Chapter 16

Yet another epic hunt was in order, Clipper thought. He kept doing that, thinking just one more, one more, one more deer ... another pig would be nice, since he was making enough friends around the mountain to share the meat, if he got another. One brisk autumn morning, he got Dylan and Girl up before dawn, and they armed themselves, grabbed their packs, and headed off down the mountain. Dylan carried the AR with a pocketful of extra bullets and Clipper had the AK. Mr. Peck had come through with some 7.62x39, and the clip was now fully loaded and he even had twenty extra rounds in his pocket, just in case. He only planned on shooting the gun one or two times, but it never hurts to be prepared. He had no idea how well that would prove to be true on this day.

But, starting out, nothing seemed amiss. They had Fang and Bear with them, and the two dogs bounded far and wide, probably chasing away everything for a mile or two. It didn’t matter, Clipper didn’t consider them actually “hunting” until they left Devonsville behind. It was ritual, to stop at Devonsville for breakfast. It’s just how they did it.

The dogs began acting strangely when they came out of the forest, and approached the town. The hair on Fang’s back stood up and she growled softly. Bear got more and more skittish and he began growling, too. The closer they got the freakier the dogs acted, until Clipper finally began to pay attention.

“Girl,” he said, as they drew near to the general store. “Go back to the treeline, and keep the dogs there. Dylan and I are going to look around.” He wanted her far away if any danger was near. Not that he expected any. But the dogs were acting really strange...

He grabbed her, and kissed her, hard and quick. She gave him a look like she wasn’t sure she wanted to do what he said, and he nodded at her. “Dylan,” she said, “watch his back.” Dylan nodded, and she turned, calling the dogs to her. He watched her walk away, back to the treeline. He was distracted. That butt, he thought. Goddam. That butt.

He felt sure that nothing really big and bad could be going on in town. Could it? Sure, there were people around town, lots of people. But the dogs had been here before and not acted that way. What the hell, he thought.

He ducked into Peck’s store, leaving Dylan in the doorway to keep watch. Nothing. Nothing, and nobody. He went all the way in the back to where Peck and his family lived, calling out as he went. Completely empty. A pot of soup boiled on the stove, and he turned the burner off, thinking. What the hell. That’s what he thought, what the hell is going on here?

He picked Dylan back up, and they carefully made their way down the street. He realized that he was barely hearing a voice, something that sounded like somebody was shouting or possibly preaching. His curiosity was piqued even further.

They slowly, carefully walked down the street. Not a person anywhere. That wasn’t that peculiar, this was a small town. It was early morning, everyone was probably at the diner. Yes, that had to be it. The boiling pot still disturbed him, though. He hadn’t known a woman yet that would walk off and leave a pot boiling like that. It just wasn’t safe, and it’d probably ruin whatever you were cooking.

As they approached the diner and he looked inside, expecting to see a whole crowd of folks sitting around eating. Nothing. No one. He peered into the window and to his amazement it was completely empty. There was food on the tables and jackets on the backs of chairs. There just wasn’t any people. Not even the cooks or waiters.

He looked at Dylan. Dylan shrugged. He heard the voice again. It sounded like it came from behind the buildings, from the alley. He led Dylan around the next building and towards the alley.

Devonsville was a small town. The business district was about a block long, with maybe fifteen small stores. Behind that was pretty much nothing ... a few acres of field, and then the treeline. The houses, the rest of the town, started a few hundred feet on down.

Clipper saw a man, standing in the field. He saw two more, as he passed further down the building. To his amazement, the men all had their hands in the air. Not real high, he noticed, about elbow high. Like they’d been doing it a long time. He pulled Dylan against the side of the building, not wanting to be seen.

He moved a little further down the side of the building. The voice was droning on, he could hear it but he couldn’t understand what it was saying. He got to the end of the building. If he went any further, he’d be seen by the folks in the field. He could tell by now from peeks he’d taken that there were a lot of folks standing in the field, with their hands up.

What the hell? he thought. Dylan leaned towards him, and whispered, “Peacekeepers?” Clipper just shrugged. He had no idea. Dylan had a good thought, though. He wondered if this was a weapons sweep or something. He didn’t want to get caught in it, if it was. He didn’t want to give up his guns. And he sure didn’t want to get in trouble for owning them. Unless it was those Peacekeepers they’d met that time ... but then again, even they might be forced to enforce...

He motioned for Dylan to back up, and they moved back along the wall, further out of sight of the activity in the field. Dylan was watching, though, and he spotted the next peculiar thing. He motioned to Clipper, who turned around just in time to see an armed man walking around the edge of the field. Acting like a guard, looking in towards where he knew the people were. The man had what looked like a deer rifle, complete with scope. Clipper was doubly nonplussed, now. No uniform. So much for the Peacekeeper idea. Just a guy, in normal clothes, acting like a guard. Clipper knew that if all or most of the town was gathered in the field, there had to be more than just one guard. More likely ten or twenty. Crap. Just what the hell was going on here? he thought, for the umpteenth time.

They turned around the corner of the building, to the boardwalk. Some motion across the alley caught Clipper’s attention, and he almost jumped out of his skin as a figure waved to him. He was glad his finger wasn’t on the trigger of the AK, he’d probably have squeezed one off from sheer jumpiness. He was pretty keyed up by now.

It was Ableard Wilson, of all people. Thank god, he thought. Behind him, holding a deer rifle pointed at the sky, was his friend John Jerard. Ableard was making a shushing motion, also holding a rifle. Clipper judged that the angle of the alley would prevent him from being seen from the field, and he ran across to meet them, Dylan close behind.

“Ableard, what the hell is...” he started, but Ableard broke in.

“Clip, I dunno, just some guys with guns. I heard some of it, the guy talking is calling himself “Captain Hook.” I guess they think they’re pirates.”

“Is everyone there? Did they round everybody up?” Clipper asked.

“Pretty much. I think everybody was in the diner when they came into town. They probably already had Peck and his family, and Mrs. Cling from the seamstress shop. From what I understand they are now taking people one by one to their houses, to ransom family members the pirates are holding. They have threatened several times to shoot whoever can’t meet the minimum in loot.”

“Shit,” said Clipper. “Ableard, what the hell can we do?”

His sentence was punctuated with a single gunshot, coming from behind the buildings. Oh shit, he thought, wondering who had just died. He wondered if the pirates were just making an example of someone. Ableard paused, and then continued.

“Clipper. We have to take out the brains. We have to get around to where we can shoot, without hitting people in the crowd. If we take out the leaders we’ll be way ahead. We can do that if we take them by surprise. We have four rifles and there’s about ten of them, but most of them just have bolt-actions, from what I’ve seen. You and Dylan have semi-auto’s.”

“Dylan,” Clipper turned to face the boy. “Are you up to this?” He didn’t want to offend Dylan, but he wanted to give him an out. He knew that Jerard could handle the AR just fine if Dylan didn’t want to get into a firefight.

Dylan was ready, though. “Hell yeah!” he said, looking at Clipper like he was crazy to suggest such a thing. Well, I tried, thought Clipper.

“Dylan. Do everything Ableard tells you. Listen close,” he turned to Ableard, expectantly. Ableard would know. He always knew.

“Hell, I don’t know!” said Ableard. “Let’s go to the end of the row, and see if they’re in the clear, if we have a clear shot from there. The main thing is, we can’t shoot our own people. That wouldn’t solve anything.”

The four of them went down to the end of the row of shops. Clipper saw Girl standing forlornly out at the treeline. He motioned to her, what he hoped was a kind of a stay and wait thing. He hoped she understood. Man, he thought, we need to all learn some hand signals.

They crossed the end shop, and started down the alley, hugging the side of the shops as they passed. Clipper started seeing men here and there in the field, with their hands up. He was surprised no one had seen them, yet. Maybe they had, and were just giving them cover. He hoped.

They stopped, with just one building left. Maybe a quarter of the crowd in the field was visible, at this point. At least no guards were in sight. Clipper knew if he could see them they could see him. The four of them crouched and held a hurried conference. The speaker’s voice started up again in the middle of it.

“Okay.” Ableard said quietly. “John’s gonna take out Captain Hook. When he fires you guys start firing. Shoot to kill, we’re not feeling sorry for these bastards today. Use the side of this building for cover, John at the top, then the boy, then you, Clipper, and I’ll be on my belly, at the bottom. Select your targets from left to right, top to bottom, so we don’t waste time shooting the same guy twice.”