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her.

She looks to Lynn as if looking for an answer. She appears to be somewhere in her twenties and at a loss as to what to do. Lynn looks back at her and nods her head; both in reassurance and that she should indeed come along with us.

“Okay, sir, thank you,” she says in a shy voice after a moment’s pause and glances over at her late husband lying in the sun.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of him and give him decent honors,” I say but with a feeling that our time line is slipping away. More time spent here is less time we’ll have today down south. “What’s your name miss?”

“Kathy,” she responds.

“And what’s your name young man?” I ask directing my question at the boy anxiously clutching his mom but peering out around her waist.

“Robert,” he answers.

“Well, I have a son named Robert as well. He’s back at the airfield waiting for us,” I say with a smile. He smiles timidly back.

“What do you think we should do with them?” I say turning my attention back to Lynn and nodding at the captive men.

“Shoot ‘em,” she says with passion and anger in her voice. I would have expected that answer from Lynn. She experienced a similar horrific incident in her past. As a matter of fact, I would expect that answer from any woman having had to face such ugliness. That kind of anger just does not dissipate. I give her the sideways look of ‘really!?’

“Okay, just the left testicle,” she adds after seeing my look and knowing inside the both of us that we cannot outright shoot anyone we’ve captured.

Well, I would make an exception for the night runners but, although anyone may think differently, it is awfully hard to actually coldly shoot anyone unarmed that you have captured. I do feel a sickness inside that makes me want to, for a moment, take her up on her suggestion.

“We’ll see,” I say stepping over, with Lynn walking just behind my right shoulder, to the men whose future manhood is in serious question.

“Anything to say for yourselves?” I ask the group with disgust, gazing at each of them. Each of their eyes turns downward as my eyes focus on them. Yeah, you should feel ashamed.

“We didn’t mean anything,” one of them finally says although his eyes remain glued to the gray pavement in front of him. “We weren’t going to hurt them.”

“Explain why she was trembling in fear with a handgun then! Explain how her husband is laying on the ground over there! Go ahead, tell this young lad why his dad isn’t going to be there for him! Didn’t mean anything my ass!” I say quietly yet with emphasis and hear Kathy begin sobbing quietly behind me. Sometimes I just don’t think about what I’m saying, I think regretting those words were said within her hearing.

“Any of you have knives? Raise your hand higher if you do.” I ask the humbled group. Most raise their hands.

“Good. You four,” I say picking out four of the strongest looking, “go pick up that man and follow us. Lynn, detail two to cover them.”

“Yes, sir,” she says lapsing back into her professional form as the four pick themselves up and walk to the dead man with two members of Black Team to the rear and side covering them.

“Would it be a fitting place under those trees?” I ask Kathy. She blinks her tears away, looks over to the trees indicated, and nods. It does seem a peaceful place sheltered by the trees.

“The rest of you over to those trees and start digging,” I say eyeing them carefully, not expecting them to bolt due mainly to my outright shooting of their leader. I see the abject obedience and low esteem written across their faces and in their eyes. “One grave and make it snappy!”

“What about Joe?” One of them asks looking over to where their former leader lies by the evaporating pool of blood circling his head and running in lines along the uneven pavement.

“He stays where he lies,” I say. I don’t have the stomach or time.

“What about us? Are you going to shoot us?” The same man asks with fear in his voice.

“I haven’t decided yet. Compliance will certainly be in your favor,” I say trying to keep the balance of uncertainty and hope in each of them. Knowing their fate, whether for good or bad, will cause a reaction of some sort on their part. Knowing they will die for sure will cause them to find a way to flee or attack knowing they have nothing to lose. Letting them know they may live and giving them a semblance of hope will keep them docile and doing what you want. Off balance and indecisive, that is what I want them to feel.

“Red Team, keep a moving perimeter about us as we move over to the trees and notify the others at the airfield that all is in hand and well,” I say in the radio.

“Roger sir,” I hear McCafferty respond.

The group of men, and I use the term loosely, are sweating furiously by the time they finish digging a large enough hole in the ground. The temperature is climbing as the morning progresses and the sun makes its way higher into the clear, blue sky. The trees here provide some shelter but it becomes warm nonetheless, the lack of a breeze is stifling. The smell of freshly dug up earth fills the air as Robert’s dad is lowered into the five foot hole, seventeen men can dig a hole pretty quick, even in this hard packed earth. I am not really a good one for words for these times so I ask everyone to say a prayer in their own fashion with a moment of silence.

Red Team is still keeping a small perimeter and I ask them to recover the guns dropped by the marauders — a much better word for them than men. They return carrying a variety of weapons with them, mostly hunting rifles, shotguns, and handguns. I have the marauders stand and searched without finding any additional guns; they only have their now dulled knives with them.

“Are we going to get those back?” Asks the one man questioning earlier, referring to the guns and now fairly sure we are not going to annihilate them. At least he could think; I mean, who would search someone a while after being captured if we were just going to shoot them down. Why not just do it?

“Nope,” I answer.

“Are you going to shoot us?” He asks.

“Most likely not.”

“You’re just going to leave us here defenseless?”

“Should’ve thought about that before,” I say not having the least ounce of remorse for them. This new world, if we ourselves live long enough to keep mankind going, does not need these types around to foster or bring about their kind of thinking. The kind that thinks bullying women or forcing them is okay. And that goes for a large variety of actions. We really need to foster morality and, not only the ability to know right from wrong, but to act in that manner. Harmony with our environment and peace with those around us. Hopefully this new age, which will be a while in the making considering how few of us there are left, will have that facet to it. This time, we can hopefully do it right.

“You there,” I say pointing to the one I thought I saw some uneasiness in with prior our intervention.

He is a strong looking young man with a medium build either in his late teens or just out of them with short black, tightly curled hair. His dark eyes and face turn towards me with a look of fear and dread.

“How do you feel about what happened?” I ask sweeping my hand in the general direction of where they had Kathy and her son cornered.

“I didn’t like it at all, sir,” he answers lowering his head and then looking back into my eyes. I perceive no deception in them or with him.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” I ask further.

“Well, I really didn’t know what to do. I was worried they’d turn on me,” he answers. The other marauders direct quick, dark looks in his direction.

“What’s your name?”

“Kenneth. And I’m really sorry ma’am,” he says directing this last to Kathy.

“Can we go with you? Will you take us with you? We’re really sorry too lady,” the other man with all of the questions pipes up and asks.

“Not a chance in hell. Now all of you get the fuck out of here before I change my mind about everything. If I see you again, you die!” I give him my answer in no uncertain terms. “Kenneth, you can stay and go with us if