[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
And one last thing, Mike. I'll remind you again: if you go, Burley might
simply execute you after he's gotten whatever information he wants from you.
He wouldn't do that to a woman." Never mind what he would do! Wanda remembered
her refusal to submit to the colonel when that would have saved her career.
What a turnabout. Now she was almost hoping for the same thing to happen in
reverse!
Michael found no way to argue with her logic. Except -- "Wait! Suppose
that one con we know escaped doesn't make it back to Huntsville. That would
mean no expedition back to Livingston!"
"So what? You still plan on trying to rescue the girls and the blacks
and what other people Burley's cons have gathered up, don't you? It doesn't
change a thing. Someone still needs to cause trouble in his rear before any
chance we take will succeed."
Michael looked around him. They were still encamped on the riverbank.
What he saw finally convinced him: a gang of women, fewer than two dozen,
armed with shotguns they barely knew how to use. They, with Breedlove's meager
contingent, if they made it to Livingston in time, would made up his whole
fighting force, and there were no others to draw on. His shoulders slumped in
defeat. He tried to push the image of Dawson Reeves' assault on Sheila out of
his mind, but it kept coming back, only now the scene in his memory was
insisting on replacing Sheila with Wanda, helpless beneath a slavering
miscreant.
Wanda gathered his suddenly pale body to her and hugged him fiercely.
"Please, Mike, please don't get weak now. I'm scared half out of my wits. I'm
going to be depending on you to get me out of this fix I'm going into. And
let's face it: everyone will take orders from you; they might not from me."
Michael drew in a deep breath. He stepped back and held Wanda by her
upper arms. Their eyes met and locked. "Come on then, you idiot, and let's go
see Whitney. You're going to have to get your stories straight before you
leave, and God help him if he's lying." Arm in arm, they walked back to the
waiting group.
"CAN'T WE DO anything?" Judy asked. She had no more tears left to shed
and was beginning to talk again.
McMasters answered as honestly as he could. "We can't attack the whole
Walls unit by ourselves. The only thing I know to do now is to search for more
help. We've found some people; maybe we can find others."
McMasters was still despondent over his failure to rescue Judy's
companions and her mother. He felt totally responsible, even though he had
done everything that came to mind. An old mind, though, maybe too old.
And the young girl was beginning to look at him in an odd way, a
scrutiny that tugged at past memories like a just discovered photograph from
his youth might have done. He recognized the phenomena. It was common for
homeless women in a war zone. They sought out the strongest male they could
find and attached themselves to him, mentally and physically, letting buried
instincts surface and direct their actions. Before too long he would have to
start thinking of how to deal with it. Young people were always impatient.
"Where do you think we'll find some other people?" Judy asked. The
thought bothered her in a way she didn't understand at all. Right now, she
wanted to just stay close to Cecil. She felt safe in his presence.
"All I can tell you is that the further east we've been, the more
people we've seen. Maybe around Livingston. That's on the other side of the
Trinity; maybe the cons won't think of crossing it. I'm sorry, hon. I did the
best I could. Maybe those bastards will at least think a little before they
try rape again. They can't know that I'm not watching."
Judy had to be satisfied with that. At least, the last view she had had
of her mother was that of her gathering her clothes. Maybe the convicts would
think before they tried anything with their captives again. She could hope,
anyway.
IT TOOK ALL the influence Jason could muster to prevent a mass rape of
the teenage girls when they were brought within the confines of the Walls.
Even then, he might not have been able to prevent it had Whitney and Wanda not
coincidentally arrived right afterwards. Surprisingly, they had gotten back to
the former prison before the sole survivor of the battle by the river, but
just barely. While Whitney was still describing the carnage to Burley and
Jason, including his fiction of capturing Wanda, the other con made his
appearance and added his story to theirs.
Burley was so furious at the tale of their defeat that he had the
convict who had run stripped of his weapon and confined with the black slaves.
Jason grinned inwardly, but didn't let it show. All Burley was doing was
diluting his strength.
It wasn't all good, though. As soon as Burley heard about the Wal-Mart
and other stores at Livingston, he decided to move everyone there. He reasoned
that if he moved them all, he would have enough strength to overcome any
opposition. Besides, supplies in Huntsville were getting low. Jason couldn't
argue.
Organizing and getting the move underway would keep everyone occupied
and give him a chance to get Whitney alone. He sensed that Whitney was holding
something back, but didn't dare bring it up in front of Burley. And there was
something else. The woman he had brought back with him had, when all eyes were
on Whitney, winked at him, closing one eye slowly, then raising the lashes of
that eye as if she wanted to give him a message. There was a meaning there, if
only he could find out what it was.
"Jason, you're the organizer. Why don't you get started with plans for
the move?" Burley said in an unusually pleasant tone of voice.
"What are you going to be doing?"
"I think I need to talk to this little lady and see exactly what she's
been doing since the change. According to Whit, it was nothing but ladies that
ambushed us at the river, but I want to be sure. OK?"
Jason nodded slowly. He didn't have much of a basis for argument. "All
right, but remember what I said. We'll all be better off in the long run if we
try to act half way human. Ammunition and supplies won't last forever.
Sometime soon, we're going to have to plan on forming a society of some sort
and make long range plans." He eyed the cons jostling and bantering for a
closer look at the teenage girls who had just arrived. He turned away from
Burley and closed his eyes in momentary sorrow. He knew there was no way he
could prevent some rape occurring before the day was over, particularly among
the young black women. Too many of the cons, encouraged by Burley's cohorts,
had already begun thinking of blacks as if they were a subspecies, much in the
way southerners had well over a century ago.
"Yeah, I heard you say that already. We'll see. Right now I got some
business to take care of." Burley nudged Wanda toward the office he had
appropriated with the barrel of his shotgun. He shoved her inside and then
turned to Jason. "Just remember: we ain't having no blacks in your so-called
society, and if the women don't come around soon, the boys will get too
impatient to wait. Get me?" Without waiting for an answer, he entered the
office and closed the door.
Wanda thought Burley had the coldest eyes she had ever seen. Like a
snake, she thought, perpetually coiled and ready to strike at the slightest [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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And one last thing, Mike. I'll remind you again: if you go, Burley might
simply execute you after he's gotten whatever information he wants from you.
He wouldn't do that to a woman." Never mind what he would do! Wanda remembered
her refusal to submit to the colonel when that would have saved her career.
What a turnabout. Now she was almost hoping for the same thing to happen in
reverse!
Michael found no way to argue with her logic. Except -- "Wait! Suppose
that one con we know escaped doesn't make it back to Huntsville. That would
mean no expedition back to Livingston!"
"So what? You still plan on trying to rescue the girls and the blacks
and what other people Burley's cons have gathered up, don't you? It doesn't
change a thing. Someone still needs to cause trouble in his rear before any
chance we take will succeed."
Michael looked around him. They were still encamped on the riverbank.
What he saw finally convinced him: a gang of women, fewer than two dozen,
armed with shotguns they barely knew how to use. They, with Breedlove's meager
contingent, if they made it to Livingston in time, would made up his whole
fighting force, and there were no others to draw on. His shoulders slumped in
defeat. He tried to push the image of Dawson Reeves' assault on Sheila out of
his mind, but it kept coming back, only now the scene in his memory was
insisting on replacing Sheila with Wanda, helpless beneath a slavering
miscreant.
Wanda gathered his suddenly pale body to her and hugged him fiercely.
"Please, Mike, please don't get weak now. I'm scared half out of my wits. I'm
going to be depending on you to get me out of this fix I'm going into. And
let's face it: everyone will take orders from you; they might not from me."
Michael drew in a deep breath. He stepped back and held Wanda by her
upper arms. Their eyes met and locked. "Come on then, you idiot, and let's go
see Whitney. You're going to have to get your stories straight before you
leave, and God help him if he's lying." Arm in arm, they walked back to the
waiting group.
"CAN'T WE DO anything?" Judy asked. She had no more tears left to shed
and was beginning to talk again.
McMasters answered as honestly as he could. "We can't attack the whole
Walls unit by ourselves. The only thing I know to do now is to search for more
help. We've found some people; maybe we can find others."
McMasters was still despondent over his failure to rescue Judy's
companions and her mother. He felt totally responsible, even though he had
done everything that came to mind. An old mind, though, maybe too old.
And the young girl was beginning to look at him in an odd way, a
scrutiny that tugged at past memories like a just discovered photograph from
his youth might have done. He recognized the phenomena. It was common for
homeless women in a war zone. They sought out the strongest male they could
find and attached themselves to him, mentally and physically, letting buried
instincts surface and direct their actions. Before too long he would have to
start thinking of how to deal with it. Young people were always impatient.
"Where do you think we'll find some other people?" Judy asked. The
thought bothered her in a way she didn't understand at all. Right now, she
wanted to just stay close to Cecil. She felt safe in his presence.
"All I can tell you is that the further east we've been, the more
people we've seen. Maybe around Livingston. That's on the other side of the
Trinity; maybe the cons won't think of crossing it. I'm sorry, hon. I did the
best I could. Maybe those bastards will at least think a little before they
try rape again. They can't know that I'm not watching."
Judy had to be satisfied with that. At least, the last view she had had
of her mother was that of her gathering her clothes. Maybe the convicts would
think before they tried anything with their captives again. She could hope,
anyway.
IT TOOK ALL the influence Jason could muster to prevent a mass rape of
the teenage girls when they were brought within the confines of the Walls.
Even then, he might not have been able to prevent it had Whitney and Wanda not
coincidentally arrived right afterwards. Surprisingly, they had gotten back to
the former prison before the sole survivor of the battle by the river, but
just barely. While Whitney was still describing the carnage to Burley and
Jason, including his fiction of capturing Wanda, the other con made his
appearance and added his story to theirs.
Burley was so furious at the tale of their defeat that he had the
convict who had run stripped of his weapon and confined with the black slaves.
Jason grinned inwardly, but didn't let it show. All Burley was doing was
diluting his strength.
It wasn't all good, though. As soon as Burley heard about the Wal-Mart
and other stores at Livingston, he decided to move everyone there. He reasoned
that if he moved them all, he would have enough strength to overcome any
opposition. Besides, supplies in Huntsville were getting low. Jason couldn't
argue.
Organizing and getting the move underway would keep everyone occupied
and give him a chance to get Whitney alone. He sensed that Whitney was holding
something back, but didn't dare bring it up in front of Burley. And there was
something else. The woman he had brought back with him had, when all eyes were
on Whitney, winked at him, closing one eye slowly, then raising the lashes of
that eye as if she wanted to give him a message. There was a meaning there, if
only he could find out what it was.
"Jason, you're the organizer. Why don't you get started with plans for
the move?" Burley said in an unusually pleasant tone of voice.
"What are you going to be doing?"
"I think I need to talk to this little lady and see exactly what she's
been doing since the change. According to Whit, it was nothing but ladies that
ambushed us at the river, but I want to be sure. OK?"
Jason nodded slowly. He didn't have much of a basis for argument. "All
right, but remember what I said. We'll all be better off in the long run if we
try to act half way human. Ammunition and supplies won't last forever.
Sometime soon, we're going to have to plan on forming a society of some sort
and make long range plans." He eyed the cons jostling and bantering for a
closer look at the teenage girls who had just arrived. He turned away from
Burley and closed his eyes in momentary sorrow. He knew there was no way he
could prevent some rape occurring before the day was over, particularly among
the young black women. Too many of the cons, encouraged by Burley's cohorts,
had already begun thinking of blacks as if they were a subspecies, much in the
way southerners had well over a century ago.
"Yeah, I heard you say that already. We'll see. Right now I got some
business to take care of." Burley nudged Wanda toward the office he had
appropriated with the barrel of his shotgun. He shoved her inside and then
turned to Jason. "Just remember: we ain't having no blacks in your so-called
society, and if the women don't come around soon, the boys will get too
impatient to wait. Get me?" Without waiting for an answer, he entered the
office and closed the door.
Wanda thought Burley had the coldest eyes she had ever seen. Like a
snake, she thought, perpetually coiled and ready to strike at the slightest [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]