Out of the Fire

Part 14 - Joe

It all happened so fast. Standing behind General Stuart while the recording of Keem instructing Geo to kill the Gra'am scouts played, Joe was distracted and mildly amused by the eruption of anger from the Carls. He didn't see Keem's move. His attention wrenched from the shouting Carls by the shock murder of Carl Jon, instinctively lunging for his cane he was hampered by the General's lifeless body collapsing into him, spraying blood into his face and spinning his only weapon to the floor. Still struggling with the General's body and scrambling to reach his cane, he was flung to the ground and pinned by three of Keem's soldiers.

With clarity from his adrenalin rush, Joe realising there was now no chance of escape, stopped struggling and relaxed his muscles to minimise any injury his capture may cause. His captors were obviously well trained and well briefed, they had Joe tied, gagged and his head bagged with efficient speed. His next impressions were of being rushed, half dragged, half carried through the building and roughly hoist onto one of their small cavalry horses. His feet were expertly tied into the stirrups then together beneath the horse's belly, his hands were loosely secured to something on the pommel. As the horse was led from stables, and into the rain at a trot, Joe had to grip the horse's mane tightly to remain upright. Trying, only partially successfully, to synchronise himself to the gait of the horse, he began to wish he had taken the opportunity, during some of his down time, to reacquaint himself with riding.

Although unable to see, it felt like they were riding uphill and that meant they were heading either East, South or some way in between. He figured if they soon encountered trees he would know. Finally settling into a sort of uncomfortable but acceptable Zen with the horse Joe began to review events. Disappointed with himself for not foreseeing the attack, but with the stoicism of the veteran, he wasn't about to fall into a depression over it. As far as he could tell, the operation was well executed, therefore planned and he was impressed that he hadn't heard a word spoken during the whole attack. Joe understood that he was being kept alive for a purpose and resolved to find out what that was before he made his escape. Escape! Joe had supreme confidence in his ability to escape but still, he hoped his captors only saw a man who needed a cane to walk and had no real idea of his capabilities.

The rain wasn't letting up and the bag over his head, now saturated was flapping back onto his face and beginning to affect his breathing, triggering bad memories. Having to bow and shake his head to free his breathing, the experience reminded him uncomfortably of interrogation training a lifetime ago. Unable to see, he was still able to feel and he especially felt the low branch that scraped across his face catching the hood, almost unseating him from the horse. The snagged hood dragged Joe back over the saddle but with a last desperate shake, he managed to free his head, leaving the hood tangled in the low branch.

Free to see at last, he discovered that his was the last horse in the group and that they were wending their way along a narrow, partially overgrown track, through a thick pine forest. The sounds of their passing were muffled by the rain and the thick layer of wet pine needles and with the dripping lichens hanging from every tree, the forest projected a primordial, even threatening appearance. Joe was sure now that they were riding Southwest into the wilderness between the sanctuaries and Fort Jones. His captors either didn't notice or didn't care that he was no longer blindfolded so Joe didn't enlighten them and being able to duck under branches was an improvement, but it also brought his other travails into the fore. His long legs and bare feet were tied into short stirrups on an undersized horse, the longer they rode the more his mind focused on the pain and the less he could concentrate on understanding the why of it all.

They rode for what seemed like hours and Joe was becoming delirious from the pain in his feet and injured leg. Even though their pace had slowed to a walk, every movement of the horse elicited an involuntary moan as he drifted in and out of conscienceless. The forrest eventually opened into a clearing and the troop halted in front of a small homestead. Joe was so out of it that he didn't notice until his feet were cut free and he slewed sideways and dropped into the mud. He was still clawing his way back into full consciousness as someone dragged him onto a low decked porch out of the rain and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor.