Marching As to War: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel (16 page)

When it happened, I was half asleep, plodding along with my
head down, dumbly watching the boot heels of the man walking about ten feet in
front of me. I was tired and thinking about food. The man in front of me
stopped. I stopped too and looked up to see why. Just then, his head exploded.
A sudden spray of blood and meat.

I remember feeling rather than hearing the roar of automatic
rifles, and bullets ripping up the air around me. As I lifted my rifle, there
was a huge white flash a few yards in front of me.

The next thing I remember is being face down in the dirt. I
raised my head just a little and saw several soldiers walking slowly out of the
trees, stepping over the torn-up bodies of my friends. I could see the soldiers
were talking to one another, but couldn’t hear them. I couldn’t hear anything.
None of them seemed to take any notice of me.

There was movement to my left, and I looked that way. Two
soldiers had Jane. One was pulling the rifle out of her hands, and the other
had an arm around her throat, a chokehold.

I tried to get up, but the ground seemed to tilt and slide
away, and I went down hard on my hands and knees. The soldier had gotten the
rifle away from her, and she was struggling, using both hands to pull the arm
from around her throat. That’s when she caught sight of me, pulled hard on the
arm, and managed to shout something while shaking her head.

I was almost on my feet again when a soldier stepped out
from behind a tree. He brought a rifle butt toward my head. I could see it
coming, so fast yet slow enough for me to remember the scratches on the stock.
I just watched it come closer and wondered why I wasn’t trying to duck.

When I opened my eyes again, it was night, and the world was
tilting first to the left, then to the right, and to left again. I was slumped
against a tree with my hands bound behind me, and my ankles tied together with
a leather strap. My arms and legs hurt. Everything hurt. I could see the light
of a fire off to my left, but when I turned my head to look, I felt a brilliant
flash inside my head. I closed my eyes and tried to slip away from the pain and
hide in the darkness.

It was morning when I came back. I was still slumped against
the tree with my hands and ankles bound. Everything still hurt, especially my
wrists and hands, but I didn’t feel sick or dizzy anymore. I was tired, hungry,
and thirsty. In front of me was a small patch of muddy ground about ten feet
across with trees on the other side. I didn’t see anyone.

Then the memories: The ambush. Jane.
The
rifle butt.
For a moment, I had to fight a helpless panic. That’s when a
soldier walked into view and squatted in front of me. He didn’t say anything,
but looked at me close, studying me. I just stared at him, feeling unsure and
slow in the head. Without looking away, he called to someone I couldn’t see,
“He’s awake.”

A voice off to my left said, “Good. Give him some water.”
The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

The squatting soldier stepped away and came back with a
canteen. He screwed off the top and tipped some water into my mouth. I
swallowed, and he gave me some more. As I swallowed that, he poured some over
my face. The water helped me feel more like myself. More awake anyway. Then
that soldier stepped back, and another squatted down in front of me. It took a
moment to recognize him.

“Remember me, boy?” he said.

“Lieutenant Hobbes. Jane let you go.”

“Right.
That got me a promotion.
I’m a Captain now.” He smiled.

“Is she alive?” I said,

“Yeah.
The others are dead. You’d
be too, but I wanted to talk a little.”

“Before you shoot me?” I said. I knew, knew for a fact,
Hobbes was going to kill me. The strange thing was it didn’t bother me, not
near as much as other times I thought I might die. Maybe it was losing Jane and
Riley, maybe it was being angry, or maybe it was getting busted in the head,
but somehow I didn’t care.

He shrugged.
“Yeah.
I’m going to
shoot you. That’s what you were going to do to me, wasn’t it?”

“We were.
Too bad.”

He smiled. “I ought to tell you there is a way to stay
alive. Just swear allegiance to the United
States--”

“Fuck you.”

“Of course, you’d spend the next few years at hard labor,
maybe working in a mine. We call it rehabilitation. But most die before their
time is up.”

“Glad I made the right choice. What’d you want to talk
about?”

“You in a hurry to get shot?”

“Can’t say as I’m enjoying your company
much.”

He laughed. “Okay. Why did she do it?”

“She told you.”

“You mean God? God told her to fight us?”

“Yeah, God.”

He shook his head. “You believe God talked to her?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t. But she believes.”

“If you don’t know, why’d you follow her around like some trained
dog?”

“None of your fucking business,” I said. “But I’ll tell you
this. Fighting you
sumbitches
was the best thing I
ever did.”

“But your leaders made peace with us. And Jane didn’t. Your
friends are dead because of her.”

“No. My friends are dead because of you. She kept fighting
because you slaughtered women and children. She kept fighting because you won’t
leave us alone. She kept fighting because your ‘peace’ is just another way of
making war.”

“There’s only room for one government on this continent.
We’ll do whatever is necessary.”

“No matter how many folks you have to kill.”

He shrugged. “Whatever is
necessary.
”

We looked at each other for a long moment. I don’t know what
he saw, or didn’t see, in my eyes, but I couldn’t find the least glimmer of a
troubled conscience in his. I wondered if he lost it back in the dark hungry
days after the Plague, or if the Government took it from him later. Or maybe he
never had a conscience. Anyway, it didn’t matter.

I said, “What’s going to happen to Jane?”

“She’ll be tried for her crimes.”

“Crimes?
What crimes?”

“Treason.
Murder.
Terrorism.
War crimes.
You
know, she killed a lot of innocent people in that Waynesville fire. Anyway, I’m
sure they’ll think of something good.”

“Why don’t you just shoot her and be done with it?”

“No, a public trial of someone like Jane can be useful for
reminding people of an important truth.”

“Truth?
What truth?”

“You can’t fight the future.”

“If you’re the future, I don’t want to live in it.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling. “You won’t.”

Hobbes stood up and called the soldier who had given me the
water. This man took the strap from my ankles and then grabbed me by one arm
and hauled me to my feet. I thought my shoulder would pop out of the socket,
and I shouted, “Shit!” Then he pushed me forward, and I fell hard, landing on
my side in the mud. The man gave me a kick in the gut to knock the wind out of
me. Then he hauled me up again and dragged me along, stumbling and gasping,
until we got to the edge of a gully. At the bottom, a stream rushed past over
rocks.

“This is good,” Hobbes called out loud enough to be heard
over the stream. The man threw me down on the ground and stepped away. I looked
up and saw Hobbes holding a pistol.

Now like I said, I knew this would happen. I knew Hobbes he
would shoot me, and I accepted it. But it was still a strange thing to watch
the last moment of your life unfold. What I saw was a man, dressed in black,
standing in a beam of morning sunlight under a bright canopy of trees. He had a
smile on his face as he raised the pistol. I couldn’t hear anything, save my
gasps for air and the hissing roar of the stream behind me. It may sound
strange, but I didn’t bother to pray. I reckoned God had long since made up His
mind about me.

The shot hit Hobbes in the neck. A jet of blood flew out in
front of him, and he stumbled forward. The pistol fell from his hand as his
knees buckled. Hobbes pitched forward and hit the ground with his face.

The soldier and I were so surprised that we didn’t move. But
after a moment, he went for the pistol Hobbes had dropped. My hands were still
bound, and I was on my side. All I could do was kick his knee as he went past.
He cried out and stumbled. He still got the pistol, but I had slowed him down
enough for the next shot to find his chest.
Just left of
center.
The heart.
Pistol in hand, the soldier
stumbled backward until he went over the edge into the gully.

I lay on my side, breathing hard. I saw some brush pushed
aside. It was Riley. He went to Hobbes and kicked him, checking for signs of
life. I rolled on my belly so Riley could free my hands. Then he helped me up.
My legs shook, and I almost fell down.

“Can you travel?” Riley said.

“Can’t stay here.”

To make it harder for the soldiers to track us, we went down
into the gully and moved upstream for a while before cutting into the woods. We
kept going until dark and never saw any sign the soldiers were after us. Then
we hid in an old tumbledown house.

Sitting in the dark, he told me that he was on rear guard,
walking well behind us when the ambush hit. By the time he got close, it was
over. He figured we were all dead until he saw a couple soldiers dragging me
away. So he hid nearby and waited for a chance.

“Nice shooting,” I said. “You got the first one right
through the neck. You remember him?”

“Hobbes.
Should’ve killed that bastard
back when.”

“Better late than never.”

Riley was quiet, but I knew his next question.

“They took Jane alive,” I said. “I saw it. Hobbes told me
they were going to put her on trial.”

“Where’d they take her?”

“Don’t know. Hobbes didn’t say. Maybe he didn’t know.”

“You get some rest,” Riley said. “I’ll keep watch. We’ll
figure out what to do in the morning.”

“Yeah.
Thanks.”

I used Riley’s bedroll and lay down. I knew I needed to
sleep, but I couldn’t let myself go. I just lay there and remembered it all,
again and again. I remembered one thing I hadn’t told Riley.

It was when Jane caught sight of me, struggling to my feet,
trying to get to her. She had managed to shout something while shaking her
head. But I couldn’t hear. I went over that moment again and again in my
memory. I watched her lips move and tried to understand what she was trying to
tell me.

Then I realized what it was. She had shouted, “No!”

She hadn’t wanted me to help her.

I wouldn’t tell Riley this.

I wouldn’t tell anyone.

I would get her back.

“No!” Campbell
shouted, slamming his hand down on the table. “Now get the hell out of this
camp!”

Riley and I stood on the other side of the table. Through
the window, I could see men outside stopping to look, wondering about the
shouting.

“All right, Colonel,” I said. “We’ll get! But God damn you,
and God damn Charles fucking Winslow, for not helping Jane.”

“Amen!” Riley said.

“I ought to have you two shot for desertion,” shouted Campbell.
He leaned across the table, glaring at us.

We glared back.

Then he winked.

Confused, I looked at Riley. Just as confused, Riley looked
back at me.

Campbell
shouted, “Lieutenant
Penland
! Get these two out of
here.
Now!”
Campbell
turned away, done with us.

Soon we were out of the camp and in the woods, heading down
the same path we had so often climbed with Jane.

“What do we do now?” I said to Riley.

“Don’t know,” he said.

We kept walking until it started getting dark. Then we
stopped to build a fire.

It had taken a week for us to get to Campbell.
In that time, Jane could’ve been taken anywhere in government territory. Riley
and I had no way of knowing. We thought Campbell
might know where she was, or how to get the Government to let her go. We
thought he would want to help Jane. Instead, he turned us down flat.

Then he winked at us.

“What was that wink about?” Riley said.

“Don’t know.”

We fell silent. Riley may have been thinking about what we
should do, but I was remembering: A soldier pulling the rifle from Jane’s
hands, another dragging her away. Then the rifle butt coming toward my head--

A sound of movement out in the dark.
Riley grabbed his rifle, and I picked up a big stick as a club.

A voice called out, “Don’t shoot. Campbell
sent me.”

Campbell
?
I thought.

“Come on then. Slow,” Riley said.

A man came out of the darkness into the fire light. His
hands were up. He had a canvas bag in one hand and a bedroll in the other.

When he got closer, I recognized him. It was Lieutenant
Penland
, who had taken us out of camp.

“Campbell sent
you?” I said.

“Yeah,”
Penland
said. “He wants to
help.”

“Then why the fuck didn’t he say so?” I said.

“Politics,”
Penland
said. “Jane
tried to wreck the treaty with the Government. Besides, Winslow’s afraid she
wanted his job. So he won’t do a thing for her.”

“That sumbitch,” Riley said. “She saved his ass.”

Penland
nodded. “Campbell agrees.
But if he does anything to help Jane, Winslow will make Jackson
his Chief of Staff, and Jane will get no help at all.”

“So that explains the wink,” I said.

“Wink?”
Penland
said.

“Never mind,” Riley said. “How’s Campbell
gonna help?”

“Jane’s in Asheville,”
Penland
said. He pulled out an old map from inside
his coat and showed us. South of the city, there was a big green area
surrounding something marked ‘Biltmore House.’
Penland
said, “Way before the Plague a rich man built a big house there, a kind of
palace. The Government took it over.”

“How do you know Jane’s there?” I said.

“That’s what the Government is saying on their radio
broadcasts,” he said

“What else do they say?” I said.

“They’re going to try her for murder, terrorism, and other
things. Sometimes, they talk about how crazy she is because she talks to God.
And they say she refuses to confess. ‘Remains defiant,’ is what they say.”

“
‘Remains
defiant,’” Riley said.
“That’s Jane.”

“If we know where she is,” I said, “how do we get her out?”

“We don’t know,”
Penland
said.
“But there’s a group fighting the Government. It’s called the Underground.
We’ve had contact with them for a while, and they might want to help.”

“What’ll they do?” Riley said.

“They might give you a place to hide, food, information. But
more than that . . .”
Penland
shrugged.

“How do we find them?” I said.

Penland
told us to go to a
particular house after dark. He showed it to us on the map. One of us should go
to the door, say his name was Watson, and that he was looking for Holmes.

“Watson looking for Holmes,” I said.
“A
code?”

“Yeah.
If they say nobody named
Holmes is there, it’s not safe. Get away.”

“What do we do then?” Riley said.

“You’re on your own. That’s our only way to get in contact
with them.”

Riley let out a low whistle. We were climbing pretty far up
a shaky tree.

Penland
gave us the map and the
canvas bag, which held two pistols, extra ammunition, and some food. He handed
me the bedroll and said, “Campbell
noticed you didn’t have one of these.”

“Thank him for me,” I said.

“One last thing,”
Penland
said.
“I’m sorry, but if you get caught, Campbell
will deny you got help from us.”

“The Colonel shouldn’t worry,” Riley said. “They’ll likely
shoot us without much fuss.”

“Please thank him for everything,” I said.

Penland
nodded. “I’ll pray for
you.” He shook hands with us and walked away, back toward the camp.

Riley and I spent some time checking the pistols and looking
at the map. Then we sat, gazing into the fire.

“How in the world are we gonna do this?” I said.

“What was it Jane used to say? ‘If it’s God’s will, He’ll
make a way. I just have to be ready.’”

“Are you ready?”

He smiled. “Ready? I was born ready.” It was an old joke.

“No, for real.
Their
headquarters.
The belly of the beast.”

His smile went away.
“Can’t see any way
around it.”

We were quiet for a bit.

“You know,” I said, “I feel bad
cause
I got you into this.”

“Got me into this?”

“Yeah, back at the beginning. The Captain told me I’d need
another man. I picked you.”

He laughed. “Sure, you got me into this. But I got you back
into it. Even went to get you. Remember?”

I shrugged. He had a point.

“So I reckon we’re even,” he said.

“Yeah.
Reckon so.”

We sat and watched until the fire burned down to embers.