Chapter 2: Into the fires of Hell

Tom was just waking up as the first rays of the sun peaked over the mountain top. It had been a hard job getting down the side of the mountain, and they had planned to rest for the day and get their gear in order before they moved out to face the next mountain peak. The activity of the camp had not begun yet, as it was going to be a day of rest. Being Sunday had made the decision easy to be accepted, even though most Sundays were nothing more than another day. Some families gathered around the fires on Sunday night to read their bibles, but most of the time even that effort carried a price the next day.

Tom got to his feet and went to put more wood on the fire, as the embers still glowed from the previous night. Tom froze from surprise as the Indians suddenly appeared in the camp. They had all heard the stories. They knew what to expect.

Tom heard a voice call out in the camp, and it was quickly carried around the train; "Indians!" It was all that needed to be said. Tom heard movement from the wagons as people were startled out of their beds. The Indian in front of him had a snarl as he lunged forward with a knife. Tom saw the piece of firewood in his hands suddenly slam into the Indian's head as he went quickly to the ground.

Suddenly there were Indians everywhere. Arrows flew, whizzing through the air. Shouts and screams were answered with savage cries, but all Tom saw were the two Indians moving toward him; one with a knife, and the other with a bow and arrow. Tom watched as the arrow was pulled and threw the firewood with all of his might. It crossed the distance quickly, but not before the arrow was in the air. Tom waited for the end to come, but heard the arrow whiz past his ear. When he looked he saw the Indian sitting on the ground, with the firewood at his side. When the movement of the other Indian caught his attention, he saw the anger and determination on his face, and his only defense was gone.

The sound of gunfire could now be heard, but he knew that only the scouts and a few of the hunters, had any real chance of hitting anything. The rest of them were farmers, and only hunted for food. Tom didn't delude himself; their situation was grave. The sounds of the gunfire moved the Indian to attack. Tom understood; they had wanted to surprise the train, and now they had to move fast. Tom saw the knife moving toward him as the Indian lunged, he didn't think as he took a step backward, and reached out to grab the wrist of the man. He spun and heaved him toward the wagon, and watched as he hit solidly against the wheel. He was surprised when the man dropped to the ground. Then everything went dark.

Tom could hear the screaming as he fought against the blackness, it was difficult to get his brain to work, and his body didn't want to move. It felt like waking up in the cold dark plains and trying to move. As he opened his eyes, the bright sunlight made him close them again, but the throbbing in his head wouldn't go away. He pushed himself up, and forced his eyes open again. Even though it hurt, he could manage to keep them open.

As he looked around, he saw the dead littering the ground. His mother and father were lying at the back of the wagon. He doubted that his father had even come out of the wagon, until they pulled him out. He didn't have to look to know that they were dead. He was surprised to find that it didn't mean much to him. He was sorry that they were dead, but he felt no other emotion.

Looking around he saw the same thing all around the other wagons. Then he felt the point of something sharp poke his ribs, and jumped. When he looked over his shoulder he saw the Indian that had shot the arrow at him. He was holding a spear in one hand and his stack of books in the other. Anger filled Tom that they would steal his books. He poked Tom again, and Tom felt the hot trickle of blood run down his side. The Indian pointed to the center of the camp, and Tom understood. As he got to his feet, his vision clouded for a second and he was sure that he was going to pass out, but he managed to keep his feet. He felt the spear again as he staggered toward the center of the camp.

When he got there he was surprised that there were still people alive. He quickly looked around and saw that there were three groups of people huddled together amidst the dead bodies that littered the ground. Little boys younger than the age of seven or eight; girls and women older than the age of about ten, and another group of boys his own age. He knew where he was supposed to go, and staggered to the group of boys. There were about ten or twelve of them, the oldest was Billy Wilson and the youngest was a boy name Fred Thomas. Tom remember that he was about ten now. All of them looked scared. Tom understood as he would have felt the same way, if he didn't hurt so much. Now he just didn't care.

Tom noticed that there was a small group of Indians that acted like the leaders of the wagon train. Tom quickly realized that they gave the orders, and the others moved to carry them out. Tom watched as a steady stream of Indians made their way to the group, all of them carrying books, found in the wagons. Usually just a bible, but sometimes there was another one. Tom was shocked to see the size of the pile; he didn't know that there were that many books in the wagon train.

Tom watched his beloved books also moved to the pile. Before they made it into the random jumble, an older Indian stopped the Indian carrying his books and they started to talk. It was not quick and hurried, but slow and thoughtful. Tom saw that he had been pointed out to the older man.

When Tom looked into his eyes he was filled with wonder and fear. This was not a man that did things without purpose, and he saw the fire burning brightly in those eyes. He knew that he would do anything that it took to get what he wanted. He had seen that look before in some men. The wagon-master had that look, and he remembered the times that people defied him. Normally all it took was a look from those fiery eyes, and they backed down. Tom now saw those same eyes looking at him. He was sure that if he didn't already know that he was going to die, then he would not have been able to hold that gaze.

The man grabbed a book and started to walk to the group of boys. Tom saw the whole group followed the older man. He moved with a fluid grace and purpose. He saw everything around him, as his eyes darted here and there. Tom knew that he could tell you where everyone in the camp was at, and what they were doing. Tom suddenly understood the value of that and found himself looking around quickly, and noticed the position and activity of everything going on. It wasn't the blundering randomness that he first thought. Every Indian was on a mission, and every action was designed to accomplish his task. There were no savage cries, or angry attacks. Each man did what he had to do, and if that meant killing, then he killed. If it was to guard a group, then he stood quietly and did his job. Tom could see the order in the chaos.

He was suddenly looking into the eyes of the older man. Tom had not noticed that he had walked right up to him and was looking him in the eyes. Tom stared back, with a new respect for this man. As Tom looked in his eyes he didn't flinch this time, he knew this man, and he found a smile formed on his lips. The smile surprised the man so much that he took a step back. The surprised look on his face made Tom smile even bigger; he knew that this man was rarely surprised, and he had done it. The man looked hard at Tom before he thrust the book into his hands, with only one word "read."

Tom noticed that it was one of his favorites. He opened the book at random and started to read. Before he had read more than a dozen lines the book was snatched out of his hands. Tom felt a sense of loss. He watched as the book was passed to each boy. A couple struggled with the words, and then the next was given the book. Tom watched as each boy gave it his best try. Some just looked at the book and handed it back shaking his head. When Billy Wilson got the book he sneered at it and dropped it. The man was as fast as a snake as his knife was at Billy's throat.

They all watched as the front of Billy's pants suddenly got wet, and a stream of yellow ran over his foot. The man looked in disgust into the terrified face of Billy Wilson. Tom couldn't hold back the snicker that escaped his lips. The man shot him a cold look as he walked to Tom, his knife was suddenly at his throat. Tom showed no fear, he was too far past fear; his head hurt, he had blood running down his side soaking his pants, and he already knew that he was going to die. He saw no reason to give them any entertainment at his expense. That had been done enough in his life, and if it was going to end, then he would end it the same way that the heroes of his books did; with a smile and courage. Tom leaned into the knife and felt the blood trickle down his chest.

The man was surprised and quickly stepped back. He looked hard at Tom, trying to see what was behind that amused smile. Tom believed that he was trying see if he was crazy, and Tom honestly didn't know himself. That was when Billy made a break for freedom. Tom knew that it was useless; he couldn't hope to get out of the camp with the number of Indians there. The man glanced at the running back of Billy Wilson and nodded his head. The boys watched as one of the warriors smoothly pulled an arrow and it was suddenly in the back of Billy. He didn't even cry out as he hit the ground. Once Billy hit the ground Tom looked at his feet, closed his eyes and shook his head. He was amazed that he was so stupid. When he lifted his head again he saw the man looking at him again, he wasn't sure that he had ever stopped, even when Billy had made his desperate run for freedom.

The man looked purposefully at Billy and nodded his head, then looked back at Tom. Tom understood, but he didn't know how to answer him. He thought for a minute before he put his finger to his head, then made a flat smooth gesture. The man smiled and nodded his understanding. He then stepped back and spoke to the small group. The Indian that had brought Tom to the group roughly pushed him in the direction of the group of small boys. Once they had gone a few feet away from the group there were sudden screams, and then it was quiet. When Tom looked back every boy had an arrow sticking out of his body. Tom thought that it was strange when he realized that he felt more for them than he did his own parents. His guard used the spear again and Tom continued on his way to the group.

Tom sat and watched as things were loaded into wagons. Food, cooking pots, blankets, muskets, knives and surprisingly he watched as the books were loaded. He was just as surprised when some were thrown out. He realized later that they were all bibles. He then watched as the girls and boys were all loaded into another wagon. The women and Tom were tied to the back of the wagon. They all looked at him curiously, but he had no answers to give them. Tom was amazed that it wasn't even noon and they were already setting off. He was impressed with the efficiency of everything that they did. He noticed that the women had no interest or desire to see anything around them.

Tom had not given it any real thought, but he suddenly realized that the women all tied to the wagon were the most beautiful in the camp. From the youngest to the oldest, they were the ones that were desired the most. Tom remembered that he had thought about every one of them, and now here they were. He couldn't suppress a small smile as he watched the beautiful Sally Perkins stumble and fall on her ass, as the wagon kept its steady progress. If she didn't get up then they would drag her until she did, or died. Through her tears she struggled back onto her feet. Tom thought the way life worked out was sometimes ironic. She had fended her honor the entire trip, even made Billy Wilson wait until they reached the new settlement before agreeing to marry him; now she was going to lose her virginity to an Indian. They all looked at Tom as he laughed. They were sure that he was out of his mind, but things had never seemed so clear to him.

In the evenings the women were forced to cook the food as guards watched their every move. After the Indians ate, then children were fed, then Tom and the women were allowed to eat, if there was anything left. Tom fared easily on the trip, walking was more difficult with his hands tied, and his side throbbed, but without having to pull the horses every step of the trip it was not a real problem. The women had never spent more than an hour walking at a time, and they soon spent much of their time on the ground.

Tom did what he could, but he could only help so much. After eating Tom found himself immediately asleep. He didn't see when the warriors came to sample the charms of the women. He woke with a start as one woman screamed in his ear. He looked around to see the women with their dresses torn from their bodies, and many were putting up a fight for their honor. He knew that there were guards, even if he couldn't see them. The women weren't tied now, and that meant that guards were watching, probably waiting for their own turns.

Tom slowly sat up and watched the festivities. He was not stupid enough to try and interfere; he knew that he was alive for a reason, but that wouldn't stop the guards from putting an arrow someplace that wouldn't kill him. And he knew that in the end it wouldn't make any difference. For some reason he found it pleasurable to watch Sally Perkins scream and kick as each piece of clothing was ripped away. He could have told them that if they wanted to have clothes tomorrow, then they shouldn't fight tonight. He had seen the uselessness of fighting watching his mother and father; he knew the outcome was predictable.

The woman that had screamed looked at him and shouted, "For God's sake, help me!" Tom looked at her and asked her just how he was supposed to help her. His hands were tied behind him, and even though he was starting to fill out he was still only twelve years old. She could see that he was far from the size of the Indian fighting to get her clothes off. She showed desperation and terror as the sound of ripping cloth signaled that her fight was almost over.

When the carnage was coming to an end Tom slowly got to his feet and made his way toward the edge of the clearing. He had not gone more than ten feet when a guard stepped in front of him with and arrow notched in his bow. Tom calmly turned around and raised his arms. As he waited he wondered if the guard would cut his ropes, or put the knife someplace else. He was surprised when his hands were suddenly free. He rubbed his sore and aching shoulder muscles as he turned to the guard. He was surprised when the guard held his knife ready to attack; he couldn't see where he was all that dangerous. He nodded his thanks and moved away and relieved himself.

Once back in the clearing, he moved to get a bucket and fill it from the water barrel. He picked up a rag from the ground and started to make his way to the women and young girls lying on the ground. They were crying and many looked to be dead, but when he touched them they jumped. He had heard the doctor talk about shock once, and figured that this was it.

He started to clean them up, doing what he could. Many of them pushed him away, but some of them appreciated his efforts. The young girls allowed him to clean them up and helped them to get dressed. A couple even hugged him as tightly as they could. He spent more than an hour moving from one to the next, until one of the older women pushed him away and spat at him. She took over where he had left off. He moved back over to his spot by the wagon and rolled up in his blanket.

Mornings were not a time to eat, as the little troop started out again. The women were once again tied to the wagon, but surprisingly Tom was left free to follow along, even though there were still guards. He used the new freedom to help the women as much as he could. Some appreciated his help, like the night before, and some blamed him for not helping them the previous night. He quickly found out which women to avoid. Sally was one of those. She blamed everyone for what happened to her; Tom as well as the other women. She refused to understand that everybody had their own problems; she was used to everyone catering to her every whim, and Tom knew that she was in for a rough time.