Another long stretch of silence.
I wanted Sketchy and her zeppelin to find my sister, but I needed the Moby first. Couldn’t execute my plan without air support. Would she find us in time? If she didn’t, all my hopes and plans would be like cottonwood fluff in the wind.
Pilate cleared his throat. “So, Cavvy, you want us to go up against highly-trained, not-quite-human soldiers. We’re as outgunned as we are outclassed. I’m sure you’ve thought that through, though, so what’s your plan to steal the train?”
Inside, I was quaking, but I said my next words oh so confidently. “We use the Juniper herself as a weapon.”
A rifle report sounded across the plains. A sniper.
Kasey Chambers went down. Hard.
Chapter Thirteen
For thousands of years before the Yankees stole it away, buffalo and the Wind River people owned the Great Plains. The Sino gave it back to them. I thought if a war could be generous, I could, too. I let loose a thousand head of buffalo onto the open plain above Cheyenne. When I watched those lovely beasts trot across the wind-blown grass, I wept. I cried for Sand Creek. I cried for Wounded Knee. I cried for the brutality of history and the hopelessness of humanity’s cruelty. Then I laughed, because through it all there has been the wind. God’s embrace. Sometimes gentle, sometimes brutal, but ever present.
—Mavis Meetchum
Colorado Courier Interview
September 7, 2046
(i)
THE CATTLE AROUND US took off in a run, not a stampede, but in a fearful push of bodies and horns. Us humans hit the ground. Most of us.
Not Pilate and Wren. Pilate threw Petal’s sniper rifle to my sister. “She’s north or northwest. That shot was a pass-through, and I saw the bullet hit the dirt.” A heartbeat later, Wren was up on the Chevy. She threw open the passenger door, climbed onto the runner, and laid Mickey Mauser on its bipod across the roof the cab. She peered through the Zeiss lens trying to draw a bead on the sniper.
Micaiah stayed hidden inside the cab.
Petal scurried over on her hands and knees to get to Kasey, who had blood running down her neck. My mind flashed to the Madeline’s warning—our snipers will plague you with bullets, day after day, until you beg us to take him.
Him. Pilate.
Face in the dirt, it was clear to me, if we didn’t get on that train, we wouldn’t make it. Sniper bullets would fracture our morale and send us scurrying east.
“Petal,” I hissed out in a whisper. “Is Kasey going to make it?”
Petal nodded. “Yes, it grazed her ... missed the vertebrae, the jugular, the esophagus. It’s a miracle.”
Or the sniper was good, too good, ’cause in the end they didn’t want us dead, not us girls anyway.
Kasey moaned. I couldn’t imagine how much that would hurt.
I still had the syringe of Skye6 in my pocket. I tossed it to Petal, and she stuck Kasey.
“Found you, skanks,” Wren said from the top of the Chevy. Mickey Mauser coughed. Wren worked the action, then fired again. More long moments with her at the scope. Then, “Gonna jack you skanks up and right back down. You snipe us, and we’ll snipe you right back. I got two of them. Two more are riding off. Too far for a shot and I don’t wanna waste the ammo.”
Pilate sighed. “Two down, but how many more to go? They won’t stop.”
Aunt Bea shuffled close to me in the dirt. “We need to steal that train.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said. “We do.”
(ii)
Dolly Day and Crete came galloping in on their horses, but thank God, no one shot at them. Wren stayed at the Chevy, scanning the horizon with the Zeiss lens. Micaiah was under her in the cab, using her spotting scope.
I went up to my sister. “You see anything?”
“Yeah,” Wren said, her voice strained from squinting. “Those two rode off. A dozen more came back, but I think they know we’re on to them. They’re hanging back.”
Micaiah piped up. “I’d guess they’re about twelve-hundred meters away. Just out of range.”
Wren grumbled “Out of range for me, prolly, but I’m watching them like they’re watching us. Besharam skanks.”
“For now, that is good news,” I said. We needed to be watched for my plan to work.
Pilate and Petal were the first to leave. I’d begged Pilate to take Bob D. He was fast, but more than that, he was smart and calm in a fight. Pilate agreed. Petal took the new horse, Maddy. Together they galloped out of camp, going fast, in a big splash of dust and noise. We needed the Madelines to see Pilate leave. And if God were kind, they would go after him with as many troops as they could muster.
Wren confirmed the Madelines chased after Pilate and Petal the minute they left camp. Good. Scary, but good.
Next, Aunt Bea and Crete saddled up Elvis and Taylor Quick. Aunt Bea shook her head. “This is racist. Just ’cause I’m Mexican doesn’t mean those Wind River women will listen to me.”
“It’s more about your age.” I let out a breath. “You and Crete, the old and the young. They might show you some kindness. Be sure to mention you’ve had dinner with Mavis Meetchum. That might help.”
Aunt Bea harrumphed. Crete fought tears. Poor girl.
My stomach churned as I watched them leave. Pilate and Petal had survived the Sino together, and though Petal was done shooting, I knew she still had a whole passel of survival skills.
What Aunt Bea and Crete had to do was far more iffy, their chances not one in a million. Still, we had to try. Had to.
I busied myself packing up for us to move and scanning the skies, always looking up for the Moby Dick. Without the zeppelin, my plan didn’t stand a chance.
Dolly Day was busy with a limping cow, but the minute that woman saw the bandage on Kasey’s neck, she began to gripe, of course. I reminded Dolly that if everything went right, she’d be sipping whiskey in a casino in Nevada in less than a week with a pocketful of cash. That helped. Besides, she was only doing what we had paid her to do. Move cattle.
We couldn’t wait for the Moby, so we left, on edge and armed, pushing our headcount north. Sketchy would come and find us. I knew she would.
Wren and Micaiah remained in the Chevy with their scopes while I drove. Kasey Chambers rested in the bed. She’d lost a lot of blood, but she fought to stay strong and upright, scanning the skies for the Moby.
Please, God, please bring Sketchy to me.
For the eyes watching us, it was just another day of our cattle drive. We knew better.
Around noon I heard the chug of the steam engine and, sure enough, the Moby Dick came drifting out of the sky and landed. Kasey took over driving the Chevy, even neck-shot.
Wren and I smuggled Micaiah into the Moby, still wearing the New Morality dress. We hustled up the back cargo door into the zeppelin, into the sweet smell of hay. Stacked bales reached from floor to ceiling. Blue plastic water barrels lined the walls, fashioned out of NeoFiber. A skin of lightweight, next generation Kevlar covered the infrastructure. Air cells of low-pressure theta-helium, otherwise known as thelium, floated in massive compartments above us.
Tech guided us through aisles in the hay, and we took our places in the cockpit. Sketchy gave Micaiah a wink. “Nice dress, Johnson. Even nicer legs. You like older women?”
Micaiah grinned right back. “Only zeppelin pilots.”
Sketchy obviously hadn’t expected that answer. She blushed. “Well, yeah, um, well.” She shook her head. “Damn, you are familiar to me, boy. Wished I could remember. But hey Tech, can we give the kid some pants? Maybe your jeans might fit him?”
“They might. I’ll check.” Tech disappeared back to the engine.
“Whatcha all doing on board?” Sketchy asked.
“I’ll tell you once we’re in the air,” I said evenly, though my voice wanted to tremble. If she said no, we’d be sunk.
Tech leaned to speak into a communication tube. “Okay, Peeperz, we’re taking off. It’s pretty mysterious as to why.”
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We floated up above the Chevy, our trailer, our cattle and our team on horseback. Despite the tension I felt, I couldn’t help but admire the beauty. A blue sky spread over the greening spring plains.
I let out a breath, then told Sketchy I needed her to help us steal a train. She looked dazed for a half-minute, then took to caterwauling. “Cavatica Weller, I ain’t risking my beloved zeppelin on some hare-brained scheme. We’d be shot down for sure. Killed and killed again. This ain’t Hollywood video, and I won’t do it. Don’t care that it’s illegal, it might even be moral, given you’re stealing from such skanks. Still, I couldn’t live with myself if I escorted you folks into an early grave.”
“I just need you to get us above the train,” I said. “Believe me, once the Juniper slaps those ARK soldiers around, they won’t care about the Moby.” If Pilate and Aunt Bea did their jobs. The fear filling my belly threatened to strangle me.
Wren defended my plan. “This’ll work. When we get above the train, I’ll go first. I got experience from my time in the circus. Once I jump down on the train, I can help catch Cavvy and Micaiah. Do it quick. Cavvy’ll hotwire the train while Micaiah helps.” She gave him a long look, trying to figure him out.
Tech returned with jeans and a white shirt, kind of blousy.
“If the shirt fits, you’ll look like a pirate.” I smiled at him.
He smiled back. “I like pirates. Though pirates involve water, right? We’ll be stealing a train.”
“Stealing a train?” Tech perked up.
I told her the plan while Micaiah changed. She blinked, smiled, shook her head at me. “And I thought I was the only smooth criminal on board.”
Micaiah came back dressed in clothes clearly made for a woman. He had to cinch the jeans tight with a belt since he had no hips, and the blouse made him look less like a pirate and more like a crossdresser.
Wren plucked at the sagging chest of the blouse. “It’s a good thing you ain’t got boobs, Johnson. If you had ’em, you’d never have left home. Am I right?”
Micaiah rolled his eyes.
“Wren, you can’t say such things!” I admonished.
“Did say it,” my sister returned. “Not only was it funny, but with a boy his age, it was bound to be true.”
Micaiah slid back on those dang alligator boots I hated, though they were holding up better than I would’ve thought. “What do you think about stealing the train, Tech?” Micaiah asked.
Tech shrugged. “I used to steal lots of things back in the day. Nothing this big though. It’s bound to violate my parole.” She put her finger to her lips. “Oh, that’s right. My PO is still back in Illinois. Well, what she don’t know can’t hurt her.”
“I’ll do it, but I don’t like it,” Sketchy said. “Once Peeperz sees the train, we’ll go low and tie the Moby to the ground and wait. At the first sound of battle, we’ll fly you over. Then it’s a straight shot. You should leave all the danger behind you except for the Mormons, but a lot of that is rumor. Tech grew up Mormon. They’re just your regular Jesus-geek peculiar.”
Tech nodded. “Just another sect of Christianity, but so American. Work hard, get a bunch of wives, stay true to God’s will, and you get your own planet. Just another way of saying the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.”
Sketchy wiped a hand across her dirty face and adjusted her goggles. “Crazy Weller girls. Won’t let nothin’ get in their way. Mormon Jesus, or Catholic Jesus, please listen to this old atheist’s prayers. Guide us, protect us, love us in our pride and stupidity. But, Cavatica, do you really think Pilate and Aunt Bea can do their part?”
I sighed. “They’ll have to is all. Ain’t got no choice.” Please, God.
“What about Sharlotte?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”
We flew north. Micaiah guided Sketchy. It wasn’t long before Peeperz’s voice sounded through the communication tube. “I see the train, Sketch. Hold up here.”
We stopped and staked the Moby to the ground and waited. Hours went by. Longest hours of my life.
Then sun was inching toward the western horizon when we heard the first explosion.
Gunfire.
The wrath of God.
Or in this case, the Juniper herself, wielding a hellfire shotgun.
(iii)
Tech reeled up the mooring cables, and we soared up and onward toward the train.
“Which group is attacking them?” Micaiah asked.
Sketchy repeated Micaiah’s question into the tube.
“Can’t tell, Sketch,” Peeperz answered. “Too far away.”
“We’ll know soon enough,” Wren growled.
Sketchy let out a long sigh. “Dang Weller girls. Crazy as loons, but who knows, this just might work.” She threw every bit of thrust she had into the propellers, and we hurtled across the sky.
In minutes we saw the ghost town. Time, salvage monkeys, and weather had leveled the small city so only the train yard and skeletal buildings remained. Most of the tracks lay rusted or cut, but one set looked new—the tracks the ARK had repaired.
The train itself came into view. Even Sketchy was silenced. I felt like I was staring into a dream, or gazing at one of them big, detailed Renaissance paintings about the life of peasants with every inch of canvas covered with people.
Through the dirty windshield of the Moby, we watched a battle being fought on either side of a long cattle train. Aunt Bea and Crete had won the race and found the Wind River people first. Thanks to Micaiah, we knew where to find them. And if the Madelines had gone chasing after Pilate and Petal, they would soon be here, and we’d hit those ARK soldiers with a one-two punch. The Wind River people and the Psycho Madelines.
While the Regios battled the two groups, Wren, Micaiah, and I would steal the train. We’d rendezvous with our headcount and the rest of our people on down the line, west of what remained of Laramie, Wyoming. The Moby would fly back to guide them.
I knew if the Wind River people caught wind of a train in their territory they’d come and stop it. Copper-skinned women with long, dark hair flowing behind them rode painted horses alongside the train, firing sleek, black machine guns. Their outfits were a mix of beaded shirts and feathered headdresses and Yankee outdoor gear—North Face jackets, Tough pants, and Wesco boots. ARK soldiers fought back in sagebrush camouflage, armed with top of the line weaponry.
Sketchy wiped a rag across her goggles. “You girls ready?”
I wasn’t. I wanted to turn around and run. Too late for that. What if this plan failed? People would lose a lot more than their pinkie fingers.
Wren smirked. “Christ, yes, Sketchy. I missed out on the last fight, and I got a serious case of blue balls.”
“Wren!” I gasped.
“Let’s do this thing!” Sketchy howled and shoved the yoke forward. The zeppelin shot down toward the ground as we hung on to our seats for dear life. Sketchy shouted into the communication tube, “Peeperz, hang on to your false teeth and chewin’ gum. Gonna buzzbomb the Devil.” She launched into some old song about buzzbombs.
The adrenaline hit me, sucking away all my fear, and suddenly I was laughing or crying or both. This was crazy. This was life. This was the Juniper.
We staggered back through the swaying airship to the mid-bay hatch where Tech stood, gripping straps anchored into cleats on the floor to keep her balance. The sound of the battle increased. Bullets ricocheted and whined. Explosions blistered the ground. The shriek of horses echoed the dying screams of women.
Through the hatch, the cars flashed underneath us, so fast, faster, a blur. We couldn’t make that jump. Sketchy was right. This was something out of Hollywood video.
“Well jacker me down tight,” Wren cursed, but I knew it wasn’t about the jump down to the train. She’d seen something.
“What?” I asked.
“Praetor Edger is up and running. Along with another of them Vixx skanks.” She pointed, and I followed her finger.
Sure enough, Edger
and one of the Vixxes raced across the ground to engage the Wind River people. We were too far away to see the nametag, so it might’ve been Reb or Ronnie, or maybe Rachel, the one Vixx we hadn’t met yet.
It seemed like the worst of omens, but how could Edger be fighting? She’d been critically wounded in the battle the night before.
Sketchy’s voice erupted from the communication tube next to the hatch in the floor. “Gonna stop for a half second, so you can get down. Up ahead, there’s a Little America station, the Laramie one. We’ll rendezvous there with you wrong-headed Weller girls. Once I drop you off, I’ll fly back and tell your people. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, ain’t this exciting!”
Explosions rocked the Moby. I heard the crack of what could only be the windshield shattering. Sketchy yowled laughter. “Ah, a little fresh air. The Moby can take your damn missiles. Bring it.” Sketchy positioned the zeppelin over the train engine. Its roof was cylindrical, covering the tank and the boiler, with two guardrails across either side.
Smoke tendrils swirled above the engine. Stray bullets sparked off the back. Couldn’t tell if they were from the Regios or from the Wind River people.
The Moby stuttered to a stop, and Sketchy yelled, “Get off, Wren. Now!”
Arms crossed, Wren dropped through the hatch, fell the three or four meters through the air, and hit the roof of the engine. She rolled to take the impact. Looked as if she’d roll right off the train.
At the last minute, Wren twisted and caught herself on a guardrail.
Sketchy cried out, raw-gut panic in her voice. “Get off, now! Both of you. Gotta get out of here. Gotta ...”
Another explosion thrashed the Moby. Felt like a Godzilla monster had the airship in his fist.
Micaiah went through the hatch first, and I fell after him, knocking my shoulder against the side.
Then I was falling, falling, falling—felt like a million years.
I landed on the roof of the engine all wrong. My right ankle crumpled under me. I hissed in pain. I looked up in time to see the Moby take a missile in her starboard side. Pieces of melting Neofiber rained down. Flames licked around the gaping hole. The Moby was hurt but still afloat. The airship struggled away, streaming smoke, losing elevation. I watched until Micaiah and my sister pulled me up.
Machine-Gun Girls Page 16
