Chapter 6:
Posted: Fri Feb 07, 2020 12:51 am
April 30, 1998
17:00
33 Days Post Change
Interstate 80, Illinois/Iowa border
Jeremiah's and Kat's band of adventurers had grown substantially since the change to nearly one-hundred.
The bikes had been ditched four weeks ago when they arrived at a farm just inside the Illinois state line. There they found a pair of ancient wagons. One a buckboard style, and the other an old Studebaker chuck wagon. In the stable were four Suffolk mares gaunt and hangry.
A search of the house found a middle-aged couple hanging from an apparent suicide. A note on the table scrawled "Judith is out of insulin. She is in so much pain, and I cannot bear to live without her."
Jeremiah and Dougal cut them down and buried the couple near the garden which was already bearing some early spring vegetables.
Kat and Aimee cleaned out the house and barn of anything useful. The barn had a portable coal forge which Dougal was overjoyed to find, and the cellar had several bushels of apples, sacks of potatoes, and hundreds of jars of canned foods including jams. There was even a cured ham hanging from one of the floor joists.
The pasture had two Quarter horses and a black and white paint gelding, which Kat had claimed as her own. Jeremiah picked a stout looking bay, and neither Aimee or Dougal had any interest in riding. Besides someone would be needed to drive the wagons so the small little sorrel was lead along from the back of the chuck wagon.
Outside of Rochelle, they ran into a group of college students standard when their bus died on it's way to Chicago. It took some persuasion from Dougal and Jeremiah to let them join, as it seemed to her they had little skills, but Dougal was right. They were, young smart, and athletic men and they had learned quickly to the new spears and pikes that the Scotsman was now churning out.
Her band or the Outfit as she and the others had started to call themselves had gained a dozen horses and a milch cow for helping with a group of bandits that were terrorizing the town of Franklin Grove. There had been several outsiders that hadn't been welcomed into the community, and the Outfit took them on. A mixed bunch of people from all over who had found themselves stranded on the highway that fateful day in March.
It wasn't that hot yet, but Kat was still drenched in sweat under the padded gambison and the new breastplates Dougal was now making. The stainless steel bowls that they found in an abandoned warehouse had been quickly turned into helmets. The paint, she had taken to calling Peaty, snorted as he plodded along the median of the highway.
Up ahead a crew of the young men labored to push cars and other small vehicles out of the way of the wagons. The semis were impossible to move once the air was drained from their tanks, but there was a second crew searching the trucks for items of value. The food found wasn't always palpable, but a can of green beans could keep a person going.
Off of the highway, a group of lancers had broken away from the wagons to practice their new trade. The horses took as much if not more to train than their riders. A spooked horse on the battlefield wasn't something you wanted.
"Just a few more miles and we'll be in Iowa," Jeremiah said taking off his helm and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "I never thought armor would be this damned hot."
"I would imagine full plate would be even worse," Kat replied. "We should camp here. We have the Rock River, and I trust that to drink from more than the Mississippi."
Jeremiah nodded, "Yeah, I think so too. With this big of a group, we can't go too far from water, and the scouts haven't checked in yet."
Kat sighed, "Yeah." Standing in the saddle she yelled over her shoulder, "Hey Aimee we're going to camp here. Get the word out that we'll have weapons training early today. That way we can get to bed early and be moving out at first light."
Aimee shielded her eyes from the sun, "Okay Boss. What do you want for dinner?"
Kat laughed, "Everyone's favorite perpetual stew?"
Aimee grinned, "Glad you picked that. I don't have ingredients for anything else."
"That's all we ever have," someone shouted, and the rest of the nearby followers laughed.
The clatter of hooves drew her attention away from the domestic banter. One of the scouts was galloping up. The horse was breathing hard, but not blown. The Scout saluted, "Ma'am you need to see this."
"See what Freddie?"
"Uh... I... uh... You just need to see this for yourself."
"Lancers form up! Full kit," Kat shouted. "Freddie get yourself a fresh horse and make sure one of the kids walks him out. We don't need him to founder on us."
Freddie saluted and rode off to the back of the camp as the lancers slowly formed up. Several were helping friends buckle their breastplates on. Their twelve-foot lances looked like a forest of striped trees topped with a menacing-looking steel spike.
The sun was setting in orange and red as Freddie led Kat and Jeremiah to the edge of a low ridge. The smell was the first thing that hit them. Dozens of unwashed bodies and poorly maintained latrines wafted up from below mixed with wood smoke and the appetizing smell of roasting meat.
Shucking out their binoculars the put them to their eyes. There were roughly twenty refugees ranging in ages from their teens to their forties. There were both men and women, and all their clothes were filthy and torn.
"Did you notice what they are having for dinner?" Freddie asked.
"No... oh my God," Kat gasped. Near the fire were an ax and a saw lay were the remnants of someone. A woman judging by the butterfly tattoo still visible on the pale skin.
"That's not all. Look to the south side of the camp. Those two women."
Kat adjusted her binoculars and found two women bound in rope. Their eyes were wide in terror. One of the women had chocolate mocha skin. The other looked like she was Asian but definitely had some white in her.
"A band of..." Kat hesitated trying to think of term that didn't want to turn her stomach inside out. "A band of eaters, and it looks like they have taken to keeping their prey alive so that the... meat doesn't spoil. We have to take them out."
Jeremiah nodded in agreement. "I don't think we have any choice in the matter."
"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Kat said as she started to draw the plan out in the dirt. Jeremiah and I are the best at the bow in the Outfit. We use the high ground here while the lancers flank them from the west. We are outnumbered nearly two to one, but we have surprise on our side, and I'm betting we're better trained and equipped."
"I saw a few hunting bows," Jeremiah said, but it looks like spears made from kitchen knives is their weapon of choice."
"I noticed," Kat replied. "Have the Lancers come out of those trees. If we are lucky the eaters won't see the cavalry until it's too late."
Freddie nodded in understanding.
"Let us get them good and riled up before Caterina charges in."
Freddie nodded and rushed off to relay the orders. While she waited she and Jeremiah strung their bows. While moving to the edge on their bellies and emptied their quivers by pushing the arrows point down into the soft soil.
"Thing Caterina and her lancers are in position?"
"Don't know, and that's the point isn't it?" Kat whispered back. "Either way we're running out of daylight."
"Then now?"
Kat simply nodded and stood bolt upright. "Evildoers and scum! Yes, you! The devil is coming to collect your souls tonight!"
Drawing her bow to her ear she let the string roll off her fingertips. Snap! The arrow flew true and with a wet thwack it sunk into the neck of a fat balding man who fell to the ground kicking, blood frothing at his mouth as he shouted a silent scream.
Jeremiah released his arrow a fraction of a second after Kat's and his slammed into the chest of a twentysomething woman who was trying to raise her bow to shoot back.
The leader and a tall brute of a man wearing the tattered remains of a business suit flipped them the bird and started shouting orders to organize the eater band.
Kat and Jeremiah were able to drop four more as the eaters assembled into a loose group. They held their spears over the top of their stop sign shields. Kat shot again. This time her arrow struck one of the shields and with a ping! the shaft flew harmlessly to the ground.
"Kill! Kill! Kill! It's us or them, so into the pot they go!"
Kat took careful aim and her last arrow sailed over a shield and into the eye of an eater. The eaters screamed in frustration and anger. Never before had they dealt with food who fought back so well.
The thundering of hooves turned their attention away from the two archers to see a dozen galloping horses topped with steel-clad riders holding deadly lances at their own unarmored torsos.
Several threw down weapons and began to run. Kat drew her sword and slid her round shield in front of her and charged towards the now chaotic mass of eaters.
The lances sounded like firecrackers as they sunk deep into their targets and then broke. The cavalry charged through the mass then reigned and out went the swords, machetes, and axes of the lancers and they charged in for a second attack.
Kat slammed her shield into the leader knocking him off balance. He swiped at her with his weapon. A cleaver tied to a six-foot pole making it very similar to their own halberds.
She deflected the attack with her shield and swiped at him with her sword which was blocked by her opponent's shield, a yellow left turn sign.
"Who do you think you are bitch!" He demanded through wheezing breath.
"Judge, jury, and executioner!" Kat said as she pushed is cleaver attack away leaving his chest open and vulnerable which she sunk her blade deep into the flesh, then a quick slash across the neck to finish him.
The battle ended almost as quickly as it started, and the mercy strokes took even less time. None of her people had been injured, though they did have to put a horse down that had broken its leg in the melee.
Kat approached the prisoners and sheathed her sword before unbuckling her helm and holding it under her left arm. Two of the dismounted lancers drew their knives and cut the women free.
"I am Kat Donovan and this is my second in command Jeremiah Wallace. You are safe now."
Jeremiah removed his helm and bowed his head, "ladies."
The dark-skinned woman sat up rubbing her wrists, "Monica Laforge. Are you folk Iowans?"
"No," Kat replied. "Jeremiah and I are from Milwaukee, and the rest of the Outfit is from everywhere between here and Chicago."
17:00
33 Days Post Change
Interstate 80, Illinois/Iowa border
Jeremiah's and Kat's band of adventurers had grown substantially since the change to nearly one-hundred.
The bikes had been ditched four weeks ago when they arrived at a farm just inside the Illinois state line. There they found a pair of ancient wagons. One a buckboard style, and the other an old Studebaker chuck wagon. In the stable were four Suffolk mares gaunt and hangry.
A search of the house found a middle-aged couple hanging from an apparent suicide. A note on the table scrawled "Judith is out of insulin. She is in so much pain, and I cannot bear to live without her."
Jeremiah and Dougal cut them down and buried the couple near the garden which was already bearing some early spring vegetables.
Kat and Aimee cleaned out the house and barn of anything useful. The barn had a portable coal forge which Dougal was overjoyed to find, and the cellar had several bushels of apples, sacks of potatoes, and hundreds of jars of canned foods including jams. There was even a cured ham hanging from one of the floor joists.
The pasture had two Quarter horses and a black and white paint gelding, which Kat had claimed as her own. Jeremiah picked a stout looking bay, and neither Aimee or Dougal had any interest in riding. Besides someone would be needed to drive the wagons so the small little sorrel was lead along from the back of the chuck wagon.
Outside of Rochelle, they ran into a group of college students standard when their bus died on it's way to Chicago. It took some persuasion from Dougal and Jeremiah to let them join, as it seemed to her they had little skills, but Dougal was right. They were, young smart, and athletic men and they had learned quickly to the new spears and pikes that the Scotsman was now churning out.
Her band or the Outfit as she and the others had started to call themselves had gained a dozen horses and a milch cow for helping with a group of bandits that were terrorizing the town of Franklin Grove. There had been several outsiders that hadn't been welcomed into the community, and the Outfit took them on. A mixed bunch of people from all over who had found themselves stranded on the highway that fateful day in March.
It wasn't that hot yet, but Kat was still drenched in sweat under the padded gambison and the new breastplates Dougal was now making. The stainless steel bowls that they found in an abandoned warehouse had been quickly turned into helmets. The paint, she had taken to calling Peaty, snorted as he plodded along the median of the highway.
Up ahead a crew of the young men labored to push cars and other small vehicles out of the way of the wagons. The semis were impossible to move once the air was drained from their tanks, but there was a second crew searching the trucks for items of value. The food found wasn't always palpable, but a can of green beans could keep a person going.
Off of the highway, a group of lancers had broken away from the wagons to practice their new trade. The horses took as much if not more to train than their riders. A spooked horse on the battlefield wasn't something you wanted.
"Just a few more miles and we'll be in Iowa," Jeremiah said taking off his helm and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "I never thought armor would be this damned hot."
"I would imagine full plate would be even worse," Kat replied. "We should camp here. We have the Rock River, and I trust that to drink from more than the Mississippi."
Jeremiah nodded, "Yeah, I think so too. With this big of a group, we can't go too far from water, and the scouts haven't checked in yet."
Kat sighed, "Yeah." Standing in the saddle she yelled over her shoulder, "Hey Aimee we're going to camp here. Get the word out that we'll have weapons training early today. That way we can get to bed early and be moving out at first light."
Aimee shielded her eyes from the sun, "Okay Boss. What do you want for dinner?"
Kat laughed, "Everyone's favorite perpetual stew?"
Aimee grinned, "Glad you picked that. I don't have ingredients for anything else."
"That's all we ever have," someone shouted, and the rest of the nearby followers laughed.
The clatter of hooves drew her attention away from the domestic banter. One of the scouts was galloping up. The horse was breathing hard, but not blown. The Scout saluted, "Ma'am you need to see this."
"See what Freddie?"
"Uh... I... uh... You just need to see this for yourself."
"Lancers form up! Full kit," Kat shouted. "Freddie get yourself a fresh horse and make sure one of the kids walks him out. We don't need him to founder on us."
Freddie saluted and rode off to the back of the camp as the lancers slowly formed up. Several were helping friends buckle their breastplates on. Their twelve-foot lances looked like a forest of striped trees topped with a menacing-looking steel spike.
The sun was setting in orange and red as Freddie led Kat and Jeremiah to the edge of a low ridge. The smell was the first thing that hit them. Dozens of unwashed bodies and poorly maintained latrines wafted up from below mixed with wood smoke and the appetizing smell of roasting meat.
Shucking out their binoculars the put them to their eyes. There were roughly twenty refugees ranging in ages from their teens to their forties. There were both men and women, and all their clothes were filthy and torn.
"Did you notice what they are having for dinner?" Freddie asked.
"No... oh my God," Kat gasped. Near the fire were an ax and a saw lay were the remnants of someone. A woman judging by the butterfly tattoo still visible on the pale skin.
"That's not all. Look to the south side of the camp. Those two women."
Kat adjusted her binoculars and found two women bound in rope. Their eyes were wide in terror. One of the women had chocolate mocha skin. The other looked like she was Asian but definitely had some white in her.
"A band of..." Kat hesitated trying to think of term that didn't want to turn her stomach inside out. "A band of eaters, and it looks like they have taken to keeping their prey alive so that the... meat doesn't spoil. We have to take them out."
Jeremiah nodded in agreement. "I don't think we have any choice in the matter."
"Okay, here's what we're going to do," Kat said as she started to draw the plan out in the dirt. Jeremiah and I are the best at the bow in the Outfit. We use the high ground here while the lancers flank them from the west. We are outnumbered nearly two to one, but we have surprise on our side, and I'm betting we're better trained and equipped."
"I saw a few hunting bows," Jeremiah said, but it looks like spears made from kitchen knives is their weapon of choice."
"I noticed," Kat replied. "Have the Lancers come out of those trees. If we are lucky the eaters won't see the cavalry until it's too late."
Freddie nodded in understanding.
"Let us get them good and riled up before Caterina charges in."
Freddie nodded and rushed off to relay the orders. While she waited she and Jeremiah strung their bows. While moving to the edge on their bellies and emptied their quivers by pushing the arrows point down into the soft soil.
"Thing Caterina and her lancers are in position?"
"Don't know, and that's the point isn't it?" Kat whispered back. "Either way we're running out of daylight."
"Then now?"
Kat simply nodded and stood bolt upright. "Evildoers and scum! Yes, you! The devil is coming to collect your souls tonight!"
Drawing her bow to her ear she let the string roll off her fingertips. Snap! The arrow flew true and with a wet thwack it sunk into the neck of a fat balding man who fell to the ground kicking, blood frothing at his mouth as he shouted a silent scream.
Jeremiah released his arrow a fraction of a second after Kat's and his slammed into the chest of a twentysomething woman who was trying to raise her bow to shoot back.
The leader and a tall brute of a man wearing the tattered remains of a business suit flipped them the bird and started shouting orders to organize the eater band.
Kat and Jeremiah were able to drop four more as the eaters assembled into a loose group. They held their spears over the top of their stop sign shields. Kat shot again. This time her arrow struck one of the shields and with a ping! the shaft flew harmlessly to the ground.
"Kill! Kill! Kill! It's us or them, so into the pot they go!"
Kat took careful aim and her last arrow sailed over a shield and into the eye of an eater. The eaters screamed in frustration and anger. Never before had they dealt with food who fought back so well.
The thundering of hooves turned their attention away from the two archers to see a dozen galloping horses topped with steel-clad riders holding deadly lances at their own unarmored torsos.
Several threw down weapons and began to run. Kat drew her sword and slid her round shield in front of her and charged towards the now chaotic mass of eaters.
The lances sounded like firecrackers as they sunk deep into their targets and then broke. The cavalry charged through the mass then reigned and out went the swords, machetes, and axes of the lancers and they charged in for a second attack.
Kat slammed her shield into the leader knocking him off balance. He swiped at her with his weapon. A cleaver tied to a six-foot pole making it very similar to their own halberds.
She deflected the attack with her shield and swiped at him with her sword which was blocked by her opponent's shield, a yellow left turn sign.
"Who do you think you are bitch!" He demanded through wheezing breath.
"Judge, jury, and executioner!" Kat said as she pushed is cleaver attack away leaving his chest open and vulnerable which she sunk her blade deep into the flesh, then a quick slash across the neck to finish him.
The battle ended almost as quickly as it started, and the mercy strokes took even less time. None of her people had been injured, though they did have to put a horse down that had broken its leg in the melee.
Kat approached the prisoners and sheathed her sword before unbuckling her helm and holding it under her left arm. Two of the dismounted lancers drew their knives and cut the women free.
"I am Kat Donovan and this is my second in command Jeremiah Wallace. You are safe now."
Jeremiah removed his helm and bowed his head, "ladies."
The dark-skinned woman sat up rubbing her wrists, "Monica Laforge. Are you folk Iowans?"
"No," Kat replied. "Jeremiah and I are from Milwaukee, and the rest of the Outfit is from everywhere between here and Chicago."