The Crucible (Part 3)

The story of how Rosie and her brother ran afoul of the people at Crucible spills out of her mouth. On the morning The Fall occurred she and Landon had woken up much to find their family all dead. They did as I did, buried their family, and then set out to figure out what this horrible thing was that happened to the world.

They lived in Smithberg which is the largest city closest to our little country town. Rosie said Smithberg got really bad, really fast. Those left behind were stealing and burning down everything, it was too dangerous to stick around. They found a highway leading out of town and started walking.

Two days later, a group of people came out of the woods along the road they were walking and jumped them. The group of people told Rosie and her brother that they were taking them back to their camp called Crucible and they would test them and see if they were strong enough to join their group.

When they got to Crucible they were tossed in a pit to keep them from running off. The third day there Rosie managed to escape when she was let out to do work around the camp. She managed to make a break for it and got away from her pursuers in the woods. Ever since then she had been scouting and looking for a way to get back to rescue her brother.

I pull her slingshot out of my pocket and toss it to her. “Where in the world did you find that?” I ask.

“I found a treehouse way back in the woods from a house,” she said, “it looked like the kind a couple kids built as a summer project. It was a good place to hide because it is hard to see until you get right up under it. I found the slingshot among the stuff the kids kept there.”

Before I even know why I am saying it, I tell Rosie, “I will help you save your brother.”

Hobbs, who apparently has taken a liking to Rosie now that she isn’t trying to kill me, brushes up against her side and a soft happy purr rolls from his slender frame.

“This is Hobbs,” I tell Rosie as she scratches his head and his purring gets louder. I tell her all about how Hobbs and I came to meet and the adventures we have been on.

“Wasn’t Hobbs a tiger in the comic strip?” Rosie asks.

“Yes, but I figured the chances of finding a tiger are pretty low so I might as well have gone with the name while I had the chance to use it on a cat.”

Rosie’s face gets serious again, “Do you really mean it, will you help me rescue Landon?”

“Of course, my dad taught me to always be a man of my word,” I reply.

We decide to spend a few hours spying on the camp from the ridge to see if we can work out a plan. There seem to be about ten people milling around the camp. Most of them are men but there are a couple of women. Rosie points out the pit where Landon is held right in the center of camp.

The best plan we decide is to create some type of distraction to lure most of the people away from the camp before we sneak in. Rosie and I reach the same conclusion as we both turn and look at Hobbs. He tilts his head quizzically as if sensing something is up.

“Do you think you can get him to do it?” Rosie asks.

It sounds strange but over our weeks together bonding we have developed an unspoken understanding. Down in the camp I had noticed there were some rabbits freshly killed and waiting to be skinned.

“Get the rabbits, Hobbs old buddy,” I tell him as we peek back down on the camp.

Hobbs stalks off through some trees heading down into the camp. I motion for Rosie to be ready to go as soon as Hobbs does his thing. The minutes creep by until I notice Hobbs bound into the camp, snatch the rabbits that are hanging up, and race into the trees on the other side.

Disbelieving shouts resound all around the camp. People swoop up guns and take off in pursuit of the unexpected bandit. I don’t worry too much about Hobbs, he has proven how resourceful he is and these woods have become his home.

Rosie is already up and running down the hill into the camp. I notch an arrow into the bow as we move. Rosie heads straight for the pit, but from one of the tents along her path a man emerges and draws a pistol from his belt.

Before he can fire, I release an arrow and watch as it hits the back of the hand holding the gun. The arrow pierces his hand and knocks the pistol free. He lets out a yell and starts to swing his arm at Rosie, but I am faster and have already sent another arrow at him. It catches him in the calf and he goes down.

Rosie darts past him and he swings around to look at me with rage in his eyes. I have another arrow drawn back and aimed at his face. The idea of taking another arrow drives the fight from him and he collapses back onto the ground and passes out from the pain.

Rosie has reached the edge of the pit and turns around upset. “He is not down there,” Rosie yells back at me.

A sound to our left grabs our attention and from around the corner of a tent a boy walks around to see us. He lets out a startled, “Rosie?”

She looks at the boy who very much doesn’t look like he is a prisoner. “Landon?” Rosie says with just as much surprise.