He pulled out his cell phone and turned it on. Despite his efforts to conserve the battery, only three squares of four now displayed, stirring a frisson of panic. He hoped he hadn’t gotten it wet and shorted out the circuitry. He noted the absence of coverage and promptly turned it off, wincing at all the electrons draining from the battery to chime the sign-off tones.
He rose and dragged himself out of the cook shack to relieve his bladder. There was a pair of latrines down behind the barns but they had gotten nasty from the volume of refugees using it and he didn’t feel like walking that far. He took two steps the cook shack, glanced around, and let loose against a prickly bush that didn’t looked more like a weed than an herb.
His borrowed clothes were beginning to smell a bit ripe. He wondered what happened to his own clothes. Once it warmed up a bit he decided to brave a quick rinse in the spring out back.
He raked his thick hair back, parting his fingers like a comb. He turned around to find Misty sitting on one of the benches in the cook shack. He hastily tucked in a flap and fumbled with the laces on his fly.
“How long you been there?” he said.
“Just came out,” said Misty. Her hair was brushed and neat. A satchel was slung over her shoulder, a basket tucked under her arm.
“Jeez, announce yourself next time. Ever hear of ‘good morning?’”
“You were busy peeing on Liz’s medicinals. Didn’t want to startle you.”
“What are you doing up so early?”
“I been thinkin’ about what you said,” said Misty, her face expressionless, almost grim. “About your car and all, and calling home.”
“What about it?”
“I wanna do it.”
“Okay,” said Miles, feeling a little tingly. “When do you want to go?”
“Now,” said Misty.
“You mean … right this minute?” His voice went up in pitch, the way it did when he was surprised or flustered.
“Yeah.”
Miles hadn’t expected Misty to take him up on his offer, or at least not so soon. And despite the calm, he had warmed up to the wisdom of staying put, for now anyway.
“Uh, maybe we should check first down at the cliffs?” said Miles. “Make sure things are quiet in the valley?”
“If we’re gonna go at all, we gotta go now,” said Misty. “Get away before Liz gets up. She really laid into Ellie last night for taking off up into the hills.”
“What makes you think this won’t rile her up?”
“Don’t matter,” said Misty. “This is something I gotta do. If it’s at all possible, like you say it is, I need to call my sis.”
Miles struggled to disentangle his disparate inclinations. He wanted to call home himself and save face with Misty by keeping his end of the bargain. But the thought of leaving the security of the vale terrified him.
He searched for the bravado he had been able to muster in the bunker, when he imagined himself the sole protector of Lizbet’s farm. AK or not, leaving the vale seemed simpler when it was only an idea.
He took a deep breath. “Be nice if I could wash up first,” he said, stalling.
“There’re streams along the way,” said Misty, rising.
“O-kay.”
“Let’s go,” said Misty, pulling up her veil. She turned towards the lane.
***
The sun was just coming up. Frank had been out of the barn and roaming the vale since dark. Tezhay hadn’t returned to the barn the night before. Frank, exhausted had fallen asleep just fine, but once he woke up, that was all she wrote. Being in a dark loft, alone with a corpse, disconcerted him. His thoughts went spinning into dark corners.
A small boy had followed him down the lane and across the lower terrace to the waterfall. The boy was trying to teach him Giep’o, pointing to things and naming them, but Frank was too distracted to participate. The boy proved a much better student, mimicking anything that Frank said over and over like a mad parrot.
“Like a parrot, like a parrot, like a parrot.”
“Jeez kid, will you stop that?”
“Jeeskidstopdat, Jeeskidstopdat!”
A pair of figures came bustling down the dim lane. At first they drew barely a glance, but then he noticed the dangling AK. It was Miles and that girl, Misty, probably going down to help guard the approach to the cliffs.
Frank stepped out onto an overhanging slab that offered a view of the zig-zagging ramp that came up the cliff face. Miles and Misty passed down the ramp without even pausing at the little bunker at the halfway point. They passed through the scree, across the clearing and into the trees.
“What the fuck are they up to?” He turned to the boy. “Don’t you dare repeat that!”
But the boy was gone. He was tearing through the fields towards the barns.
***
Tezhay squinted, disoriented at the people sprawled on the floor around him. He floated, dazed in an amnesiac limbo, taking a full minute to realize that he was not in the loft but on Lizbet’s porch. And then he remembered sharing that herb with one of his volunteers and how it possessed a lot more punch that he was expecting. Here he was, hours later, still feeling its effects. He would have to remember to get some seeds to take back home.
A boy came running onto the porch, breathless.
“They are going off to fight,” he said in Giep’o.
“Who is going?” said Tezhay. “To fight who?”
“The man with the stick. He is going to fight the Crasacs again, and Sister Misty is going with him.”
Liz clambered out of the main house.
“Did you say Misty?”
The boy nodded vigorously.
“These damned women of mine. Does someone have to go sneaking out every morning? What do I have to do? Keep them chained up?”
“You don’t think they go off to fight, do you?” said Tezhay.
“I don’t have the slightest clue what they’re up to,” said Liz. “Ellie, you know anything about this?”
Ellie slipped meekly out onto the porch. “Miles has a … phone,” she said. “It takes pictures. And it gets … bars. Misty wanted to use it … to talk to her sister.”
“Impossible,” said Tezhay.
“You know what the hell she’s talking about?” said Liz.
“He has a mobile telephone,” said Tezhay. “It is like a Mercomar in your pocket, except you talk. But it should not work here. That is not possible.”
“Well, apparently Misty thinks it does,” said Liz. “I can’t believe she would run off at a time like this.”
Tezhay pulled himself up off the floor with the help of a support post. “We will go and get them back.” He took a wobbly step, paused to regain his balance and rousted several of his more able-bodied volunteers from the floor of the porch.
Chapter 29: Flushed
The brick and thatch of Raacevo’s sprawl filled the low places beneath the hilltop temples and bulwarks of the Alar. Bimji huddled with Teo and Idala at the edge of an expansive and isolated coppice of re-sprouted hardwoods, the remains of a sacred, primeval grove that had been felled in the first wave of colonization. They watched a contingent of mounted Cuerti trot slowly up the Verden road, studying its bed and verges, trampled by Idala’s warriors in the night.
Though he ached from a day and a night of forced march, being back at the threshold of his home valley, revivified him. The river he had bathed and fished in since he was a child meandered but a stone’s throw away. The farm was only a few hours away.
Bimji’s thrill was tempered by the troop formations gathering at the northern roadblock. Companies of Crasacs milled about the fallow fields flanking the road. Cuasar detachments galloped every which way, scouting the hill country leading to the western valleys. If Idala and Teo had chosen to march one day later, they would never have made it beyond Raacevo.
Idala’s warriors, augmented by members of a clan from another western village, numbered sixty in all on foot with another score or so on poni
es, which their riders had taken deep into the woodlot to graze among the lush swales and swards interspersed among the young trees.
Bimji cringed every time he heard a pony snort. He hoped the wind coming out of the west sufficed to mute them and to carry away their scent.
The foot warriors, by order as well as intuition, lay low and inert as blocks of wood, giving the Cuerti no rustle of bush or quiver or tree to confirm whatever suspicions they might harbor.
“They see our tracks,” said Idala. “We should have covered them, or at least taken better care and crossed over ledges.”
“I didn’t think it necessary,” said Teo. “I was certain it would rain.”
Several of the Cuerti dismounted and crouched down by the road side. One of them examined an object that had been trampled into the mud.
“I’ve never seen so many Cuerti,” said Bimji. “Not out and about in the countryside like this. I thought they rarely stray from their temples.”
“They’re more than temple guards,” said Teo. “In times of war, they fight like any soldier. We saw whole battalions of them in Sesei during the invasion. I would guess that these men are out here preparing an attack.”
“But who are they attacking?” said Idala.
“Whoever silenced the Mercomar, I would guess,” said Teo. “More evidence that the militia counteroffensive might be underway.”
“In which case, what they prepare is not an attack as much as a defense,” said Idala, eyes glinting.
One of the Cuerti raised a pair flags, signaling to the units down by the crossroads.
“What does that mean?” said Bimji.
“Can’t tell … from this angle,” said Teo.
A clanking and creaking commenced, increasing steadily in volume, silencing all birdsong.
“What in bloody hell is that?” said Teo.
Idala rose and moved stealthily to a better vantage point closer to the edge of the coppice. “It’s a … cart. A giant cart, leading other carts.”
“A war wagon,” said Teo. “Armored oxen pulling a wheeled tower for marksmen. A moveable strong point and I bet it’s leading a supply train. This is how they did it in Sesei. But I never thought I’d see a war wagon in Gi.”
“I see more machines behind them,” said Idala. “Devices with ladders. Contraptions that throw.”
Teo flushed. Her breathing accelerated. “We need to get word back to my cadre. We’ll need every fighter from every clan in the west.”
“How?” said Idala. “Cuasars prowl every back way to Gor’ta. They’ve probably activated every Polu in and around Raacevo.”
Bimji stood and craned his neck down towards the roadblock. “They’re bringing up a company … two companies of Crasacs. Coming our way up the road.”
“I don’t like this,” said Teo. “I bet the Cuerti summoned them. I suspect they’re preparing to flush us.”
“We’re trapped,” said Idala. “If we stay put, they’ll crush us.”
“The way to Sinta is open,” said Bimji. “Across the beet fields. It’s too muddy for the Cuasars but your ponies can manage.”
Teo looked at Idala. Both looked grim.
“What other choice do we have?” said Idala.
Chapter 30: Excursion
Misty pranced down the ramp ahead of Miles, lips pursed, face taut. She wore moccasin-like boots that reached halfway up her calves. A long bow was slung on her back with a quiver of arrows, their red and purple fletching evoking a bouquet of wildflowers. An oil skin was bunched under her arm and she clutched a small basket to her belly.
“What’s in the basket?” said Miles.
“Packed us a little picnic for lunch,” she said, patting the wicker lid. “T’ain’t much.”
“What, no breakfast?” said Miles.
“How about we call it brunch?” said Misty. “Let’s get our butts down the trail a bit first.” She fished into her pocket and pulled out the heel of a small loaf. “But here’s a tidbit to tide you over.” She pressed it into Mile’s hand.
“Thanks,” said Miles. “You want some?”
She flicked her head. “No thanks, I’m fine.” She looked dazed.
“You okay?” said Miles.
“Just … nervous,” she said. “You think we can make it back here by noon?”
“Um … maybe,” said Miles. “If we drive.”
“Drive?” she said, shaking her head. “Sorry, that just sounds … preposterous.”
“Not only that,” said Miles. He took a deep breath. “We don’t have to come back here ... right away. You help me get my car out of the bog. I’ve got a full tank. We can drive our way out of this place. Find a city with an American consulate or what-not.”
“Drive from Gi?” said Misty. “Are you serious?”
“Why not? I can call out of here, can’t I?”
“This ain’t Mexico, Miles.” Misty’s eyes didn’t quite roll, but they did wiggle. “Let’s go make those calls,” she said. “We’ll discuss the other stuff later, alright?” Misty tossed a glance up to the cliff top. “Liz is gonna have a hissy fit. But oh well. I’m a big girl. I can do things for myself.” She bit her lip. “Okay, let’s do it.”
Miles kept his eyes on the trees. Being at the scene of the violence again tweaked his nerves. Tom’s blood still stained some of the gaps between stones, but at least the Crasacs had been removed from the ditch.
The forest was quiet. The only sounds came from birds and insects and the little skinny-tailed squirrels that scuttled down the branches. The paths looked clear. Miles shrugged. He saw no reason not to go forth.
“’Kay,” he said and they started down the switchback, down a plane of fractured bedrock to the packed scree below.
Miles hesitated at the base of the cliffs, Miles hesitated. At least four well-worn paths converged on the clearing like spokes. He recognized some split logs spanning a muddy dip and started down it. The path quickly narrowed. Brambles and saplings encroached.
“Where are you taking us?” said Misty.
“This is the way,” said Miles. “I’m sure of it.”
“You’re positive?”
Miles ignored her, plunging ahead. They quickly came upon even swampier terrain with split logs end to end. Miles suddenly wasn’t so sure. He didn’t remember this feature.
“This is the way to the river, right?” he said.
Misty smirked. “You’d better turn around, hon. Ain’t nothing down this way but swamp rats.”
“I could have sworn ….” said Miles.
“Is it Sinta that you want? The main road?”
“Well, yeah there’s a road … and a river,” said Miles.
“Sinta,” said Misty. “Better let me lead,” she said, slipping in front of Miles. She led them back to the clearing and around to the next path over, which also had a pair of split logs crossing a muddy seep.
Miles walked into the tripwire that Tom had set, rattling a kitchen’s worth of broken crockery. He would have blown them all to dust had the AK’s fire select lever not been pulled up on safe.
“Jeezus! Calm down,” said Misty.
“Everything’s cool, I’m fine,” said Miles. “Just forgot this booby trap was here.”
“Then stop swinging that damned gun around,” said Misty. “Keep it pointed at the ground.”
Chapter 31: Search Party
Frank strolled back to the barn, hoping the dead man’s family had made off with his body the way the other two had vanished before sunrise the morning before. One day without rain had dried out the lane. He picked his way along the high points, islets of packed clay and pale dust among the puddles and pits of dark, red mud. The mad torrents that had gushed through the ditches towards the cliffs flowed calmly now, trickling to their destiny at the cliffs.
Frank had almost made it back to the barn when Tezhay came pounding down from the main house with some of his volunteers with their AKs, both real and replica. They all looked half asleep.
“Co
me,” said Tezhay. “We go find Mist.”
“Misty? I just saw her leave with Miles.”
“You no stop them?”
“Why … did they need stopping? Where’d they go?”
“Ellie say, to make telephone,” said Tezhay.
“What do you mean?”
“Misty want to call her sister.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Come. We have to find them. The road is danger. You come help us, you look brave for your woman. Maybe she like you more.”
“Look brave?” said Frank. “You mean … show off for Liz?”
“Yes,” said Tezhay. “You help find your, eh … step-wife. Maybe Lizbet, she like this and not be so mean to you.”
“Wait a minute. Misty’s not my step-wife,” said Frank. “And Liz isn’t … mean. She’s just confused.”
“Both of you marry to Lizbet, no?”
Frank felt his heart ramping up. “Tezhay, I appreciate your concern, but … enough already.”
“So you come with us?”
“I was about to look in on Tom,” said Frank.
“Ellie say he is good,” said Tezhay. “He sleeps.”
Frank’s attention sprang up the lane. Liz had hobbled out from the house to watch the search party leave. In the morning light, her face looked softer, less creased—he caught a flash of how she looked when she was younger and happily married to him in Belize.
“You all be careful down there,” said Liz.
Frank latched onto those simple words of concern like a starving beggar to a morsel. Despite his inclinations, he turned and joined the search party, stepping light with the knowledge that Liz was watching.
They passed through the terraces and paused at the cliff, where Tezhay queried the old man standing watch at the top of the ramp.
One of the volunteers gawked at Frank as if he were a circus freak, although the man himself seemed clownish. He wore a head scarf down to his eyebrows, and could not stop fidgeting. He shook the hopper of the paintball gun like a maraca and danced a bit too close to Frank’s personal space.
“Fuck off,” Frank muttered and turned away. Tezhay was wise in not giving this one a real weapon. He glanced up the lane to see that Liz had gone back to the house. He sighed.