Free Captives by Jill Williamson Page A

radio clicked. “Ten four, Jackrabbit. This is Thunder Cry. How are you this fine afternoon? Over?”
    “Where you been, Thunder Cry? I’ve been waiting at the bird’s nest for a while now. Over.”
    “Why you waiting?”
    That was a strange question. “Omar said you have fire to trade.”
    “Who told you that? We’ve barely got enough for ourselves.”
    Levi gritted his teeth. “Omar said you called him.”
    Static. “I haven’t talked to your brother in over a month.”
    Levi closed his eyes.
What are you up to, Omar?
    “You still there, Jackrabbit?”
    “I’m hearing gunfire over in Glenrock,” Levi said. “Going to go take a look.”
    “Let me know what you find.”
    “Will do. Over and out.” Levi tossed his two-way radio into his cart and started the ATV. The mile-and-a-half trek down the mountain had never seemed so far. He wanted to take the shortcut past the Safe Lands, but he’d do his village no good if he were captured. Every minute was agony to him. The men couldn’t be target shooting. There wasn’t enough ammo for sport.
    He steered onto the village road, and the fresh dual-axle tracks in the dirt made him push the ATV even faster. Levi veered onto the waterwheel trail so he could come around the back of the village.
    He parked at the river. The only sound was the hydro-generator puttering away. He grabbed his rifle and ran up the hill through the forest, darting past trees and over moss and mushrooms, cutting across the trail’s switchbacks. As the hill carried him higher, his legs grew weak, forcing him to slow down.
    Something lay across the path before him. A body. He sprinted toward it and knelt beside the form of a man. Elder Sam, Naomi’s father, dead, a pistol still clutched in his hand. His body was matted with grass and dirt and looked to have rolled down the incline. Levi’s mind screamed, knowing this was real, yet at the same time certain only nightmares contained such horror. His pulse thudded in his head like drums.
    As if someone else were controlling him, his hands tugged the gun from Elder Sam’s hand and checked it for ammunition. Empty. He tucked it into the back of his pants anyway.
    “I’ll come back for you, Elder Sam.” Levi crept further up the hill. As he neared the village square, he found three more bodies, fallen in the woods: Elder Mark, Elder Devin, and Elder Michael. All had been shot. All were out of ammo. At least it appeared they had died fighting.
    Levi also found Grazer, Mason’s dog, lifeless near a tree. The mutt had been incredibly friendly—why would someone have shot him?
    He left the dog and took off through the forest toward his house. Levi’s family home stood on the far side of the square. He went in through the back door and made his way to the front of the house, checked all the bedrooms. No one home.
    He ran out the front door and scanned the area. A body lay on the ground halfway between him and the sick house.
    Papa Eli.
    Levi sprinted across the grass and fell to his knees beside his great-grandfather. Papa Eli, founder of Glenrock and the oldest living member of the Elias tribe, lay on his stomach in the grass. The back of his white T-shirt was coated in blood. Levi set down his rifle. “Papa Eli?” He tucked in the old man’s arm and rolled him over. The grass that had been underneath him was red and wet. So much blood. The bullet had passed through at an angle, leaving a hole in Papa Eli’s shoulder. Or maybe the bullet had entered from the front and passed out the back. Mother would know.
    Mother!
    Levi wanted to find his mother, his father, his brothers. Help Papa Eli. Find out who’d done this and —
    Papa Eli wheezed in a deep breath. His eyes flashed open, wide and bloodshot, then rolled around in their sockets before fixing on Levi. Recognition softened the look of pain on the old man’s face. His voice came out in a raspy whisper. “Didn’t get you?”
    “No, sir.” Levi fought to keep his voice steady.