Avalon: The Retreat (31 page)

“This circle is your target,” she looked up at the boys to make sure they understood her.

Then she drew the letter “U” just below the circle and said,

“This is the rear sight on the pistols and rifles.” All eyes were on her. “Can everyone see that?”

Then she drew a double line inside of the “U” and connected the two vertical lines with a small bar at the top of them.

“This represents the front sight on the weapons; notice that the distance between the two sides is the same and the circle sits on top of the sights. When you sight in on a target take a breath, hold it, and place the sights on the target just like this drawing. Squeeze the trigger slowly and when your weapon fires it should be a surprise. If you squeeze it quickly, you will jerk the rifle and miss what you’re aiming at; any questions?”

Many of them nodded to show they understood.

“To help you shoot straight, steady your rifle on the ground, against a tree, or resting on anything that’s solid. It will help keep it from weaving around. You must have the sights on your target if you expect to hit it.”

She had little to validate that they “got it” other than to have them repeat it all back to her. “Okay Tom, go over what I said.”

They listened to him as he gave it back nearly word for word.

“Very good, now you do the same.” They all repeated what she said until she was satisfied that they understood. It was imperative that they did because their lives, and hers it seemed, could very well depend on it.

“Okay boys, one last thing. We don’t have tons of bullets so every shot must be a good one; if you miss it could be the cause of one or all of us dying. If you do it the way I just showed you, you’re going to do just fine. We have to make every shot fired count, understand?”

She looked over at the youngster, who was an NRA member and asked him directly, “What was your best shot?”

“Excuse me?” he asked, a bit surprised that his score would matter at this point and not fully understanding where she was coming from.

“How far was the best shot you ever fired?” She reworded the question.

A look of understanding came on his face and he said without hesitation, “Three hundred yards.”

“You aren’t lying to me, are you?” Beth had to be sure. “This isn’t the time for showing off.”

“No Ma’am,” he replied, with eyes annoyed at the thought of being doubted. “I got a trophy and everything.”

“Okay, you will be the group’s sniper. Are you afraid to kill someone?”

“If it’s a Slaver,” he nearly spat it out, “I have no problem.”

“What’s your name?” Beth asked, realizing that “sniper” probably wasn’t a valid name.

“Jasper, ma’am,” he said in a very polite manner, extending his neck a bit as his name rolled out, “Jasper Smith.”

She believed he had made the shot because he said it with a conviction that was unmistakable. She turned to the others, looked each one in the eye, and asked them the same question… and they all had a hard look as they nodded their heads.

“You have to be sure boys” This was a time that called for unadulterated honesty. “This isn’t a game; it is all about whether any of us will live or die after the dust settles.”

She looked at them and was satisfied they would be able to shoot if necessary. They would be tested for real if and when the time came.

She knew an agent who was a boastful kind of guy and always talked about if and when the time came to face off with a bad guy, and to listen to him tell the story, he was all heroes rolled up into one man. He was shot in the head during the first firefight because he hesitated, even though he had the advantage of the draw.

So much for the big mouth hero.

They didn’t have long to wait to test their skills. As they continued through the small valley following the old creek, they came to an opening and dead ahead was a camp of Slavers with tents set up and motorcycles parked all over the place. Some of them were riding in circles and shooting guns into the air. Dust was spreading into the air resembling an explosion.

They were screaming and yelling and just having a great time. Off to one side below some small trees were captives tied to a rope that stretched between two of the sturdier trees. They looked pitiful, gaunt, dirty, and listless, as if the energy inside of each of them was gone. There were three men and four women. There were no children in sight.

Beth backed away a few hundred yards and the group waited until it was dark and until she had discussed the plan with the older, armed boys. They would sneak in and see what they could do for the captives and retrieve the food, if there was any. They were to be sharp; no talking and no noise. Each boy not only had a sidearm, but also a rifle or shotgun and a sheath knife. In addition, she gave each boy three sticks of dynamite and several matches out of her precious little stockpile. The younger children were sent further back and away from harm. On her command the boys moved slowly toward the camp, crouched over. She placed Jasper in the middle and behind her.

The camp was well lit with flares tied to poles and burning with an evil-looking, malevolent red glow. The whole camp flickered with red shadows and the smell of sulfur. Three boys went right, three went left, and Beth would come from straight on. She looked to see where her boys were and was satisfied with their positions. Jasper lay on the ground and spread his legs apart wide as he was taught to do and steadied himself for the first shot.

She lit the fuse of one stick and counted to ten by saying one thousand, two thousand… and tossed the first stick next to the largest of the tents. It went off with a deafening explosion. It even surprised her how loud it was and dirt rained down over her. There were several Slavers standing by one of the campfires and they were thrown up into the air and then back down to the ground. Others heard the first shots and as the Slavers stood up they fell right back down.

Several came out of the other tents and a second stick was thrown close by. Another huge explosion threw them into the air and Beth wasn’t sure, but it looked like a lot of pieces of them were flying around. The explosion and the subsequent shock wave hit her and it felt as if someone had slammed her with a hard pillow. She discovered her nose was bleeding and thought she might have a concussion from the blast.

Shots were being fired but she couldn’t tell from where they were coming, then she saw the shooter. He was off to the side of the camp with a shotgun and was firing wildly at shadows. She took careful aim and squeezed the trigger; he went down. Another Slaver was shooting wildly at anything that seemed to move and she took aim but before she could fire, a shot rang out and he spun around and went down.

It was Jasper taking care of business. She felt so proud of those boys, she could hardly stand it. They were good shooters after all and true to their word about being able to kill when necessary. A Slaver came up behind her without her being aware and grabbed her; she tried to get to her knife but could not reach it. A shot rang out and he went down in a crumpled pile. It was Tom Wyatt and he waved at her. Several more Slavers jumped on their dirt bikes, kick-started them, and took off. She fired at one and it looked like she got him, but he didn’t fall and instead rode off leaving behind a trail of dust.

Beth went over to the rope tether and let the hostages go. They were so undernourished they hardly knew they were free. One man thanked her and said,

“Come here, I want to show you something.”

She followed him and off to one side of the camp was a pile of bones. All small bones of children, more than thirty of them. It was too much for her and she bent over and vomited. The boys came to her side and one of them rubbed her back. Just when she thought it was over, she convulsed and retched some more.

The entire camp was on fire and dead bodies were lying all over the ground. Many of the Slavers had limbs blown off and they had lots of side arms on them. Once Beth recovered, she had the boys go around and collect all the food, weapons, and water.

“If you see any clothing and blankets or anything else of value, take those too.”

Beth picked up a shotgun that was lying on the ground and checked to see if it was still loaded. In the eerie red light from the torches all around the camp, she saw a Slaver laying there with a leg blown off. As he begged her for mercy, she blew his head off with a blast of the shotgun. The boys cut the throats of those who appeared to still be alive and left them there for the bugs and birds to pick their bones.

During a search of the Slavers, Beth found a map and spread it out on the rock before her so she could study it in detail. As best she could determine, Bishop was off to the right about fifteen miles from this spot, which is how she had planned it. Approaching Bishop to the left was safer than coming at it head on.

She saw a road that led from Bishop over to the coast, but it bore straight into a small town by the name of Fitch. The road continued toward the west, bypassing Fitch and then split in three directions according to what she could see.

Another stretch of the highway went south toward Chico and one more bore right and headed north toward Mount Shasta. It was an interesting intersection. There must have been a reason for Fitch being located there. As far as she could tell, it was a small town of no particular significance. As in her approach to Bishop, she wanted to side-step this little town, if at all possible. If her memory served her correctly, the old railroad track bed was somewhere over to the left of Fitch but did not show up on the map.

There was plenty of food from the ambush, and the children and captives were eating as she came over to them and sat down. Glory offered her a tin can full of pork and beans and she accepted, realizing just how hungry she was. Tom Wyatt strolled over to her carrying a pair of binoculars in his hand. He stopped in front of her, handed her the field glasses, and smiled. She took them and examined them for a moment.

They were great glasses… 8x50 zoom with “wide vision,” whatever that meant! They looked new, hardly used at all. She put them up to her eyes to try them out, and off in the distance, she saw a tree standing alone. As she focused the lenses, first one and then the small slider that brought the two sides together into sharp focus, she shifted the zoom slider and everything came toward her.

“These are going to come in handy.”

She spoke the words to no one in particular, just a comment of admiration… and then she saw the movement. It was subtle but he was there, a man on a dirt bike near a rock. He had a pair of binoculars and was looking at her group. He let the glasses rest against his chest and the bike began to move toward Bishop. The man was studying her and the children and that could mean trouble. They needed to get moving before he could come back with reinforcements. They were no match for armed men. They were just children after all.

“Everybody!” She was talking in a loud voice, but not screaming. “Listen to me!”

They all looked at her and when she thought they were paying attention, Beth continued, “We may be in for company. I want everyone to gather up their things and form a group over there.” She pointed to the place where she wanted them to gather. “We’ll be leaving this place in a little while.”

They stirred at her request to move, though some still ran in play, not fully aware of their circumstances. One of the captives came toward her and she studied him as he walked. She remained seated as he approached.

“Hi, I guess I should introduce myself, I’m Doctor Len Stroud.”

“Are you a medical doctor?”

“No, I’m a dentist. That is, I was before the war.”

“You’re still a dentist, Doctor Stroud.”

“Please, it’s Len.”

“Okay, Len it is. I’m Beth Kelly; it’s nice to meet you.”

He smiled and she saw that his teeth were perfect. She guessed it was one of the perks of being a dentist. Regardless, the man had a nice smile and he was tall and slender and not bad to look at. He seemed nice enough and when they shook hands, she noticed he had a firm grip.

“What’s your plan?” he asked. As he waited for an answer, she thought for a brief time and responded casually,

“Just a minute ago when I was testing out these new field glasses, I saw a man on a dirt bike. I’m positive Slavers are watching us. I wouldn’t be surprised if they don’t try an attack, especially once they realize we’re mostly children.”

He looked to where she had indicated with the movement of her head and squinted his eyes but didn’t see anything.

“He’s gone,” she surmised. “He moved out just after I saw him. Do you have any military training?”

He smiled at her, showing those perfect teeth again, and said,

“Sergeant Leonard Stroud at your service, ma’am. U.S. Army Airborne.”

That was a stroke of luck. He saw the question in her eyes and followed up by saying,