The Price of Freedom


Ehawee looks over at the lieutenant as she realizes just how many soldiers there are. "Wouldn't it be simpler to free the men first? We could do this more quickly. Although I guess so many people moving around would be more easily spotted, wouldn't they?"

He nods. "The only way to get all of your people safely away is to kill all of the soldiers. Do you think, once freed, that your warriors would simply walk away if all of these men were still sleeping innocently in their tents? More importantly, do you think they could do it quietly, or would they rather scream their revenge to the night sky?"

"They would not walk away, nor should they, but they would not be silent about taking their revenge." She shakes her head. "Sorry, I'm just...concerned that there are so many of them. It seems hard to believe that the two of us alone can succeed."

"We shall just have to be exceptionally ruthless," he says with a smile.

She frowns. "I suppose we will. There isn't really any other choice. We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for them," she adds, her tone getting a bit harder as she reminds herself of that. "I'll meet you in the middle, then."

The lieutenant melts into the darkness away from her, and Ehawee begins sneaking towards her starting point on the left. All too quickly, she stands before the first tent. She pauses for a moment, listening for any noise that might indicate the occupants are awake. Hearing none, she lifts the tent flap, and, thinking of how her father is dead at the hands of these people, grabs and twists one head, then the other, trying not to look at their faces too closely. It's easier that way. Two sickening cracks later and she's cleared her first tent.

She moves on to the next one, continuing to remind herself of what these men have done, and the deaths they have caused. She pictures her father, and thinks of how she will never see him again. And Magaskawee's father. And her pony, her wedding gift, that so bravely carried her into battle before being cut down. She feels tears start to form in her eyes again, but this time they aren't for the white men. And as she kills the next two men, she thinks to herself, "That was for my father. And that was for my grandfather." And she continues in this fashion, remembering a warrior for each man she kills, starting with those she knows are dead, then continuing with those who are injured, or whose fate is uncertain.

She is nearly halfway through her allotment of tents, when she senses that one of the men in the next tent is not asleep. She freezes, listening carefully and watching the tent, trying to determine if the man truly is awake, and what he might be doing. She sees the flap of the tent flutter, and then the soldier crawls out. She continues to hold still, hoping that he won't see her in the darkness, especially in her blue coat, and waits to see where he's going. The man doesn't appear to notice her, and stumbles toward the edge of camp, where he hauls his equipment out and begins to relieve himself. Telling herself that this shouldn't be any more difficult than killing the guards, Ehawee sneaks up behind him and breaks his neck, catching his body so that it doesn't make noise falling to the ground. There is one unfortunate complication, however. The man seemed unable to stop relieving himself during her attack, and she is now peppered liberally with her enemy's water.

Grimacing with distaste, she looks for someplace to conceal the body before returning to her grisly task. Unfortunately, on the prairie, there's simply not anywhere convenient to hide a body. She could drag the body behind a tent, but that would make noise. Lacking any other options, she decides to try lifting the body and carrying it to one of the tents she's already cleared, hoping the man doesn't weigh too much. The body feels strangely light to her, and she quickly and silently tucks it behind a tent. The camp remains quiet.

She sneaks back to the dead man's tent and picks up where she left off. She's clearing each tent more quickly now, her movements becoming more certain with practice, establishing an efficient routine. Her initial squeamishness is diminishing as well, as the dead men all start to run together in her mind...no longer anything more than obstacles to be dealt with.

After another half hour of grisly work, Ehawee's allotment of tents is cleared and the camp is unnaturally still. She stands numbly by the last tent for several moments, mentally exhausted by what she's been through. She scans the lieutenant's tents almost idly for him, not really caring just yet whether she finds him or not, but doesn't see him. The only sounds left on the prairie are those of her sleeping people. She stands there for a few minutes longer, still somewhat in shock over what she's had to do, then does her best to shake off this strange feeling of lethargy that's come over her.

Curious as to whether she finished ahead of the lieutenant, she moves silently to the last tent on his side, looking to see if the men inside are still alive. As she moves the tent flap back, she can see that the men are most assuredly dead. Their eyes are bulging hideously from their bright red faces and both men have scratch marks at their throats from their own hands. She steps back hastily upon seeing this, cold fear washing over her. She's never seen anyone die in such a fashion before...it looks as if the very life has been squeezed out of them. As she continues backing away from them, her eyes wide and her heart racing, she wonders what could kill in such a fashion. Suddenly, just breaking the men's necks doesn't seem like such a terrible thing after all.

"Hello, kitten," the lieutenant's purring voice says from behind her. "All done?"

Ehawee jumps a couple of feet at the unexpected sound and spins around with a small, choked-off cry. She takes a couple of steps back, her eyes still very wide. "What...what did you do to them?" she asks, her voice shaking slightly as she indicates the tent.

He smiles at her reaction. "I killed them, kitten. It was part of the plan, remember?"

"I know that," she says, looking a bit irritated as she regains some of her composure, feeling embarrassed by her reaction. "I meant, how did you do that to them? I've never seen anyone die in that manner before."

"Spirit Medicine," he says with a grin. "Now, better free your people and get them away before the sun rises. You want to get them as far away from here as possible. I'll follow along, just in case."

"Of course. But who is there to follow us now? Isn't everyone dead?"

"Everyone here, now, yes. But this troop is expected somewhere else in a few days, and they'll be missed."

She nods, and heads quickly for where the men are being held. She approaches the area with caution, unsure as to whether there is a guard there, and if he's still alive. Her instincts serve her well. There are two men standing guard, with the added misfortune of facing in her direction. Behind them, her tribesmen are all chained together, then chained to a large pole driven into the prairie. She looks for any large rocks nearby that she might be able to throw at the guards, but finds none. She does still have the pistol she took from the first man she killed, though. She looks around the camp again, trying to determine if there are any other whites still left alive...whites who would be woken up and warned by the sound of a gunshot. She notices then that the lieutenant seems to have disappeared, and it occurs to her that she did not kill any officers. It would seem likely that the officers would be in the cabin she was in. But they weren't there while she was inside it during the day. Did they go there after she and the lieutenant began killing the guards? And shouldn't the lieutenant have killed them already? She doesn't know. And that's the part that troubles her.


"Deadwood"
Ehawee's Page | Ehawee's Story


All text on this page is © 2001 by Kris Fazzari.

Last modified on June 13, 2001 by Kris Fazzari.