Rise

Chapter Seven: Close Encounters

The air was already hot and dry, even though it was barely morning. The trio had risen just before dawn and continued their trek across the plains. To Matt's dismay, the scenery did not change at all, and remained the pale brown sea with dismal vegetation. He figured they were nearing the edge of his father's map, as the last landmark on the westward side had been an old husk of a giant airbus and they had passed that a half hour ago. Matt had considered searching it for a change of pace but had decided against it. They needed to move as fast as they could and searching a wreck that was probably already picked clean would have been a waste. 

The brown parchment the map was neatly drawn on had one last westward marking but it had been smudged out, now only a black stain. Matt wondered why his father had decided to wipe it from the record, wondered what had stood there, wondered what stands there now. His bearing would take him straight to the smudge anyways, so he figured it wouldn't be too long before he found out. If his orienteering was as good as he hoped, they would arrive after about a day's journey. Then he didn't know what they would do. The edges of the map would be passed and he guessed they would just keep heading west, hope to find someone, or another major settlement. He tried not to think about what would happen if they found nothing. 

It was then that the sound of gunshots tore Matt's gaze from his map. Gripping his walking stick tightly, he tensed up, his eyes darting all around. Flint began to growl softly and sniff the air while Emma began running up the hill ahead of them. Matt wanted to call out but stayed his voice, not wanting to draw attention to them. He didn't know where the gunshots were coming from and did not want them to be directed at his party.

Breaking into a near sprint, Matt chased after Emma, fearing her boldness would get her killed. A cloud of dust trailed behind him as his heavy footfalls carried him up the barren hill, the sun filtering through the dried branches of the deathly tree perched atop it. Matt caught her as she neared the hill's crest, gripping her shoulder tightly, trying to slow her down.

"Emma!" Matt breathed, trying not to raise his voice above a whisper. She ignored him, trying to shrug him off as she headed up the hill.

Tearing free from his grip, Emma sprinted the rest of the way and pinned herself behind the trunk of the tree, peeking out slightly. As she gazed out upon whatever scene was unfolding, Matt watched as her face fell and she began to sag against the bark, her fingers visibly tearing at the wood. He quickly joined her behind the tree, fitting himself behind her so that he too would not be visible. Flint flattened himself against the ground near them, his silver fur making him look like an exposed rock in the ground.

Matt leaned out, seeing with his own eyes the event unfolding. More gunshots rang out as a man, his head wrapped in a bandanna, fired rounds into another man who had been kneeling on the ground, his hands in the air. A red mist burst into the air as the bullets tore through him, spattering the ground with blood. There were sceams of terror as a duo of men, similarly garbed as the first, began to break into a carriage, the donkey that had been pulling it lying dead on the earth.

Wood splintered off at all angles as the screams ceased, replaced by a vile laughter emanating from the men. The first bandit, presumably the leader as he carried the largest rifle, stowed his weapon and made his way over to the carriage, opening the east-facing door. Reaching inside, his face contorted into a grotesque smile as he yanked a young girl out, her face streaked with tears and her body trembling uncontrollably. She couldn't have been older than 14.

Matt's fingers began to make their way towards the revolver holstered at his side as he watched the scene, anger welling within him. He imagined himself sprinting down the hill, the revolver in his right hand and his walking stick in his left, blade exposed and ready to drink the blood of the criminals. Wishing he could leap from cover and save the girl, Matt watched on, afraid to look away.