Gary didn’t try to crawl over Andy, but instead wormed his way into the backseat of the limo and started crawling through that window.
Andy had tried to get the vehicles as close as possible, but there was a curve to the limo that didn’t match the square sides of the jeep, and it left just enough space to allow one of the smaller Tuskers to leap into the gap right when the driver was halfway between the two cars. His belly was fully exposed.
Gary screamed as the pig shimmied up and speared its tusk into his soft flesh. Something wet and viscous sloshed out of the opening, and Andy craned his neck to see that part of the man’s intestines were extruding out. The pig was already falling, but as it did, it grabbed hold of the intestines with its teeth, pulling out more of them. The pig landed upside down on the road, still holding onto the glistening meat. Other pigs grabbed the protruding organ and pulled backward.
Halfway between the cars, Gary shook and shuddered, groaning, as if he didn’t have enough energy to do more. Kathy reacted almost immediately, scrambling between the jeep’s front seats and into the back. She grabbed his arms. Seth was repelled backward by the sight, slamming against the far door, closing his eyes and shaking.
The cameraman’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he went limp. His back lost all stiffness. He slid partway into the gap. Still more pigs took that opportunity to leap into the gap and rip into the man’s chest.
Kathy kept pulling on one of her cameraman’s arms.
“Help me!” she cried.
Andy lunged over the driver’s seat and grabbed the other arm. Slowly, inch by inch, they dragged Gary the rest of the way into the vehicle. The lifeless body tumbled headfirst onto the backseat, the legs dropping to one side of the torso.
There was screaming, a man’s voice. But it wasn’t Gary. He was silent, lifeless.
Seth had finally opened his eyes, and he was letting out a guttural, horrified denial of everything that was happening in front of him. Kathy fell backward, her jaws clamped shut, her eyes wide. She looked at Andy, and there was fear there, but there was also resolve. Determination to survive.
She turned and hugged Seth. “It’s over, Seth. He’s dead. He doesn’t feel anything.”
Seth stopped screaming, but still shook in Kathy’s arms. The young man buried his head in her shoulder and sobbed.
The jeep lurched as one of front tires deflated, and that stirred Andy to action. He raised the windows and pulled away fast, not caring how many of the pigs he hit or ran over. The jeep swayed from one side to the other on its deflated tires, but it built up a speed that was surprising. In the rearview mirror, Andy’s peripheral vision caught black strips flying into the air, and he realized the tires were shredding. The grinding of the bare rims on the road sent sparks into the air, and small fires began to ignite in the dry grasses by the roadside behind them. He was trashing the drivetrain, but all he wanted was to get away. Too late, he realized that he was driving away from town.
“Shit,” he said.
“The Pederson ranch is up ahead,” Kathy said, as if reading his mind.
He nodded grimly. The jeep drove surprisingly well at first, until they reached the hill that lay between them and the ranch. As the hill grew steeper, the engine began to labor, clanking as if it was flying apart.
Miraculously, they reached the top. Andy pulled off the road and stopped. The jeep was smoking; the stress on the engine from rolling on bare rims was burning it out. He looked back. The pigs still followed them.
They sat unmoving for a moment as they all remembered to breathe again.
Then they gazed down upon the little valley where the Pederson ranch was nestled.
The valley was moving, heaving. The horde that had attacked them had seemed like all the pigs in the world. Now, as they looked down on the roiling mass surrounding the Pederson barn, they realized they had confronted but a small offshoot of the main army of Tuskers. The Tuskers filled the valley from one end to the other. They appeared to be in ordered in rows, like Roman legions, and were surrounded by packs of coyotes, who ran wildly in circles around them. Clouds of crows circled the valley from above. Distant gunfire reached them, punctuated by explosions.
Without a word, Andy turned the jeep around. As their own little army of attacking Tuskers neared, he pointed the vehicle back the down the road they’d just climbed. The engine shuddered, then caught, and the jeep gained momentum again. The pigs didn’t look as though they were going to get out of the way, and Andy had a moment of doubt. If they stopped the jeep, it was all over.
At the last moment, most of the pigs swerved to the sides of the road. Andy slammed into those who didn’t get out of the way in time, and then they were past.
They left the Tusker horde behind, skidding around corners, until they could see Saguaro below them, tantalizingly close. Close, that is, if the jeep kept going, but impossibly far if they had to reach it on foot.
Just get us to town, old buddy, Andy thought. Just get us to town.
Chapter Eleven
Morning before the Pulse
The human convoy rumbled past El Dedo, or the Finger, the large hill on the horizon: three large black SUVs and a bright green van. Napoleon watched through his binoculars, wishing he was down there with his troops on the battlefield, leading his Tuskers from the front, not watching from behind.
Take time to deliberate, Bonaparte said. But when the time for action comes, stop thinking and go in.
Oh, shut up, Napoleon said to the imaginary voice in his head. He already felt like a fraud. His human namesake had always been at the front of his battles, gaining his men’s loyalty through his courage, not by making plans and then hiding.
Beside him, Genghis watched the unfolding events intently, apparently satisfied.
There is nothing more I can do, Napoleon thought. He sat down next to the Great One with a sigh. He perched on his chair, clutching the walkie-talkie. He was so tense, he felt as if he could fly off the hill, swoop down on the action, and lead the charge.
If pigs could fly, he thought. I’d be flying.
The first deviation from Napoleon’s imagining of the battle happened in those first few moments. The humans didn’t drive all their SUVs toward the ambush point. Halfway between El Dedo and the Tetas de Bruja, they unexpectedly stopped. The men from two of the vehicles emerged and proceeded on foot. It was a blunder—it made them more vulnerable.
Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake, Bonaparte said.
One of the SUVs continued forward, slowly, followed by the large green van. The humans spread out around the vehicles, walking slowly, cautiously. They were dressed in fatigues, as if they were military, but Napoleon sensed they were a private army, not part of the government.
Disable the vehicles! He tried to send the thought through the air to Hannibal. He looked down at the useless walkie-talkie, which was connected to Marie, but not to anyone else. Too late, he realized they should have had a communication network set up, at least until the EMP was discharged. But he had never considered that he wouldn’t be in command.
The secret of war lies in the communications, Bonaparte decided to add.
The humans were more on guard than Napoleon had expected. They were spread out in a defensive formation. There appeared to be a couple of dozen of them, all heavily armed. Napoleon had thought there might be even more enemy combatants, but he hadn’t thought they’d be professional soldiers. He’d had Genesis Valley watched carefully, to see if government forces were brought in. As far as he could tell, the humans hadn’t told the outside world what had happened.
No one would have believed them, Napoleon thought.
The humans were spread out, as if afraid of being caught in an ambush. Nevertheless, Napoleon had planned for even this eventuality. The net should be wide enough to take them all in. Napoleon held his breath as the soldiers slowly approached the ambush spot. Beside him, Genghis radiated his tension so strongly that Na
poleon wished he could order his leader to leave.
The humans were approaching the point of no return. Be patient, he thought, hoping that somehow Hannibal would hear him.
The coyotes seemed to appear out of nowhere. They surged toward the humans, who at first didn’t react, as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. At the same time, the sky filled with ravens, who swooped down upon the astonished humans, distracting them even more.
Too soon! Napoleon thought.
An order that can be misunderstood will be misunderstood, Bonaparte said.
The humans scrambled backward. The coyotes swarmed the vehicles, surrounding them. The SUV tried to back away, running over some of the animals, and slammed into a rock on the side of the road. Sand sprayed into the air as the driver spun the wheels, trying to get away.
Then the men were clambering out of the vehicles again, blasting away at the coyotes. A wide swath of the animals dropped, until a carpet of bodies surrounded the humans.
The humans began to retreat.
Don’t let them get away! Napoleon thought. Send the javelinas.
For once, Hannibal did the right thing. The javelinas rose from the desert floor where they had hidden and flowed toward the humans. These dumber cousins to the Tuskers were meant to be the shock troops, along with the coyotes and ravens. Napoleon had even hoped that Tuskers wouldn’t have to be in the fight at all.
But the humans were getting away.
On cue, a Tusker rose from behind the rocks and fired the bazooka that Napoleon had ordered made. The missile struck the disabled SUV, blowing it into the air. The second missile landed among the humans, several of whom flew lifelessly into the air. A second Tusker arose and fired a second bazooka, and the explosion rocked the middle of the human formation.
The green van was idle through this, as if the driver was in shock. Suddenly, it veered off the road, went bouncing over the desert terrain, and dropped out of sight. There were ravines on both sides of the road, which was why Napoleon had chosen this spot for the ambush. The humans could only go forward—or back.
As the humans took cover, Napoleon looked over at Genghis, who nodded. He pressed the button on the walkie-talkie twice, the prearranged signal to set off the Pulse. It wasn’t going to be the Big Pulse, the one they needed to destroy human civilization, but hopefully it would be strong enough to turn the tide of battle.
The walkie-talkie screeched and fell silent. Napoleon dropped the useless device to the ground.
The Pulse may have been weaker than they’d hoped, but it did the job. The humans were obviously in disarray. By spreading out, they had probably thought they were safer, as long as they could coordinate their movements. Now, each unit was alone, out of touch with the others.
But the humans continued to retreat in good order.
Napoleon was impressed, but it wouldn’t help. As the formation neared El Dedo, the final trap was sprung. The best trained of the Tusker cadre blocked their path. The two lines converged on each other relentlessly.
The humans didn’t stop their advance, but slammed into the line of Tuskers. Dust and smoke rose into the air, along with gunfire and shouts, and the squeals of Tuskers dying.
“What’s happening?” Genghis demanded.
“They’re getting away,” Napoleon said. He’d expected to lure more of the men into the trap, but they’d gotten away. They couldn’t be outflanked.
“I thought you said that couldn’t happen.”
“No battle goes according to plan,” Napoleon said. “The trap was sprung too quickly.”
“That’s unacceptable.”
Napoleon dared to look the Great One in the eyes. “Hannibal closed the trap too soon, it’s true. But these humans were well trained and disciplined. Not what we expected. Because of that, Hannibal should have adjusted. Once the battle began, Hannibal should have committed all his troops to the battle at once. If I was in command…” He left the rest unsaid, unwilling to place the full culpability on his leader, who was glowering at him.
Today, they had probably achieved the same kind of victory the Japanese had gained at Pearl Harbor. They’d won the day, but they’d awoken a giant. But that wasn’t the kind of thing Genghis wanted to hear.
We might still survive, Napoleon thought. If the Big Pulse works.
If they were very lucky, they might be able to fight mankind to a standstill. Make them accept the existence of Tuskers and leave them in peace. But Napoleon didn’t hold much hope for that. Humanity didn’t respond to challenges by giving in, by coexisting peacefully.
The Great One grunted in frustration. Then he shrugged. “If the humans get away, they will return to find nothing but death. By now, Cassius and Brutus will have killed all these men left behind. Genesis Valley will be ours.”
I wonder if it will be so easy, Napoleon thought. He didn’t dare say anything out loud.
Genghis rose from his chair, and his entourage fell in around him. He marched down the hillside, followed by most of his retinue.
Napoleon stayed on the hilltop and watched a few more minutes of the battle, until the action moved out of sight, over the horizon. He could still hear gunshots, but he could only visualize the ongoing fight in his mind, which was useless.
With a sigh, he picked his way down the slope. He walked out onto the battlefield.
It felt familiar; the stench of death, the smell of gunpowder that clung to everything, the quiet stillness. The seeming pointlessness of dying on ground that was later abandoned.
He saw a surviving coyote mourning over its lost mate, and he remembered what Bonaparte had once said when he’d come across a dog howling over its master:
His soldier, I realized, must have had friends at home and in his regiment; yet he lay there deserted by all except his dog. I looked on, unmoved, at battles which decided the future of nations. Tearless, I had given orders which brought death to thousands. Yet here I was stirred, profoundly stirred, stirred to tears. And by what? By the grief of one dog.
War is not glorious, Napoleon suddenly realized. He agreed with Bonaparte that history was written by the winners, and had believed that they must be victorious to survive. But now the futility of such death came over him, and he knew that he must try to change the Great One’s mind, and that they must fight not to kill all their enemies, but to achieve peace between the species.
Napoleon walked to North Hill, which was filled with pipes and wires and gleaming metal and switches that meant nothing to him. Our one hope. Marie and Tesla were at the base of The Machine, communing over a smoking part.
Marie turned and grunted a greeting. When she was in the throes of her science, she sometimes seemed almost unaware of Napoleon—though she more than made up for it by the attention she gave him the rest of the time.
“I’ve given you more time,” Napoleon said.
Tesla merely grunted, but Marie seemed to fully realize he was there for the first time. “The Machine worked!” she said. “It was only powered to a fraction of its capacity, and yet I believe its range was many hundreds of miles. When it is fully energized, which should happen in the next day or two, I predict we’ll destroy every machine the humans have.”
Good thing, Napoleon thought, as Bonaparte looked on. Because, unless I’m very mistaken, we’ve just made the classic mistake. We’ve invaded Russia in the winter.
Chapter Twelve
The old jeep kept the faith despite its sputtering and smoking, and Andy turned the final corner into town with a sigh of relief. He shot a glance at Kathy, who was already looking at him. She nodded, and he knew that’s all he’d ever get out of her by way of gratitude.
Tough lady.
Gunshots in the distance and fires at the center of town instantly erased his relief. Dark shapes, low to the ground, darted through the streets, running from house to house. The Tuskers were everywhere. The body of a dead woman lay to one side of the road as they crossed the city limits. She’
d drawn her coat over her face, as if in her last moments she was trying to hide. In the middle of the street was a man who was eviscerated; his face was nearly ripped off, but his old gray double-breasted suit was unmistakable. Andy realized it was one of his morning regulars, a fat old man who had retired from Detroit to a doublewide trailer in Saguaro.
The jeep was lurching now; the engine was going to cut out at any moment. Andy turned down Second Street onto Main Street. At the end of the block was the biggest, most solidly constructed building in town. The county courthouse was constructed of black lava rock, with Gothic towers on either side. Most of the tourist brochures of Saguaro featured the old building.
He pulled up in front, and the old jeep gave up at the same moment. Andy reached out and silently patted the dashboard. The vehicle seemed more alive to him at that moment than the wild beasts running through the streets. There were several Tuskers at the top of the stairs, pushing their heads against the glass double doors. Andy could see that people had piled chairs and tables against the doors.
The Tuskers turned as one and stared at the newcomers. The lead pig hunched over, grunting loudly.
“You ready?” he asked, turning to Kathy.
She shook Seth, who from his expression appeared to be somewhere else, then took his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. “We have to run for it, Seth. Can you do it?”
Her voice seemed to lend her assistant some strength. He nodded jerkily and straightened up.
Kathy had her gun in hand. She looked at Andy with a determined expression and gave him a nod. Andy started to open his door, and out of the corner of his eye caught Kathy picking up the camera. He frowned at her. “Really?”
Kathy shrugged. “I’m not missing this story, even if it kills me,” she said in a tone that brooked no disagreement.
Tough lady, indeed.
Andy threw open the door and jumped out. He took aim over the top of the hood at the pigs, who charged at the sound of him emerging.
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