Wilson Harp - EMP

A thick pillar of smoke rose from beyond the barricade. It looked like something was burning in the road not far on the other side of the bridge. As we drew near, we could hear an exchange of shouts and calls.

Buck and his boys had reached the bridge and huddled down behind the thick concrete that made up the culvert. Buck moved in a careful crouch up toward the barricade.

“Pat, over here.”

I turned to see Luke motion us over to the side of the road.

“Come on,” he said as we joined him. “There is a good spot near the river with plenty of cover.”

“What’s going on?” Dad asked as he followed Luke.

“A gang or something from the south. They said they had something to show the town. I don’t know what it was, but there was some terrible screams and one of the boys at the barricade fired the alert shots.”

“I heard the shots,” Dad said. “Woke me up. But then there was another shot and about a minute later Farrin went tearing past the house heading into town. He got the bell ringing.”

“Don’t know what the other shot was,” Luke said. “I just threw on my boots, grabbed my rifle and headed to the bridge.”

There was a fallen tree that rested against a larger tree near the river. Luke guided us to the location and pointed at the far side of the bridge.

“There they are,” he said. “Not even hiding behind cover.”

A group of men stood on the south side of the bridge. I guessed the closest was just over four hundred feet from me and the furthest maybe another twenty or twenty-five. Several of them looked over to where we positioned ourselves and smiled. All of them had rifles in their hands and at least two handguns hanging on their belt. They looked dirty and smelly, their clothes a mixed collection of whatever would be cool enough in the heat and yet rugged enough for outside living.

A tall one was yelled something up at the barricade. He pointed back at a wooden structure that smoldered and put up a ton of smoke. It looked like it was a stack of four or five tractor tires with something stuck in the middle.

“Dear God,” Dad said. “That’s a man they set on fire.”

“What?” Luke asked. “Is that what is burning?”

The tall man raised his rifle over his head and yelled something. He pointed back at the burning stack of tires and the other men with him cheered and laughed.

“I think it’s a threat,” Dad said. “They must want or need something from us.”

“I wonder—“

Luke’s question was cut short as the crack of a rifle shot pounded into my ears. I dropped to the ground as a barrage of gunfire thundered through the morning air. I looked up to see that both my Dad and Luke had taken shelter behind trees, their rifles ready to raise. My gun lay in the mud where I dropped it.

“Hold fire! Hold fire!” someone called from the bridge.

I looked over the fallen tree and saw the men who had been taunting and laughing at their murderous activities. They all lay unmoving in an area of the road that looked as if it had been painted the brightest red I had ever seen.

Dad and Luke were both swore under their breath as they hurried over to the bridge.

I stood shocked as I watched several men carefully walk down the bridge and examine those who lay still. Buck walked down and stared at the burning tires.

I picked up the rifle and walked slowly toward the gathered and animated group of men from Kenton. There were about forty at the bridge when I arrived and dozens more were coming down the road from town.

“Come on, David,” Dad said. “Let’s get home before your mother worries about what happened.”

Dad was angry about something. Probably the senseless waste of life. I was embarrassed by my reaction along the bank of the creek and wanted to find something I could help with.

“You go on, Dad. I want to see what I can do to help.”

He held his hand out and looked at the muddy rifle I held. I handed it to him and he took it without a word and started north along the road.

I walked through the jumbled crowd of men with guns until I came to the barricade. The men who were killed were being dragged off the road into a small grassy area. Buck seemed to be in charge of the clean up as he pointed at a body and then pointed where he wanted it placed.

Two men from Kenton were trying to move the burning pillar of tires. The stack of tires was on some sort of wheeled sled, but the heat from the burning rubber kept them from getting close enough to grab the handle.

“Do we know who that was?” I asked myself.

“Bill Ellison, from what I was told,” Luke said. He had come up beside me as I watched the horrific scene on the other side of the bridge.

“What?” I asked.

“You asked who was burning. Right?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize I had asked out loud.”

“I talked with one of the men who were at the bridge when these fellows showed up. They were pulling something with them, but it was covered with a large piece of canvas, like a drop cloth. When they stopped, they pulled it off and Bill was standing in the tires. He was beat up real bad and they had tied his hands in front of him and to the top tire. They had duct taped his mouth shut, too.”

“What happened?”

“The men asked if the town needed some entertainment. Then they wrapped the drop cloth all around Bill, poured a bottle of something on it, and lit him up. Charlie fired the warning shots in the air and those fellows just laughed and asked him if he wanted others to come and see. They seemed surprised when Farrin ran off the bridge and jumped on his motorcycle. They laughed as he pulled away. The men here wanted to go down and help, but those fellows lowered their rifles and told them to watch. The fire eventually burned enough of the tape off to let Bill scream. Charlie pulled up and fired a shot into his head. Likely spared him a few minutes of agony.”

“Those men didn’t fire back?”

“No, I think they were waiting till more people showed up. They could have killed everyone at the barricade when they first arrived, so I don’t think that was why they came.”

“If they weren’t going to fire on us, why bring guns and murder Bill?” I asked.

“To tell us they meant business,” Buck said.

I turned to see the grizzled hunter standing on the other side of the barricade.

“What business?”

“Were you close enough to hear?”

I shook my head and Luke grunted a “No.”

“That one I shot in the face, I asked him where Stacy and the girls were. He told me they were down in Thayer being treated like little queens,” Buck said. “That’s when I shot the jackass.”

“I don’t get it,” Luke said. “Why?”

“Because whoever is in charge down in Thayer, or wherever the girls are, was only interested in the question ‘Will they defend themselves?’ When his boys here don’t come back, he will have his answer and leave us alone.”

“You know that?”

Buck pulled out a cigarette and lit up as he looked at Luke.

“Yeah, I know that. Whoever is in charge down there sent some of his troublemakers up here to see what would happen. If they had made it back, they would be up here time and time again. Pushing us around, taking what they wanted. Any vehicles? Gone. Women and girls? Gone. Food? Gone. Medicine? Gone. If they knew we were too much of a bunch of daisy dancers to shoot them when they murdered one of our own in front of us, they would know they had us by the balls anytime they wanted anything.”

“Sounds like you have thought about this, Buck,” I commented.

“I have. When I was walking the woods looking for game, I thought a lot about what we might have faced on a day like today. When moron there mentioned the girls were back somewhere waiting for them, it let me know he answered to someone who had enough power to send him away. And since they brought Bill back from where he came from, it let me know whoever sent him wanted it to get personal.”