Zen's War: Captivity

They had continued down the frontage road alongside Interstate 10. They had stopped at an old rest stop so that they could get a little shade and recharge their batteries. This had also given them an opportunity to eat some coyote. It was either that or starve to death. Zen had witnessed people starve to death during the six-month period during which time the nuclear fallout had blocked out the sun. Needless to say, he had not been anxious to suffer that fate. At least they were eating coyote, and were not forced to become cannibals. That fate he had been forced to undergo during that six-month nuclear winter. He had tried to forget those memories, but that was no easy task. Thankfully he had not had to take a life in order to survive. He had unfortunately had to eat a corpse. At first it had disgusted him, but when faced with death difficult choices have to be made.

The rest stop was a typical one. There was a parking lot and a small building that contained a male and female restroom. Because there was no running water the restrooms were basically worthless, other than serving as semi-suitable shelters. To the side of this building was another smaller one that contained several vending machines. These of course didn’t work because there was no electricity. One was a snack machine that said Frito-Lay on the side of it. The snack machine had long since been ransacked, leaving nothing behind. The same was true for the two soda machines.

It was mid-to-late afternoon judging from the sun’s placement in the western sky. Their entire group sat around a picnic table covered by the shade of a ramada. They sat around eating the little coyote they had and drinking the small amount of water that Father Valencia had provided. They each took a sip of the extremely warm water from the jug Father Valencia had in his wagon. There was no water for the horses to drink. If they had given water to the horses there might not be enough for them to drink. The two horses looked incredibly malnourished due to their emaciated appearance. It looked as if they wouldn’t last much longer. Zen had eaten horse before, but these two horses didn’t have enough meat on them to be worth eating.

“I’m so sick of eating this tasteless coyote meat,” Hector said with a sneer.

“Well, it’s better than being reduced to cannibalism,” Zen responded in a sarcastic tone.

Derek looked at Zen with a repulsed look. “You actually ate people. You never told us that,” he said.

“There were a lot of things I did during the war that I haven’t told you about. I did things that I’m not proud of, but they were things I had to do to survive,” Zen said, with an aloof stare.

“At least you never had to kill anyone,” Colonel Krakowski commented, with a mouth full of coyote. “There’s nothing harder than having to take another life.”

“It didn’t seem to bother you when you killed that Nocturne earlier,” Pablo said. Pablo was a man of few words, but when he did speak his words were usually quite insightful.

“That was different. Just as in war, it was either kill or be killed. It is easier to kill in self-defense, then it is to kill simply for the sake of killing. I take that back. The first time you take a life it does bother you, even though they are trying to kill you. The second bothers you also, but by the time you take a third life it’s almost like killing a fly,” the Colonel said, stoically.

“I don’t understand you. At first you say how hard it is to take another life, and then you compare killing a human to killing a fly. That’s pretty contradictory,” Pablo responded.

“Take it as you will. If you were ever a soldier you would understand,” Colonel Krakowski said.

“That’s probably true. Thankfully I’ll never have to understand,” Pablo said.

After that no one spoke. Pablo and Colonel Krakowski’s conversation had put quite a damper on the mood of the group. As they sat at the table they could hear the sound of horses galloping from off in the distance. None of them paid much attention to the sound, continuing to eat what little food they had. Aurora was the first to see where the sound was emanating from. Coming from the west along I. 10 Aurora spotted three figures on horseback. As they came closer she could slowly discern details of the trio that was approaching. The three men were all wearing black leather jackets and slacks. It was then that Zen also noticed the three men on horseback. Father Valencia was the next to notice, and he looked at them with fear in his eyes. Two of the men had red hair, and one seemed to be Native American. The two redhaired men were Larry and James Jenson. Larry had a bushy handlebar mustache, while his younger brother James was clean-shaven. The third man was probably part Apache, judging from his high cheekbones and brown skin.

“Be on guard. These men are not to be trusted. They are the same men who stole from me before. I don’t know how they found us,” Father Valencia said under his breath.

From the rest stop they could see the men coming. They all hoped that the three men would continue east and not bother them. These were the highwaymen that Father Valencia had described earlier. They were men who had no morals, and felt no guilt or remorse. They were predators seeking out prey.

It was then that their worst fears were realized. Just as they were about to pass by, one of the men happened to glance to his right at the rest stop. Larry pulled on the reins of his horse, bringing his horse to a stop. The two other men also stopped their horses. Larry pointed at the group with a hand covered with a black leather glove. As he pointed he said something to James, who was to his left. Both James and the dark complexioned man then looked over at the rest stop as well. The interstate was level with the ground of the rest stop. The only thing separating the rest stop from the interstate was about ten feet of dirt with a few tufts of grass interspersed throughout. There was also an off-ramp, but it was so cracked and cratered that it was basically useless. Larry who was the first to have spotted them spoke to James, who said something in response, then all three of them turned right and galloped across the dirt towards the rest stop, the horses hooves stirring up dust as they went.

The three highwaymen wore wide brim black cowboy hats. Larry had a large machete that hung from his belt on his left hip, and a revolver on his right hip with a long thin barrel. Zen recognized that the gun was a .357 Magnum. The only reason he recognized the gun was because he had seen it in the movie Dirty Harry with Clint Eastwood, so many years ago. Larry was the first to speak.

“Well, if it isn’t Padre Valencia. I thought we’d seen the last of you,” he said, as he rode forward, then spit out a brown glob of chewing tobacco.

“I see that you haven’t given up your nasty habit,” Father Valencia commented. Tobacco in all its forms was extremely difficult to find. Most of the tobacco was grown in Confederate territory, and since there was so little trade conducted between the Confederacy and the Revolucionarios, very little was available.

“Don’t intend to neither,” he answered.

“Well, that’s the beauty of free will. You can either choose redemption or damnation. God gives every human the opportunity to choose. It seems as though you have chosen the latter,” Father Valencia responded, as the three men reached the table, bringing their horses to a halt.

“If I wanted to hear a sermon I’d go to church,” he said sarcastically, then spit again within half a foot of the picnic table. “But, as you can probably guess, I’m not really the churchgoing type.”

As Larry and Father Valencia had been exchanging words, James had been gazing intently at Aurora like a hungry wolf. Aurora who was sitting next to Father Valencia at the table noticed the man’s lecherous gaze. When she noticed the man’s gaze she quickly looked away.

“I have nothing more for you and your men to take. You’ve already taken everything of value that I have,” Father Valencia stated.

“Now who said we were going to take anything from you? Maybe we were just looking for some friendly conversation,” Larry said with a grin, revealing missing teeth.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Father Valencia said.

Larry kept grinning, while he continued to chew his tobacco. “I can’t get nothing by you. Alright give me all the food and water you’ve got and we’ll be on our way.”

“And if we refuse?” Father Valencia asked defiantly.

“Well, then we’ll be taking that fine looking woman you got there,” he said, then licked his lips.

“Like hell you will!” Zen interjected.

Larry looked at Zen, who appeared to be surprised by Zen’s response. “Judging by your reaction I would suppose that’s your woman.”

“I belong to no man, but I don’t see how that’s any of your business anyway,” Aurora said in her own defense.

Larry swung his right leg over the side of his horse, and stepped down on the ground. He then approached the table, his spurs jingling with each step. He wasn’t as tall as he had appeared on horseback, but was still nearly six feet tall, which wasn’t short by any means.

As the man approached the table Father Valencia pulled out both of his revolvers from beneath his robe, then aimed both guns from across the table at the man as he stepped forward. The truth was that he had no intention of actually using them. The guns weren’t even loaded, they were only for show. He had never actually fired a gun in his whole life, nor could he ever bring himself to kill someone.

Larry stopped and looked at him with a smirk and said, “Now, what do you think you’re gonna do with those?”

“If you don’t get back on your horse and continue on your way, I’ll be forced to kill you,” Father Valencia answered without flinching.

Zen and the rest of Father Valencia’s group had by this time gotten up from the table. They had gathered together to the left of the table. They were not completely out of the range of possible gunfire; still, it was better than being in the direct line of fire.

“I don’t believe you. You’re a man of God. I doubt you’re willing to risk your mortal soul,” he responded sarcastically.

“Take one step closer and see what happens.”

“Let’s get going. I’m not in the mood for a bloodbath,” James said, trying to be the voice of reason.

“Shut up James! We need food and water. We have no other choice,” he answered.

Colonel Krakowski stood there cursing himself for having left his shotgun in the wagon. Shotgun aside, he figured his next best weapon was words. “I think you better listen to Larry. There’s no need for bloodshed.”

“Who the hell asked you? This doesn’t concern you,” Larry responded.

“Those are my friends you’re threatening. It sure as hell does concern me,” the Colonel answered.

“I’m gonna ask one more time, and if I don’t get any results it’s gonna get ugly. Where’s the food and water?” he demanded.

“All we have is a couple cans of beans,” Derek said.

Hector suddenly had a look of disgust. “All we’ve been eating for the last two days has been nasty coyote meat, and you’ve had the beans all along. You lied to us. You said we didn’t have any more.”

“Hand them over!” Larry demanded.

“No!” Derek responded.

“What was that? It sounded like you said no.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Derek said confidently.

Larry then walked over to where Derek stood, while Father Valencia still had his twin revolvers trained on him. When he got to where Derek stood, he aimed his magnum directly at Derek’s head then cocked the hammer.

Pablo who stood beside Derek, grabbed Larry arm and they began to struggle. Zen quickly ran to intervene. Just as Zen was about to reach them, the gun went off. For a moment it was difficult to tell if anyone had been injured. Then he heard Pablo cry out, and saw him fall to the ground. It seemed in the struggle that the .357 Magnum had accidentally been fired. There Pablo lay with a gaping wound in the center of his chest. Blood began to flow forth from the wound causing a pool of blood to begin to form on the ground. Zen knelt down and touched the side of his neck to feel a pulse, but there was none. He had died almost instantly.

“I didn’t mean to kill him. It was his fault. He shouldn’t have interfered,” Larry said, not accepting responsibility for Pablo’s death.

“Let’s get out of here. In case there’s Revolutionarios around,” James said.

Aurora stood there in shock at what had just transpired. It happened so quickly that no one had time to react. Since the war she had not seen anyone killed, aside from the Nocturne. Hector and Derek stood there equally as deeply in shock as Aurora. Colonel Krakowski was the only one who did not seem to be in shock. Instead of being in shock, he was incredibly angry. He walked over to Larry and punched him square in the nose. As Larry fell to the ground, his wide brimmed cowboy hat fell off, and his gun fell to the ground with a clink. Colonel Krakowski continued to punch him mercilessly. James and the other man who had come with Larry did not look like they had any intention of helping him. Instead, they pushed their spurs into the side of their horses and took off east down the interstate and never looked back.

Colonel Krakowski’s fists started to become bloodied. Larry continued to struggle as his mouth filled with blood. Derek bent down and grabbed the gun, then emptied out the bullets. He then swung his backpack to his side and put the bullets in one pocket and the gun in another.

Father Valencia threw down the two revolvers, got up from the table then ran to pull the Colonel off of the man. When Father Valencia reached the Colonel, he grabbed under both arms and attempted to pull the Colonel away. When his attempt was proven futile, due to Colonel Krakowski’s superior strength, Zen begrudgingly ran to Father Valencia’s aide. With their combined strength they were able to remove him. Though he just as well would have liked to see him suffer for what he had done, Zen did not consider it their responsibility to punish him.

“You’re lucky they pulled me off of you; otherwise, you’d be dead,” the Colonel said, then spit at him, as he lay bleeding on the ground.

“Thank you for saving my life,” Larry said. He almost certainly had a broken nose, and was almost unrecognizable, due to his face being covered in blood.

“Believe me, it wasn’t because I wanted to. It was the principle of it,” Zen commented. “Now, get the hell out of here before we let the Colonel finish you off.”

Larry got from the ground, while blood dripped from his face. In the chaos his horse had been spooked and had galloped away. He was now completely on his own. He left the rest-stop, walked onto the frontage road and continued east not once looking back.