Trail of Tears (15 page)

Harris sighed. He had just come from a
planning meeting and the litany of problems tumbled through his
mind. The fires had consumed their main food store leaving them
with rations for five hundred when they needed enough for over two
thousand. Warm weather gear was another problem. Harris was walking
the lines where their defenders had died, interrupting the burial
details long enough to remove hats, coats and gloves before
allowing the detail to continue their grisly work. He ignored their
stares as he pulled half buried bodies from their resting places
and added their clothes to their supplies. His tears had long since
dried to his face, freezing in lines on his cheeks. The needs of
the living outweighed those of their dead. No matter how callous
that might appear.

The familiar faces that greeted him in his
grisly task soon became a blur. It was only when he came to Denis
Jackson and Delilah that his control finally broke and he knelt in
the snow and cried. The bodies lay together, Delilah having clawed
her way to Jackson’s side leaving a trail of blood, now frozen,
behind her. Their hands lay entwined but their faces were frozen
with the pain they felt forever etched on their faces. Harris
looked up into the storm clouds and screamed at the elements,
releasing his rage and grief. The burial party stood uncomfortably
around him, uncertain what to do so they did nothing. He remained
there on his knees growing colder until Father Reilly finally came
and eased him to his feet. Harris barely heard the man’s words, but
the familiar voice and its comforting tone finally brought him back
and he managed to gather the clothes.

“Too many,” he whispered and Reilly held him
tighter as they struggled back through the wind and snow.

* * *

“I am not convinced we can make it that
far,” Lucy Irvine said and the resulting silence lay heavy over the
room. Harris saw the gleam in Ian Phelps’s eyes and tried hard to
ignore him. That man would laugh in triumph even as he was cut to
pieces just to know that Harris had been proven wrong.

“I’m sorry, Peter, I know that’s not what
you want to hear but we have to be practical.” She paused and took
a breath as she looked around at the faces crowded into the small
room. Their usual meeting room was being used as a hospital ward so
they had made do with the largest room they could find. In the
corner were a pitifully few boxes of canned food, their covers
scorched by flames but their contents still consumable. Too many
others had split in the heat, spilling cooking in the flames. The
smell of cooked meat and vegetables hung heavily in the air and
Harris’ stomach grumbled as he realised how hungry he was.

Harris could see that Lucy looked tired and
drawn, but her eyes sparkled with life. Lucy had looked after their
supplies since the beginning and her organisational skills were
exactly what they needed to get everyone to safety. Unfortunately,
if she didn’t think they could succeed then he would have to listen
to her and try to plan around her objections.

“Lucy, I know it will be difficult but we
don’t really have a choice,” Harris sighed as he sat down at the
table.

“I am well aware of our limited options,
Peter,” she replied with just a hint of iciness, “but the facts are
what they are. We have clothing for half of our remaining number,
food for three days, six if we ration heavily. What are you going
to do, dear? Stop at the first McDonalds you come to on the way? I
am sorry,” she countered immediately. “I am tired but that was
uncalled for.”

Harris nodded, accepting the apology and
looked around the table. He had been surprised when he had received
an invitation from the council to attend its closed-door meeting.
He had been at the hospital with Sandra, waiting for her to wake
up.
If she woke up
. Amanda had warned him that it was still
in God’s hands whether she would recover at all.

Amanda had been able to remove the bullet
from her chest; it had been lodged two inches above her heart. She
had lost a lot of blood but that wasn’t the main worry. She had
also suffered a terrible head injury, the bullet creasing her
skull, tearing a furrow and chipping the bone. Reitzig did not have
the equipment to scan the wound and see if there was any internal
damage so all she could do was monitor and wait. Of course, she had
told him that she could not be moved under any circumstances. And
she wasn’t the only one. The hospital was filled with the wounded
and dying. What were they to do? Leave them and hope Carter would
care for them? He had been sitting with her, quietly talking to
her, telling her of everything that had happened since they had
last seen each other. He had no idea if she could hear him, but the
silence had been too much to bear so he had felt compelled to fill
it.

Now, as he sat in the meeting room, he was
coming to realise that his plan of abandoning their home was fast
becoming an impossible task. But for all its impossibility, he knew
it was what they had to do.

“Lucy,” he began, looking her calmly in the
eyes, “the food we have here will not last us any longer if we are
moving or if we stay. The crops won’t be ready until the Spring, so
that cannot be the reason not to go.” He held up his hand as he saw
her prepare to respond. “I am aware of our lack of warm clothing
and the fact that not all of those who leave here are likely to
reach the train and even more are unlikely to survive the journey
south but Carter is coming. Trust me, I have talked to him, looked
into his eyes. He is consumed with hate and madness. He is coming
and when he does everyone here will be slaughtered. There will be
no reprieve. Either we go now or we decide to risk it all on a
desperate last stand. I know we are all tired and even such a
desperate gamble seems more attractive than venturing out into that
weather and into the unknown but out there we have a chance. The
children have a chance. Somehow we have to overcome the problems
and save as many as we can.”

“You are asking the impossible, Peter,” she
replied finally and then sighed. “But you have managed the
impossible before so I suppose we must do likewise.” She smiled
weakly.

Paul Williams, his previous goatee now
replaced with a wild jumble of a beard, put up his hand timidly. He
had been so much more confident with his voting when Harris had
been banished but Harris forced himself to push the past aside. He
had to work with these people, somehow, despite his feelings. He
had not forgotten that someone in this room was also a spy for Von
Richelieu or that they had killed young Jack Pearson, but that too
would have to wait. One day he would find them but, until then, the
danger that faced the rest of the community also faced the spy so
it was in their interest to do everything they could to help.

“Maybe we can use the weather to our
advantage,” Williams began and then hurriedly continued when he
heard Phelps’ snort of derision. “I mean we could build sleighs.
That way we can carry more per person than we could if we loaded
them down with packs. We will also be able to transport some of the
wounded more easily.”

“Excellent,” Harris nodded, “I can ask Emma
to get her team to search the old city, the sports shops for skis
and such. We stripped them of clothing long ago but never needed
the skis. Good thinking.” He saw Williams sit up a little
straighter and he smiled despite their situation. The others began
to lean forward and throw ideas into the room and they spent the
next hour planning.

As the meeting drew to a close they had come
up with everything they could think of. Aiden Flemming and twenty
others would set off later that day for the train station to gather
all the coal and wood they could. If he remembered correctly, they
had used up most of the supply on their last desperate journey. The
train was useless if they couldn’t source enough fuel so Flemming
and the others would have three days to do what they could to
prepare for the arrival of the rest of them. Three days to get
everyone else ready was far too long as far as Harris was
concerned, but he bowed to the others who tried to explain the
sheer size of the task. Managing the moving of two thousand people,
some sick or wounded, others old or infirm along with every scrap
of usable equipment they could carry was a huge task.

Harris only barely grasped the sheer effort
required. He was too used to organising small numbers who could
leave quickly and move freely. He was out of his depth with the
task involved here. However, he was worried about Carter arriving
and catching them before they were ready. It would be a slaughter
if Carter caught them here, or worse, out in the open.

“I have one more thing we need to discuss,”
his voice was quiet and many of the group had not heard him at
first. He coughed. “There is one more thing,” he repeated. “I am
sure we are all aware that not everyone will make the trip to the
train. We have to decide whether it is in the best interest of the
group to slow us down or whether we should leave them here.” Harris
forced himself to look everyone in the eyes; some of them dropped
their gaze quickly while others looked at him in shock and
revulsion.

“We can carry the wounded on…” Phil Reagan
began.

“Don’t be stupid, Phil,” Patricia Lohan
snapped and then grabbed Reagan’s hand in hers in apology. “If
Carter is on his way we have to move quickly. Those who are too
wounded…

“I am not leaving any of my patients,”
Amanda Reitzig thumped the table. “How dare you. Do you realise
what you are suggesting?”

“I am well aware, Amanda. Sandra is one of
those who might have to stay behind so I am well aware of what I am
suggesting.” Silence settled until Amanda finally sat back in her
chair and sighed.

“I’m still not leaving.”

“Amanda, your responsibility is to the
larger group not to the few who are too injured to be able to walk.
You can’t risk two thousand for the sake of a few.”

“Isn’t that the same argument you used when
planning your rescues, Peter? Why was it okay then and not
now?”

Harris’ face reddened as if slapped. She was
right. He had put the needs of those in captivity above those of
the community. He had been trying to build a self-sustaining
community with enough people to allow growth and safety so it
wasn’t quite the same. But it was close enough.

“I’m sorry, Peter, we’ve all lost…” Amanda
reached for his hand but Harris pulled back and stood.

“No, you’re right. I have lost sight of the
importance of the individual among the weight of the many. Of
course, we will bring everyone. I will pull together a patrol and
we’ll set some traps and try and slow Carter down. We’ll try and
buy you the time to move the wounded. I am sorry, truly.” Without
meeting anyone’s eyes, he gathered up his notes and hurried from
the room. He had been fighting so long he had managed to lose sight
of that which had caused him to begin his fight so long ago. Sandra
would be disappointed with him. Yes, the wounded would slow them
down and they might very well cause the death of some of the
others, but that did not mean they should be abandoned. He had lost
so many people he just couldn’t bear to lose anyone else. Even at
the expense of those least able to defend themselves. He was
becoming too hard he realised. He had read somewhere that fighting
changed you, but he had not been prepared for such callousness. It
had taken Amanda to remind him of his humanity and his
responsibility and he was ashamed. He strode off to find Warkowski,
his strides filled with a vigor he had been missing of late.

Curtis Kavanagh examined the map as his mind
raced. A week had passed since the humans had broken out from their
cages. A week to allow the serum infected blood to flush from his
body and he knew for certain that he had done the right thing. He
no longer suffered from the uncontrollable rages that he had felt
before. His mind was clear. He still didn’t know what had happened
or why the blood had become infected, but he was certain that Von
Richelieu had only recently discovered the side effects and had
ensured that anyone who could challenge him remained on the tainted
blood.

Kavanagh and the thirteen vampires who had
been loyal to him had made use of the human breakout to secure
their own supply of untainted humans. He had ordered his men to
make any killings of other vampires to look like they had been
attacked by the humans or the thralls but it had been a weak
strategy. Von Richelieu was no fool. The fact that Kavanagh was
missing would alert him to his escape. However, he would not be
certain that his rival had discovered the blood’s taint so he might
yet underestimate him.

Kavanagh and his followers had managed to
secure fifty-eight humans during the escape. A hoard of them had
made for the easiest route from the pens and Kavanagh had ordered
his men to take as many as they could to their new location. They
had been restricted in how far they could travel with the dawn so
close so they had found a warehouse that had appeared to be sturdy.
They had made three trips; the last one had been a desperate chase.
He and three of his followers had arrived with their skin already
blackening from the early rays from the sun. But they had made it.
He and ten of his followers had survived. One had died, two had
remained missing, and he did not know if they had been killed by
vampire, thrall, human or the damned sunlight.

The first day after the escape had been a
close thing. The humans had been belligerent, growing in confidence
as the serum’s effects leached away. The vampires had been
lethargic with light from the few windows diffusing through the
warehouse. They could not cover the windows as the area had been
too open and their numerous attempts to get near the windows had
only met with blackened flesh and screams of pain. Their situation
gave strength to the human’s resolve and they had attacked their
captors, using the most lighted places of the warehouse to gather
in numbers.