot was happening all at once. Even if the argument was a squabble over something that was none of his business, Mitch found it an interesting game to stalk closer and observe. Like when he was a kid playing such games every day, this was grand entertainment in a world where such diversions were few and far between.
 

The sounds of the voices were leading him along the creek bank now, and as he got closer, he became quite certain that whoever these people were, they were on the sandbar on the opposite bank from him. It was a sandbar he knew well, since it was so close to the house and this part of the creek was his extended backyard. He was glad of this really, because it meant they were out in the open where he could easily see them, but the bank on his side was heavily wooded and would make it easy for him to stay hidden.
 

It was only one more bend in the stream before the sandbar would be in view, so Mitch kept his approach slow but stopped less frequently now that he knew for sure where they were. Before he reached the beginning of the bend, he walked right into an area where the strangers had obviously camped for the night. That seemed odd, since he’d assumed they must have camped on the sandbar, since they were there now, this early in the morning. But the cleared away vines and other undergrowth, as well as the compressed leaves and scattered trash, left no doubt someone had slept here. Mitch picked up a torn MRE wrapper. There were three more on the ground nearby. Whoever these hunters were, they apparently still had supplies from before the collapse. Maybe that was why they hadn’t bothered to try and track the deer, or maybe they were simply unskilled at hunting and were still living off stockpiles of survival food such as this. Mitch figured that was it, especially considering all the noise they were making now. Anyone with survival knowledge and experience would keep their voices lower, even if they
were
arguing and fighting. But even so, Mitch wasn’t about to take it for granted that they were completely unaware or stupid. He left the campsite with as much caution as before as he neared the sandbar. He hadn’t gone ten yards when he was stopped in his tracks by a scream from the woman he’d heard mixed in with the other voices. This time he could understand clearly what she said: