Chronicles 1: Revenge

Chapter 16 - Escape

"I will kill them all." Said Lincoln, no emotion on his face.

"And I will help you." Responded Mackeroy, a bottle in his hand. "But first, the people we still have alive, we need them safe. And, as long as I am here, it isn't safe."

"Then what do you propose? That you would leave us?" Questioned Lincoln, a surprising amount of anger in his tone.

"No, but they can't know where I am. We could all go somewhere else for a while." Answered Mackeroy, taking a sip of the bottle.

"Where?" Asked Lincoln, lighting a cigar.

"Where, indeed. Have the men pack the bags. I'll lead you there." Answered Mackeroy, corking his bottle.

The remaining men packed up what little was left, a few pieces of meat, a couple of blankets and tents, the rifles and tools, and themselves onto the few living muffalo. Lincoln, Abigail, Mackeroy, Obonte, and Jameson road north, late in the night, and were gone long before the White Marshal Corp returned to search for Mackeroy, and the rain hid their tracks.

They rode north, through thistle and thimble, up hills and across streams on old bridges, finally arriving in an abandoned mining town in the Porsoci Mountains. Snow fell, and wind froze the skin, but they would survive this, at the least.

They pitched their tents, gave blankets to Abigail and the rest, and set up a fire with the scraps of wood they had. That night, about one and a half pounds of meat had to feed five people. But, they were safe. Cold, starving, yes, but safe. Safe enough for Lincoln and Mackeroy to begin to plan their revenge.

In Mackeroy's tent, away from the sleeping Abigail, Lincoln and Mackeroy discussed their options.

"If we can destroy their stronghold, we can kill their leaders." Said Lincoln, smoking another cigar.

"We would need one hundred years to breach its lower walls, and even then we would die before we got to the stairs. I think it would be much more realistic to simply go for smaller targets, first." Responded Mackeroy.

"Even then, we don't have the manpower." Added Lincoln.

"We could hire mercenaries." Responded Mackeroy, pulling out a bag of silver from his pocket. "Someone oughta be willing to fight for this."

"It's certainly an option. For now, we need to plan. I say we hit them where it hurts: Their supply lines." Said Lincoln, finishing his cigar and lighting another.

"I concur."

As their conversation was nearly finished, William walked in. He had remained mostly silent for the past few days after he awoke.

"I'm leaving for a while. I don't know when I'll be back." He said, a reminiscing look on his face.

"Sure, go ahead! Leave us here without your 'wonderful protection!' A lot of good it did my wife." Said Lincoln sarcastically.

He left the tent and packed up his things, leaving on his muffalo.

Meanwhile, in Abigail and Lincoln's tent, Abigail slept soundly, but her dreams lay on her mother, and the men who took her. Her father came in soon after the meeting was over, and he laid next to her, hugging her while she slept.

"For you, I would give the world, if only I had it to give." He muttered before falling asleep.