This was exactly the natural the council wanted her to be.
Eric and Lockwood were the first to appear, their hands held up in the air. Both of their faces were tight with worry. A group of ten men, rifles in hand, followed them. Several men lagged behind the community’s row of guns with makeshift lit torches in tow.
And behind them came Al.
I tightened my grip on my sister’s hand.
“It’s been a long time, Charlie,” Al said, lazily leaning against his rifle. His smugness had always driven me crazy.
“That it has,” my father replied, shifting his gun so it was pointed directly at the man who stood between us and safety—even if that safety was temporary. For the briefest of seconds, I was glad my father was pointing his gun at Al; I’d do just about anything to get Louisa inside the community.
“I think we can lower the gun. There’s no need for it. Not when we both know you won’t use it,” Al sneered. His slimy, slippery grin refused to leave his face.
“What makes you so sure?” my father asked. Despite his age, his aim was steady, firm. It never wavered.
“’Cause I know you. Don’t think I don’t remember those early days. Back then…I heard you. When we traveled from community to community, passing intel, gathering men for the great rebellion that never came, you cried in the night when you thought no one could hear you. You cried for your children. Sometimes even your wife.”
“I suggest you shut your mouth. You have no idea what you’re talking about,” my father warned. He was attempting stoicism, but it was crumbling quickly. He squinted and leaned forward slightly, his gun still aimed directly at the man who McNair once told me would never be happy. Not because it wasn’t possible, but because he never wanted it.
“Nothing is going to get solved while you all have those damn guns pointed at each other,” Lockwood said. “Why don’t we just go back to the community, get Sharon to check in on Louisa, and talk this over.”
The man holding his gun trained on Lockwood jutted the butt of it into Lockwood’s stomach. He lurched forward onto his knees and coughed so violently I worried he was going to burst a blood vessel in his forehead. Louisa hid her head against my shoulder and began to whimper.
Henry grabbed my wrist to hold me in place. If it wasn’t for Louisa, nothing would have stopped me from running to Lockwood. I breathed in and out through my nose and could hear Henry doing the same next to me.
“I remember telling you to keep your mouth shut! You lost the right to speak the minute you left,” Al snapped at Lockwood. All the while he kept his eyes on my father.
“Is it any wonder you’ve never been able to inspire loyalty? And I’m not talking about using fear to get a bunch of weak-minded folks to stand behind you with guns,” my father replied.
Al laughed slowly, moving his head back and forth. As the sound of his chuckle weaved throughout the woods, mocking the brightness of the stars that covered our heads, it became louder. Sarcastic. Taunting. “Says the man who travels with a pack of wild things, half-crazed morons propelled by dreams of a war that will never come.”
“Let me shoot this son of a—”
“Hold your ground, Stephanie,” my father commanded. I glanced back and see her grit her teeth, her eyes holding nothing but contempt for the man who insulted my father, his army, and everything they stood for.
“Just leave, Charlie. There ain’t nothing for you here. Go back to wherever you came. No rebellion to chase after in these parts. The most we got is a bunch of boys who call themselves resistance fighters, but all they do is go out and collect supplies. Chase your pipe dream somewhere else. We’re just trying to survive.”
“That’s always been your problem, Al—you’re too concerned with just surviving,” my father countered. “Don’t you want something better than hiding in the woods like a convict?”
“Better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven. You really think you can take me down? How? With a few malnourished lunatics and a pregnant slut?” Al spat, pointing his gun toward my little sister.
That was all it took. My father’s resolve was gone before the smoke from his rifle drifted toward the sky. Al screamed in agony, grabbing onto his leg as he crumpled to the ground. As Al’s men moved to shoot my father, Stephanie took two of them down, matching my father’s shot to Al’s leg.
Louisa yelped. My mouth dropped open and my eyes went wide as a wave of nausea washed over me. The three men from the community cursed and moaned, rolling around. I would never get used to this violence. I didn’t want to.