The Storm: War's End, #1 Read online

  The baby’s screams triggered the mothering instinct and she could feel her breasts fill painfully in response. Somehow Jess let go of her friend’s limp and lifeless hand and stood up. She couldn’t stay in this room. She made her way to the front porch, her shrieks turned to deep, racking sobs and finally to a half-hearted humming as she tried to calm her screaming son.

  Out of the room, it didn’t seem real. Erin couldn’t be gone. Not after all they had been through. They had survived the troops taking their town. They had survived Tent 5 and the months afterwards in the cabin in the woods. They had made the long trek to Clinton and avoided the soldiers and the gunfire. And now, on their way home, to die like this? It couldn’t be. Night had descended and there were few stars, just inky shadows.

  David reappeared with Tina, dragging most of their supplies and equipment, and his voice was cracked, wounded, when he spoke, “There’s a big tree, not too far away. We could stay there for tonight, Jess. It’s away from the house, in case others come. What do you think?”

  When Jess answered she could barely manage a whisper from her raw throat, “Yeah. Okay, lead the way.”

  It wasn’t far to walk. They stumbled in the dark to the tree, pulled their blankets close to each other and lay down on the hard ground. Jess felt the boy snuggle his back into hers, Tina wrapped in his arms and Jacob in hers. There was some comfort to feeling him wedged against her and needing reassurance. Quincy curled against her legs, whining softly.

  “We’ll bury her in the morning and move on, in case there’s more of ‘em.”

  Out of the dark came his response, “’Kay.”

  The Peace of Earth

  “I love the warm months. When the memories come, when my heart breaks just thinking of those I have lost, I go out into the garden. I pull up grass and weeds and train the vines. I dig deep in the rich earth. It brings me comfort and soothes the hurt. Each year is a miracle, each day and week and month that passes is a song of triumph. We rise again, we survive, and I can feel life in each handful of dirt I move.” – Jess’s Journal

  Jess lay on a pad from the porch swing, a thin blanket over her. Jacob was cuddled close. He was asleep, having fussed and cried a good part of the night. She wasn’t much better off. Her dreams had been bloody and violent.

  The world seemed full of death and despair, despite the sun and the birds chirping. Signs of life and growth surrounded her. It felt like a slap in the face. How dare the world be so beautiful, right here, when only a few hundred feet away Erin’s lifeless body lay? She had managed to dig down several feet before the sun climbed high in the sky. She collapsed on the ground to rest and nursed Jacob.

  David had scrounged a late breakfast, discovering several woody radishes and asparagus stalks in the old garden and supplementing them with a precious can of beef stew. Jess hadn’t been hungry, but she sat up and ate what David handed her. The food tasted like sawdust. Erin was gone, but no matter how much that hurt, she wasn’t, and three young lives depended on her now. They needed her to stay strong.

  She swallowed mechanically, and sipped from the cup of tea David had passed to her. It was hot and he must have used the farmhouse stove. It probably ran on propane, this far out in the country. The kitchen was accessible without going through the front entry and living room where the soldier’s bodies lay, flies buzzing around them. There were mint leaves floating in the tea.

  As she peered down into the cup, David said, “I found some plants out in the garden. A big patch of mint, so I put ‘em in a cup and boiled some water.” Jess raised her eyebrows and sipped again. “It’s just those leaves and nothin’ else, but I like it. I picked a lot and put ‘em in one of the packs.”

  He looked away, back at the partially-dug hole and the sheet-draped body nearby. “I’ll dig for a while.”

  He didn’t want to tell her yet, but he knew he would have to soon. Before he had heated up the water in the kitchen he had gone through both soldier’s pockets. It had taken every bit of nerve he could manage. Hands shaking, he had collected weapons, gone through their packs and found extra ammunition and some cans of food. He had also found something else, something that changed everything and made him want to run screaming back to Clinton with Tina’s hand clutched in his. As much as he wished for the safe comfort of his hidey-hole, he knew Erin and Jess had been right. They couldn’t survive the winter there. So instead of running he held his tongue and dug deeply into the earth.

  The grave was dug by the time the sun was directly overhead in the sky. Jess had done two more stints, with David helping. She dug into the earth and cried, stopped, and then dug some more. Eventually it was deep enough and she hugged her friend to her, pulled her body into the open grave and then slowly climbed out. After that came the hardest part. She shoveled the dirt over Erin and slowly buried her friend deep in the ground. Quincy had let out a long, sad howl when the dirt began to cover Erin’s body. Then the pup had sunk down on the ground, tail curled up underneath her and ears flat and whined. By the time they had finished shoveling the dirt into place; Jess was shaking with exhaustion and grief. She had no more tears left in her and her head pounded in agony. A few feet away, Tina fanned Jacob as he slept and watched the process without speaking. She hadn’t spoken a word all day.

  Tears streaked and mingled with the dirt on David’s face as he pulled over a large rock. Despite his young age, the boy was strong. He shrugged off an offer of help from Jess. “I got it.” He heaved again and managed to set it upright at the head of the grave. Jess she felt a wave of pain and loss crash over her. After all they had been through; to lose Erin now seemed to be more than she could bear.

  Jess searched for the words to a familiar prayer. Her parents hadn’t been religious, they had never gone to church, but it seemed like there were special words you were supposed to say during moments like that. David and Tina both looked up at her expectantly. She dug in her memories and finally remembered the Lord’s Prayer.

  “Our father who art in heaven,” the words were reassuring somehow, although she couldn’t have explained why. Perhaps certain words, when said in the right sequence, had power.

  “Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done...”

  Could it be that they had power to bring peace, heal wounds, or renew hope? David’s voice chimed in and Tina tried to as well, but she didn’t know the words. “On earth as it is in heaven,” When they finished, the silence stretched for several long moments. Jess cleared her throat.

  “Erie, it doesn’t seem right leaving you here. I promise I’ll come back and put a better marker here as soon as I can.” She stopped, took a deep breath, “You saved my life too many times to count and I will miss you forever. Please forgive me for not being quicker. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.”

  It didn’t seem enough. It felt unfinished somehow. So she searched her memories and smiled as the tears slipped down her cheeks. The words flowed, as she spoke to the memory of her friend and their childhood adventures. She recalled all of the good memories, all the beauty and laughter they had shared. It took a while for Jess to say goodbye to a friend she had grown up with.

  When she was done, she placed her son in his sling, picked up what she could carry of their packs, turned toward the east and began to walk. David and Tina followed close behind and Quincy ran ahead. None of them said anything for a long time.

  A Lake Retreat

  “When David showed me the paper he had found I panicked. What if there were more men out there looking for us? I’ll never know how many they sent, or why they felt it was so important to get us back. All I knew was that the note listed descriptions of Erin and me, along with the names of our family and friends. They knew where we came from. And months after we escaped, they were still looking for us. Going home was suddenly a walk in the wrong direction.” – Jess’s journal

  David hesitated for several hours, then finally, when they stopped to rest and eat a bit of food, he got up the courage to show Jess the note
he had discovered on one of the bodies. The paper had been folded several times and was well-worn. But Jess and Erin’s names had both been on it, along with a physical description of each girl, and the town of Belton as their expected destination. The soldiers had been looking for them. He didn’t know why and that scared him.

  “I found this on one of the soldiers,” he handed the paper to her and watched her read it. The color drained from her face. “Do you think there might be others?”

  Jess said nothing in response. She stared at the paper for a long time, reading and rereading the few words until she had the note, even the shape of the letter formations firmly fixed in her mind.

  They finished eating and Jacob fussed in the wrap. Jess changed his diaper, wrapped him back against her, and began walking without a word to David or Tina. Soon after, east turned to due south as they discovered the first of scores of bodies. There had been fighting here recently, a few days at most, and the smell from the corpses was sickening. Tina whimpered in fear and hid her face in her brother’s shirt as they skirted around the dead. Quincy’s tail stayed permanently tucked between her legs and she walked as close as possible to Jess, her ears flattened, her body tense.

  Jess wondered if the bodies belonged to some of the troops who had passed through Clinton recently. It seemed safer to head south for now. As they turned south, the northwestern edge of Harry Truman Lake appeared and due to the inability to head east unless they wanted to swim, they hugged the lake edge and continued south, away from Belton, yet again.

  It was sunset when they made camp on a bluff overlooking the reservoir. Decades ago, the U.S. Corps of Engineers had purposely flooded sections of the low-lying valley, creating Truman Lake. In the distance, tips of dead, drowned trees poked up from the middle of the water. Even the top of a chimney could be seen. It was an old homestead that had long been abandoned and then submerged when the waters flooded the valley.

  They didn’t dare build a fire. The highway, probably Highway 7 from Jess’s quick review of the map they had found in a broken-down truck, was also within view. What they could see of the highway, someone on the highway could likely also see of them. No reason to take chances.

  Again, Jess forced herself to eat. There wasn’t much, and because they couldn’t build a fire, she let Quincy eat the rabbit she had flushed out and caught shortly before they stopped for the night. The young dog eagerly tore into her meal.

  They slept huddled close that night. It was warm, not oppressively so, but warm enough. Still, they needed to feel safe, needed to hear the breath of another living person and feel their presence close. Life was so fleeting, so painfully short at times; they needed each other more than ever before. So they slept, deeply, without dreams or nightmares on that bluff, legs and arms intertwined, bodies curled close.

  Keeping the small band together and safe overrode Jess’s desire to head home. They continued south the next day, keeping the water’s edge within sight at all times. It was late and almost time to stop for dinner and camp for the night when David commented on the strange tree. It was bent, twice, at nearly perfect right angles, “This tree is weird.”

  Weird or not, it was a reasonable place to stop. The sun would soon be setting and it was time to scrounge for food. Quincy had disappeared into the brush to the west, probably hunting for a rabbit or squirrel. They heard her give one short, quick bark. David had been picking from bushes and digging up little plants all along the way. All of his studies of the now filthy, dog-eared and ragged book were paying off. He could easily identify plantain, cattail, wild onion, fiddlehead ferns, oxalis and a host of other edible plants. As they walked he would suddenly stop and dig something up and stick it into his pack.

  The long-bladed shovel he found at the farmhouse had become his walking stick and was never far from his reach. Tina had begun to help as well, and when they stopped for any length of time, both children would forage a little, always within sight, and pick up what plants they could to supplement the dwindling supply of canned food.

  As Jess began to search through the cans for dinner, David continued to study the strangely formed tree with interest. It was such a specific deformity. And there was nothing in sight that indicated why it would be shaped that way. “It’s like it’s pointing to something,” David commented, unable to stop staring at the tree.

  An unexpected voice answered, “It is pointing at something. That, young man, is what the Osage call a thong tree.”

  The owner of the voice was a bright-eyed old woman, who leaned on a walking stick and blended seamlessly into the trees twenty feet away. A rifle was strapped to her back and her dark eyes sparkled beneath a crown of white hair pulled into a loose bun. Wisps of her hair hung freely. She was slim, dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans with solid, no-nonsense hiking boots on her feet. Quincy squirmed in excitement at her feet; apparently she had found a person instead of the usual rabbit or squirrel.

  David jumped in response and the rest of them froze in place. But it was hard to be afraid of one little old woman, especially with Quincy’s relaxed canine confidence in the stranger. Jess scanned the rest of the woods surrounding them and saw no one. When her gaze returned to the old woman she saw long, deep lines etched in her face. It was hard to keep her guard up; the old woman looked friendly and had reached down to scratch Quincy behind the ears. The dog leaned a floppy-eared head against the woman’s jeans.

  Jess spoke first, “Uhhh, hi.”

  David spoke as well, “Why’s it called a thong tree and who’re the Oh Sage?”

  The old woman laughed then and the lines in her face deepened as she did. The children relaxed for the first time in a long time. Here was someone who was not a threat.

  “Well I’m Osage, Little One, and the rest is better explained a short walk from here.” She glanced up at the sky, “Rain is coming.” She turned and began walking west, away from the lake’s edge, stopping only briefly to glance back and crook a bony finger at the group. “Come this way then.”

  Quincy bounded after her, and a moment later, so did Jess and the kids, lugging the packs they had recently shed from their backs. It was odd, she hadn’t even introduced herself, yet the little group followed her wordlessly.

  Through the clearing and into the deep woods they walked. A winding path, with several sharp zigs and zags, was barely visible unless you knew what to look for. It eventually led to the base of a wide-mouthed, low-ceilinged cave. Seconds after they followed the old woman inside of the cave, the skies outside darkened, rumbled ominously, and then opened up and began to pour rain.

  Thanks to the rain and clouds, the inside of the cave appeared dim. After bending slightly to pass under an overhanging rock, the ceiling raised above Jess’s head. It was about twelve feet high in this main outer chamber. Ahead of them it closed down again to a dimly lit opening in the back. There appeared to be some kind of light source on the other side. They kept to the path on the left and avoided the deep holes dug on the right-hand side. It appeared to be an archaeological dig site in process. Pickets and string sectioned off areas in meter squares, delineating one section from the next. Signs labeled each square and in some of the sections there were spearheads or pot shards laid out, in the exact position they had been discovered and excavated.

  Jess and the children followed the old woman back through this outer chamber, through the small man-height opening. Jess could see that the light source, judging from the water dripping down on one edge was a natural skylight that reached all the way up through the cave ceiling. This inner chamber was immense, and there were several other smaller dig sites at regular intervals throughout. It was obvious that the old woman lived here as well. There was a section with a table, several chairs and some stacks of boxes and containers all situated away from the falling water, but close to the ‘skylight.’ The rain came in and pooled in a lagoon the size of the front chamber, then flowed away along a small rocky stream toward the pitch black rear of the cave.

  The old wo
man stopped near the campfire located across from her living area. She stirred the embers and gently placed another log on to burn. A spit held three blackened lumps above the crackling fire. It was difficult to tell, but Jess guessed it was probably squirrel.

  She spoke then, as she moved from the fire to the supplies nearby, “Not much meat for all of you, but I wasn’t really expecting company. I can cook up some ramen and I’m sure I’ve got some other goodies in here to add to it.” She opened boxes and handed a saucepan to David, “Fill it up with rainwater there and put it on the fire, Min’-dse.” She smiled and her teeth were white and perfect, “My name is Dr. Madeleine Falling Water, but you can call me Madge. Let’s get some dinner and then we’ll have story time.”

  Jess wasn’t sure what to think of the old woman or of story time but at that moment Jacob signaled he was awake, hungry, and ready for a change by wailing loud and long. She pulled him out of her wrap, where he had been hidden from sight, and Madge moved faster than it seemed possible for a woman her age.

  Before Jess could object, Jacob was lifted from her arms with a cry of joy and a barrage of words in a strange, guttural language. Oddly the baby stopped crying immediately and stared at the old woman intensely, watching and listening to everything she said.

  She unwrapped his coverings, clucked over his wet and bulging diaper, and immediately set him on a coat on the cave floor and changed him, reaching impatiently for the clean diaper which Jess found and handed to her after a bit of scrambling. Madge then swept him up in her arms and spoke rapidly in the foreign language to the infant, cooing and kissing, and then handing him back to Jess to nurse.

  She pointed a slender, bony finger at Tina, “Little one, Ni’-da-wi, go out to the front of the cave and pick as many dandelions as you can find.” She gave the little girl a soft push back towards the entrance to the cave and pulled Jess by her free hand to a chair set apart from the others in one corner. “Here child, sit here and give your son his dinner.”