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“If I could have struck a deal with them that guaranteed some form of a restoration of our privacy—and by
our
I mean the people in our society who wish for it—I would have traded him, yes. But not if their intent was simply to kill him,” she admitted, knowing that a fight of the he said/she said sort with Ghosteye would have undermined her leadership.

“Did he know that?” William asked, folding his arms.

“I didn’t tell him, no,” she answered, her eyes flickering to Ghosteye, suspecting that Ramone did know and guessing who told him. “The point is that now, Ramone is gone.”

“Yes, and he’s probably in for it, if you ask me,” Ghosteye said, slumping to one side on his crutches. “We need to help him.”

William and Chance turned to Ghosteye, their mouths dropping open. They looked back at Bethany, shaking their heads. “No way,” Chance said. “Over half of us are dead. And I’m sure, almost one hundred percent sure, that they have over a hundred more trained soldiers, just waiting to kill the rest of us.”

“Actually, they have two thousand soldiers,” Bethany said, clasping her hands behind her back, beginning to pace in the small patch of dead grass, the nearest body a good thirty paces away. To their gaping faces, she added, “But we’d have to do some recruiting before approaching them, or figure out some very clever tactics.”

She looked up to see what their response to that was. Their expressions made her turn, in time to catch a fist to her cheek. “What the—” A burst of stars clouded her vision.

“That’s for not saving Ramone,” Blythe said, winding up to hit Bethany again, “And—whoa!” This time Bethany stopped her with a defensive block, turning it into a throw. The other woman slammed into the ground as Bethany let go of her arm.

“Don’t tell me what that one was for,” Bethany said, rubbing her cheek as she straightened.

“Bitch,” Blythe muttered, rolling to her knees.

“Thanks,” Bethany said, noticing that Ghosteye was trying to hide a smile. As were the others. “Didn’t look like he wanted to be saved,” she finished.

“There was enough bloodshed here that you could have simply added the bastard who took him,” the other woman said, standing and dusting off her behind. Her cheeks were puffy as though she’d been crying, her face pale like she’d been sick.

“The point is to restore our rights! What’s with the obsession? Who is Ramone, that the three of you follow him around like puppies? Like sheep?” Bethany asked, her temper flaring. She’d never been in command of so many soldiers and lost more than half of them in one battle. That was her fault. She hadn’t trained them. One part of her wanted to run away from this fact, the other wanted to regroup, restructure, and be a better commander.

Ghosteye shrugged. “We can’t explain it.” He looked between the college girl and Blythe, inviting them to contribute.

“I can’t, not really,” Marci said, looking away. She was holding her stomach now, like she might vomit any moment.

“Well, I for one loved him. Loved. You hear? He’s brilliant, and good, and honorable. Something none of you have ever been, particularly, you, Bethany. You were going to sell him, like you had that right,” Blythe said, fists clenched at her side. If she thought it would work, Bethany was sure the woman would punch her again.

William turned to leave, shaking his head. Bethany noted that he didn’t appear to be about to follow her orders. At that moment, a figure crested the hill coming from the direction of camp and ran toward their small group.

“Oh no,” William muttered, looking back at Chance. They exchanged a glance. Bethany had seen that look before. A mutinous one.

“Come quick!” the newcomer shouted, a boy, not more than twenty with a round face and a squat build—definitely not designed for distance running. He slowed to a trot as he drew nearer.

“What is it, Tad?” Chance asked, taking a few steps toward him.

“Can’t explain, just come, they’re here,” Tad said between gasps.

“Who?” Beth asked, a surge of concern and frustration rising in her throat.

Tad didn’t answer verbally, he simply turned, waved for them to follow and ran back the way he came.

“Guess we better follow him,” Ghosteye said, turning his crutches horizontally and beginning to do a run-hop, placing a little weight on his hurt foot. Beth noticed that the bandage was covered in twigs and dried leaves. He hurried away.

All at once, everyone broke into a run. There were others milling about the battlefield as well, closing the eyes of the dead, crying over the fallen. They noticed, rose, and followed. They’d all need to return soon with shovels and grave markers, and perhaps their prayers for those that were religious among them. Beth would see to it.

She swung her gun off her back and gripped the barrel as she ran, mentally preparing for another battle on a different front, hoping that wasn’t what the messenger was for. He didn’t seem alarmed, and surely he’d have conveyed that if it were so.

Beth ran up beside the boy, “Tad, is it? Tad, are these hostiles?”

He shook his head, breathing hard, “Don’t think so,” he huffed.

“Do they have guns?” she asked between breaths.

Again he shook his head.

Beth dropped back, slowing on the side of the rough trail until Chance was beside her. “He knows what a hostile is, right?”

“Probably,” Chance said.

“You know him, don’t you?”

Chance tilted his hand back and forth to indicate so-so, never slowing in his gallop.

Bethany grunted and fell in behind Chance.

Soon camp came into view. Beth slowed, waiting for Ghosteye to catch up to her. “Thanks for almost causing a mutiny,” she said when he hopped up.

“Anytime,” he answered with a cheeky smile.

“You’re lucky I still have a soft spot for you, otherwise…” she didn’t finish, letting his imagination fill it in.

“You’re lucky Ramone has so many fans,” Ghosteye said, pointing toward the north end of camp.

“What?” Beth asked. Then she saw them. Hundreds, no, more, perhaps a thousand, people wandering into camp, backpacks on as though they intended to stay, their faces old, young, and ages in between, all of them hopeful. “Who are they?”

“His followers,” Ghosteye said.

“They’ve been arriving since this morning,” Tad said, wiping sweat from his cheek. “They’re asking for Ramone.”

“So it worked,” Blythe said, stepping up beside Bethany.

“It worked for me. I’m not surprised,” Marci answered, appearing on the other side of Ghosteye.

“But, how’d they know we were here?” Bethany asked.

“Same way we knew,” Blythe answered, pursing her lips. “Not that you deserve them, or us, for that matter.”

“My message,” Ghosteye said with a hesitant grin. “My parting message to the world. They actually listened.”

“We have to go after Ramone, now, don’t we? Please?” Marci said. Ghosteye nodded and looked down at her. Marci continued, “If you won’t, Bethany, then I will.”

“Not that there’s a question, but I’m obviously going after him,” Blythe said.

“And me, of course,” Ghosteye said, taking Marci’s hand.

“If they’re his, do I really have a choice?” Bethany asked, feeling overwhelmed. What was she supposed to do with them?  Turn them into soldiers? Yes. She supposed that was it. Better soldiers. She would do better this time. She owed that to the dead lying vulnerable and cold up in that meadow.

THE END