THE KILLER ANGEL : Book Three "Journey" (THE KILLER ANGEL TRILOGY 3) (16 page)

Mercy...he wanted mercy. I slowly reached for a pistol, then stopped and walked away. As the sounds of violence grew to a crescendo behind me, I knew that justice was being done and that the brute would not live long, at least not as a human. He would harm no more.

The commotion brought others to the location. Several rifle shots followed and all was then silent.

The evening was spent in muted conversation. Although there was much joy at the reunion, and many stories to tell, there had also been much trauma,
suffering and sorrow along the way. Certainly, I felt no inclination to celebrate. My psyche would require days, perhaps as much as a week, to recover; but I would recover, this much I knew. There was too much at stake, and I was needed by too many to allow myself to be disabled. Still, healing takes time, even for me.

The former prisoners recounted their various trials and losses. I was impressed with their resilience, and further reminded of the evil depths to which men can descend. Without any doubts whatsoever, if I ever had any, my decision to intervene there was the correct one. One day, perhaps, this success would offset the tragedy of my failures. I had wiped out a viper pit, and maybe now these people could rebuild their lives unmolested, although the chain of slaver connections would mean that unyielding vigilance would always be necessary.

Following introductions and displays of tearful gratitude, I reacquired my weapons and relaxed in the company of my new friends. These were fine people, noble and true, with a dedication to doing what was right.

My part in the day’s events was recounted and embellished by Mannat and her friends so many times that I could not help but blush at their effusive sincerity. Of course, my cheek scar revealed itself brightly in the firelight, much to the polite amusement of everyone present, something to which I had grown accustomed. It had become a trademark, of sorts, that survivors wanted to see when they met me.

The following morning, Mannat’s people began the process of clearing the site, which had become their custom. Most bodies would be burned with little ceremony, but a few would be buried.

At my request, the first to receive traditional treatment were the Beauchamp brothers. Indeed, as I had imagined, those fine, adventurous boys had tried to be heroes and to rescue those in dire distress, but Lou and Josh Beauchamp were neither trained nor experienced in fighting armed opponents of any kind, and were terribly ill equipped to stand up to a small army of ruthless criminals. They had absolutely no chance of success, but their youthful minds caused them to view themselves as invincible. Tragically, victory was never theirs for the taking, but visions of glory and heroic deeds blinded them to this very obvious fact.

I never desired nor sought out glory; but it found me, nonetheless
.

Before taking my leave of Mannat and her family, I said a private farewell to my two valorous knights, and pinned one of my gloves to each of the carefully constructed crosses above the fresh, moist dirt of their graves. I stood before the disturbed earth and looked up to the sky, closing my eyes, pushing back tears, and calming the ever-present rage that boiled within.

Eventually, I felt concerned glances upon my still
form, but there was no interruption. Lowering my head, I opened my eyes again to the reality before me. I will never forget those two boys.

I felt so old
...

I made known to my new friends that I was departing immediately via my day-sailer, but as I was concluding my farewells, Mannat and two young men stepped forward, loaded with equipment, announcing their intention to join me on my journey.

In spite of the tragic events that they had recently witnessed, they still had that gleam in their eyes, the glow of epic adventure and exploration.

If they only knew the truth
...

Of course, I firmly declined, much to their chagrin, but no doubt to the great relief of other friends and family members who were present.

Some might fault me for being too stern in my rejection, as I did not smile, nor did I explain, but this growing inclination of others to seek excitement and glory at my side had to be strongly dissuaded, even if it meant hurting feelings and turning my image to sourness. If I could in any way prevent it, there would never be another Rachel Chase, or Lou or Josh Beauchamp, to further haunt my already agonizing dreams.

Chapter Nine

“South”

B
EN AND I made excellent time in our small boat, encountering few obstructions to hinder progress, and only occasionally disembarking to gather supplies.

Eventually, the Missouri flowed into the Mississippi. Our nights were spent on the craft far from shore, usually tied to some object in the water, since I would not endanger our journey with river travel in darkness. Many solar charged lights on the river still functioned, and they offered the comfortable feeling that civilization still existed, but that light was far from sufficient to permit safe navigation.

In the still darkness, I would lay back against the wooden deck with Ben warming my side, and look up at the stars, pondering our future. It would take time to rebuild this world, but hopefully we would make it a better civilization for all. Even then, I knew that I had become an important part of a new beginning; that my persona had become much larger than I was as a human being, but I understood that this was the benefit - or
curse – of celebrity. Brick and I sometimes discussed the value of this fame. I had determined and pledged myself to guard that reputation for the good that it could do.

Whether or not I liked it, through sometimes overly magnified reputation, and hopefully always positive inspiration, others would indeed emulate my actions and philosophies, or perhaps rebel against them – it’s human nature. Nevertheless, as much as I could control it, I remained resolute that my impact would always be positive. Nobility, grace, courage, resourcefulness, determination, selflessness...these would be important traits of a reborn civilization, and I would do my best to represent that future.

If ever I fretted over this unexpected power, Brick would display his knowing, ever-wise smile, and admonish me to remember that I did not simply play at being “Nicki Redstone”, but that I was, in fact, THE “Nicki Redstone”, and that it was beyond me to be anything less.

Ahh, Brick Charbonneau, tu me manques mon grand ami
.

Baton Rouge was my river objective, since it was there that I would terminate water travel and head east. New Orleans might have seemed a good choice, being a little closer to my destination, but I recalled that there
were significant bridges in the area that would be essential to my journey. The conditions of those bridges were unknown to me, and I could not risk any major delay that their absence might cause. Of course, traveling by sea to the Florida coast would have been more efficient, but I was not confident enough in my sailing skills to take on the ocean and the various currents that would be in play at river and gulf coast junctions.

I estimated that two months would be required to make that water journey. I fretted about losing my physical and mental edge in that time, so, in addition to nourishment provisions, along the way I picked up a variety of exercise devices and weights – pretty much everything that I could think of to keep myself fit. I also collected an array of educational books and battery powered video players, along with a wide variety of DVD’s, both for training and entertainment - language (French, of course), navigation, survival, boating, etc. New gloves were easily acquired - armored, of course.

Whenever I felt the need to dock my craft, I consistently sought out a harbor that had a high, open stairway near my landing. Stairs provided the much needed intense exercise that my body craved. If the conditions were suitable, I would work out until I was a soaking, panting mess.
Perfect!

On occasion, I have been asked if I was afraid when landing alone at new locations. The flat and honest answer is “no”. I had been alone for far too long,
and had entered strange surroundings hundreds of times before, so I think it was impossible for such circumstances to raise any natural anxiety to the level of fear. Nevertheless, I never landed at any port that I deemed hazardous or sketchy in any way; plus, I was consistently vigilant in my reconnaissance, relying heavily on my own experience and Ben’s alert senses to minimize surprises.

I thoroughly understood runners and their repulsive tendencies, and did not fear their easy and instant agitation; but it was the living humans for whom I made my most careful observations. In general, I always expected and planned for runners; but for people, when I detected indications of their existence (which was usually easy), I moved on. This approach was safer for me, and offered fewer delays to my quest.

Thirty days into my river travel, I worked my craft around a bridge that had been partially blown, which left a smaller section of passable water. As I carefully guided my light sailer through the narrow passage, the power of that river was evident as it noisily surged against the broken bridge’s enormous remains.

All manner of debris was held fast in the twisted green metal and concrete, appearing something like a giant child’s mess, with boats, barges, smashed homes, trees and cars held in place by the turbulent flow. Yet,
there were no adults to tidy-up the place; perhaps there never would be.