Post-Apocalyptic Nomadic Warriors (29 page)

Sarah turned from the smoke and looked into the courtyard. Logan was tied to the post. He dangled from his restraints and made no effort to stand. He was battered and bruised, partly at her own hand, but his eyes still shone a peaceful blue.

She walked slowly down a set of stairs and up to the restrained con man. She stopped in front of him and crossed her arms.

He tried to smile at her, but its effect was weakened by missing teeth and bleeding lips. He must have read the disgust in her eyes; he stopped smiling and looked at the ground.

“I’m sorry I let you down, Sarah.”

Another kick. One more scratch. That would serve him right. She reared back to strike him again, and then she stopped. He looked as if he had suffered enough. Blood ran down his lips. His left eye was all but swollen shut. His wrists bled from the restraints, and the town had yet to get their hands on him.

“How could you?” It started soft and sad and grew to rage. “How could you? How could you?”

“I had no choice, Sarah.”

“Oh, no? How about not convincing a town of innocent people to open their hearts to you while you open their gates to be murdered and herded into slavery? Maybe that was an option you hadn’t really explored.”

“They have my son, Sarah.” He still wouldn’t look at her.

Sarah was shocked. “Your son?”

“Yes. They’ve got him.” Logan looked back at her. “They were going to kill him, Sarah. What could I do? What would you do?”

Sarah’s mouth hung open, words were difficult. “I …” She trailed off, trying to shake the disbelief from her mind.

“He’s eight. He lost his mother when the world blew up.” Logan began to weep. “He only has me. We only have each other.”

Sarah rushed to him and cradled his face in her hand. She had no children, no siblings, even, but she had lost her mother. She could feel the pain of the child as the memories came rushing back.

“Please, Sarah. I have to get back to him.”

She embraced him.

“If the major truly is dead, then it’s over. I’m free. And I can go get him. I can get him and we can leave, together. He and I can be together again.”

Sarah began to sob as well, “I can’t. You know I can’t.”

“This life is over for me. I can start clean. Maybe I can even make amends.”

She hit him in the chest; the strike wasn’t hard. Her rage was gone. “You can’t do this to me, you bastard.”

“Sarah, please. Help me to be with my son. He’s only eight and he needs me. He needs a father.”

“No. I won’t let you go.”

“Don’t punish him for my sins, for the love of God.” Tears streamed from his eyes. “I have to live with what I’ve done. That is more punishment than any man deserves. But please, don’t let my son suffer.”

She looked in his eyes. She could see the suffering in the penetrating blue gaze. Sarah stood and stomped away.

Chewy saw them first. Her ears perked and she let out a single bark. It was low and loud and brought the unnoticed silence to everyone’s attention. Chewy stood and began to wag her tail, which in turn shook the entire dog.

The blue and white, and now charred, pickup crept down the road towards the town; its bed was filled with cheering children. Several more rode on the hood; they screamed with excitement.

Carl honked when he saw the spectators on the wall. The horn was weak and worn from the damage, but each blast of the horn sounded long and joyous to the awaiting crowd. Carl waved from the window and flashed the one working headlight.
 

Cheers exploded from those along the walls as the reality dawned on them that the threat to their town had been defeated. They hollered and rushed down the fortification stairs to move the truck. It had barely revealed an opening when Erica rushed out to meet the truck.

There must have been a dozen children in the bed and she searched each of their faces for her sister.

A smile grew on her face as she identified children from Vita Nova. She smiled and kissed each face she knew while scanning the throng of toddlers and preteens for her sister, Rebecca.

The crowd surrounded the truck and Carl was forced to stop. The people greeted the children and all but pulled Carl from the driver’s seat to congratulate him.

Erica’s joy dissipated as she realized that neither her sister nor Jerry were in the truck. She began to push people out of the way; she stared in the eyes of every child. She tried to ask about her sister, but her questions could not be heard over the roaring crowd.

She stopped and stood. The truck rolled past her into the town with the praise chorus following at its side.

Erica felt a warm muzzle on her hand and absentmindedly stroked Chewy’s head.

Chewy barked again and darted off, forgetting all about the attention she had been getting.

“Chewy,” Erica shouted after her and made a grab for the dog’s collar. Chewy didn’t stop.

Erica watched the dog run off and disappear behind a cluster of trees. It was only a moment later that the dog began to walk back.

The mighty mastiff was at the heel of the post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior. Behind him was a mass of almost one hundred people. In his arms was Rebecca.

THIRTY-FIVE

Erica squealed and began to cry as she grabbed the young child from Jerry’s arms. She held her so tight that the seven-year-old began to squirm.

“You’re crushing me, Erica.”

Erica eased up, but only a little. “Did they hurt you?”

“No. Mrs. Thompson kept me safe.”

Erica began to look at the other faces in the crowd. They smiled when they saw her. The captives from Vita Nova grabbed onto Erica. They all assumed that anyone not on the trailer with them had been killed. They flooded her with questions about loved ones left behind.

Smiles turned to tears as Erica was forced to shatter the hope that had been restored by her presence. She hugged whom she could as each relived the massacre of their home. She did what she could to offer comfort, but she soon felt overwhelmed. Panic welled up in her as she looked around frantically for Jerry. She held Rebecca close and found comfort only in her hugs.

Through the crowd of people she saw Jerry walking to his motor coach. Chewy was at his heel. He opened the door and stepped inside.

Panic took hold of her. He was leaving. She fought her way through the crowd of friends and rushed to the coach, running as fast as Rebecca’s weight would safely allow.

She got to the coach and pounded on the door, “Get out here, now!”

Jerry opened the door.

“You can’t do this now.”

“But …”

“No, you can’t do this and you can’t give me some crap about it being what a post-apocalyptic nomadic warrior does.”

“There’s …”

“No. No. You can’t just get ride off into the sunset.”

Jerry stepped from the coach, grabbed her by the waist, covered Rebecca’s eyes, and kissed her.

Erica did not resist, her panic abated in his embrace. She kissed him back. A moment turned into a minute. When he finally stopped she was quiet, calm, and in love—fully in love.

“Erica, I’m not going anywhere. I’m just really, really tired and I was going to take a nap.”

“Oh. Well, if you’re staying around, maybe you should kiss me again.”

Jerry smiled and obliged.

“Ewwww,” Rebecca still found men, with the marked exception of princes, gross.

Erica and Jerry chuckled at the child’s response.

There was a scream.

Sarah had screamed. The scream was part fear and part frustration that the knife at her throat was the one she had used to cut Logan’s bindings.

The warrior breathed heavily in her ear, telling her to shut up, and threatening to cut her throat. Convincing the girl to let him go had been easy. She had been less willing to be a hostage. He drove the point of the blade into her flesh to make his point.

Jerry ran towards the struggling pair.

“Forget it, Bookworm.” Logan positioned the girl directly between him and the town’s newest hero. “I’m leaving and Shelly is coming with me.”

“It’s Sarah, you bastard.”

“It doesn’t really matter, does it honey?”

Jerry slowed and raised his hands. “It’s over, Logan. Your friends are dead. There’s nowhere for you to go.”

“I’ll make new friends.”

“You let my daughter go, you lying shit!” the mayor roared from the crowd. He had been welcoming the new residents personally. There was an election coming and a hundred new votes could really help.

“Not happening, Mayor.”

“If you …”

“This is kind of your fault, Mayor,” Logan started to move towards the Mustang. “If you weren’t so stupid, I wouldn’t even be here.”

The mayor began to protest, but Jerry signaled for him to be quiet.
 

“Fine. Let the girl go,” Jerry gestured to the Mustang, “and you can leave.”

The former prisoners began to protest. Jerry turned to them. “Listen, everybody. Shut up.” He turned back to Logan who had inched closer to his Mustang.

“Let the girl go and you can just drive away.”

Logan opened the door of the Mustang and pushed Sarah’s head down into the car. “No.” He pushed her across the seat and sat down behind the wheel.

Sarah tried to scramble out the passenger door, but Logan grabbed a lock of her hair and pulled her back in the car.

The Mustang roared to life. The exhaust stirred dirt into the air. The spinning wheels spat gravel into the crowd. The crowd scattered, seeking cover from the tiny missiles.

Jerry broke into a sprint to the motor coach.

The Mustang sped out of town.

“Get after him! Everyone!” The mayor ran after the Ford.

“Where are you going?” Erica yelled as Jerry rushed by her.

“I’ve got to save her.” He dashed up the steps to the coach. The door rattled shut behind him.

“But you can’t catch him in this,” Erica ran to the massive vehicle and tore open the door. She rushed into the cockpit. Jerry wasn’t there. Chewy lay in the passenger seat annoyed; Erica had woken her.

“Where is he?”

The dog looked puzzled and lay back down.

The rear of the coach began to rumble. The weakened walls rattled.

Erica spun and saw a panel in the rear of the cabin hanging open. It was dark beyond the small door for just a moment. Then it was flooded with sunlight.