Free Captives by Jill Williamson Page B

“Who shot you?”
    “Enforcers.” Papa Eli grimaced. “Killed our men … Took our women and young ones.”
    Ice pooled in Levi’s heart, sending chills down every vein. “To the compound?”
    “Afraid so.” He reached out and patted Levi’s thigh. “Thought we’d be safe … Thought they’d leave us alone … We were wrong.
I
was wrong. You have to … get them back.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Papa Eli slapped Levi’s thigh the way he slapped the tabletop to get everyone’s attention at mealtimes.
    “I hear you loud and clear, sir. I won’t let you down.”
    “Good. Good.” He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.
    “What can I do?” Levi asked. “Mason and Mother are the doctors. I don’t know how to help—”
    “Don’t fret.” Papa Eli opened his eyes and focused on Levi. “My Hannah’s … gone … twenty years now.”
    Levi swallowed hard. “That’s a long time to be missing someone.”
    Papa Eli nodded slightly. “I was … looking forward … your wedding. That Jemma … a pretty girl. Kind too. You’re smart to grab … her.”
    Rage filled Levi’s chest at the idea of Jemma in the Safe Lands. “I’ll get her back, sir.”
    “I know.” He took a ragged breath. “And I’m going … leave you to it. Head to eternity … with my God and … my Hannah.”
    Tears flooded Levi’s eyes.
    Papa Eli patted Levi’s thigh again, this time much softer. “Good man. Lord knows best.” He closed his eyes. “Been with me all these …”
    Levi watched his great-grandfather’s face as the life left it. Levi fell back onto the grass, staring up at the hazy pine trees, wondering if Papa Eli’s soul were floating to heaven this very moment. His throat burned. His eyes burned too.
    No one had earned a proper burial more than Papa Eli. The man had outlived his wife and son. Survived the Great Pandemic and escaped the Safe Lands. Founded Glenrock as an answer to the Safe Land’s tyranny and governed the village thereafter with wisdom and grace, following the teachings found in the Bible he loved. Trained up three generations to follow in his footsteps.
    Was Levi truly the only one left? Papa Eli had said they’d taken the women and young ones—which meant Mason, Jordan, and Omar likely lay dead on the grass somewhere too.
    A fat drop of water struck Levi’s cheek. Summer storms were common, but as distant thunder crackled, Levi wondered if God had looked down on Glenrock and shed tears for the death of its people.
    Levi lay on the grass, letting the rain soak him, giving in to thetears, praying for help, for guidance, for sanity. The storm cloud passed quickly, and Levi decided he too should get moving. He pushed himself up and went looking for survivors, his mind racing, trying to piece together the truth. Omar had lied to him about Beshup’s trade, and he couldn’t fathom why.
    Just when Levi thought he’d finished his tears, he found his father’s body. Elder Justin had been shot once in the forehead. Likely, he hadn’t suffered, which was some consolation.
    He found no survivors in the village. There were eighteen dead—thirteen elder men, four elder women, and little Sophie, who’d been only six. No sign of Jordan, Mason, or Omar.
    Levi couldn’t dig eighteen graves himself. But he couldn’t leave the bodies to the wolves, either. Over the next two hours, he moved the dead, including Grazer, to the square where he could keep an eye on them. He piled the weapons in the back of his cart. Then he decided to dig three graves in the cemetery: one for his father, one for Papa Eli, and one for Sophie.
    The digging took him well into the afternoon.
    Several times, the horror gripped him, and Levi lost himself in a fit of tears and rage, beating the shovel against a tree or the ground until finally the spade separated from the shaft.
    Once he’d buried the three and said a prayer, he sat down against a tree. His palms stung with blisters, and his arms ached. He nodded off once, told