The Last Pilgrims

by Michael Bunker

  They came upon the small town of Big Lake, Texas at around two in the morning on the third day. Riding a ways past Big Lake, they had abruptly lost the trail; so they had doubled back. It was obvious that the kidnappers had chosen to sleep the night away in Big Lake, and the posse had easily tracked them to an abandoned motel outside of town.

  After a long discussion, they had decided against trying to take Jonathan as his captors slept. It was too risky, and they much preferred to set up an ambush where they could take out the kidnappers with less of a probability of hurting or killing Jonathan Wall.

  Riding westward, they identified the perfect location for their ambush in the small ghost town of Texon, Texas. It just so happened that, unbeknownst to probably just about everyone who was not in the militia, Texon was a militia way station, and the old man who lived there was the last resident of the old town, and a long-time friend of Phillip himself.

  Approaching Texon, after giving a strong militia approach signal, they had been met there by the blind old man named Oswald. Oswald maintained the town as a militia post for outriders, and in exchange the militia regularly brought him food and supplies. The old man was generally left alone by looters, because they found him to be harmless and there was nothing obvious to steal from the ghost town.

  In reality, Texon served a purpose not completely unlike that of the Harmony facility, only Texon was not an orphanage or a school. There were several hidden underground storage units and root cellars in the town that were still used by the militia outriders on a regular basis. In the early 20th century, when Texon was a booming oil town, the people were still smart enough to build root cellars under their homes. The homes were collapsed or gone now, but many of the root cellars remained.

  Phillip and others had tried to convince Oswald to move out of the town—they really didn’t need him there, and hated to expose him to looter violence—but the old man steadfastly rejected their offers. Texon was his town, and he only planned to leave it upon his death.

  Oswald fed them an early breakfast and gave fodder and water to their horses. The old man had been fascinated to meet Ruth, and had talked to her and asked her questions throughout the short morning meal. The militia posse then posted guards while, two at a time, they were permitted a few hours of sleep. Hood had stayed behind at Big Lake to track the Aztlanis, just in case, for some unknown reason, they did something unexpected and avoided Texon completely.

  They were not surprised, though, when the kidnappers did not arrive until nearly noon. As they waited, Rollo shook his head in disgust. The bums had probably slept until mid-morning, wasting the cool traveling time altogether.

  Ruth, Timothy, and the Claim boy had taken up positions on the opposite side of the main street that ran into the ghost town. Rollo, Piggy, and Rob Fosse had taken the main attack position behind the old service station.

  “How come you never took a wife, Rob Fosse?” Piggy asked, smiling.

  “Oh, no woman with any sense would have me, Piggy! I’m way too beautiful, and they wouldn’t want to compete,” Rob answered, smiling back.

  “And what about you, Mountain?” Piggy asked, looking at him. “Are you too beautiful to take a wife?”

  “I’m married to my job; besides, I don’t have time right now; maybe someday, after I retire from the militia.”

  “I never heard of anyone retiring from the militia. Even this old man Oswald is militia down to his bones,” Piggy said.

  “You’d be surprised,” was all Rollo said in response.

  Piggy turned back to him and replied with almost a frightening calm on his face and in his voice, “Oh, I’m never surprised, Mountain.”

  A cold chill went down his spine as, just for the briefest moment, he wondered if Piggy had figured out what was happening. But he let it pass. There was no way even Piggy could know what had happened back at the Wall ranch. The cold calm disappeared from Piggy’s face as he looked back up the road. “Maybe after you retire, you’ll become rich and famous, and you’ll have a job for ol’ Piggy!”

  Rollo squinted his eyes at Piggy. What the devil is he up to? Probably nothing. Probably just an overactive imagination on my part.

  Rob Fosse was laughing by this time, as he glanced up at the sun in order to gauge the time. “They should be along at any time now. Even Aztlani soldiers can’t be this stupid.”

  Piggy chuckled. “It’s not always stupidity. You’d be surprised at what mental mistakes even intelligent men make when they’re out of tune with the reality that surrounds them… right, Mountain?”

  “As per usual, I have no idea what you are even talking about, Piggy,” he answered, the sweat starting to roll down his face in waves.

  “Yeah, Piggy,” Rob Fosse said. “What are you talking about? What is it to be in tune with the reality that surrounds us?”

  “It’s Piggy’s Way,” he said matter-of-factly. “Piggy doesn’t do things artificially, or against the invisible but palpable flow of nature, honor, and good sense. Piggy’s Way is kind of like my militia version of Occam’s Razor.” Piggy spun a knife heedlessly on the palm of his hand. “Occam’s Razor suggests that, when faced with competing hypotheses that are equal in other respects, you are usually safer to choose the one that makes the fewest new assumptions. Piggy’s Way suggest that there is an ebb and flow that is reality, and that it generally does not pay to be in constant struggle with the primal nature of things. Piggy’s Way also often involves speaking of oneself in the third person.”

  “How, then, can Piggy be in conflict and war against Aztlan?” Rollo asked, smirking. “Isn’t Aztlan the ‘nature of things’ right now?”

  “You misunderstand Piggy’s Way, Mountain. Piggy’s Way does not assume that there is no struggle against evil, or sin, or greed. That is actually our most primal struggle, and we ought to engage in it heartily. If you go back far enough, there was no such conflict; and so the Garden of Eden establishes good and right before such things as treason, sin, or death entered in.” Piggy stopped spinning the knife and used it to point off to the northwest, before continuing. “Aztlan… at least as it stands today, is in conflict with good and right, and therefore Piggy’s Way is to be in conflict with Aztlan. It’s really quite elementary.”

  Rob Fosse stared at Piggy, shaking his head. “Staggering. Truly staggering, Piggy. I have no idea what you just said, but… but… I think I love you!”

  Both Piggy and Rob broke down laughing at that, as Rollo just stared at them, trying to mask his disgust at their levity.

  Just as their laughter began to die down, they saw in the distance the outline of the kidnapper’s party as they approached the outskirts of Texon.

  The three men, through years of training and practice, instantly snapped into readiness mode. Rollo crept stealthily along a low wall that ran from the service station to an old partially collapsed building that he could not identify. He continued to move slowly and quietly as Jonathan Wall and his captors approached the old man Oswald, who had walked out to meet them. Still worried about Piggy, he glanced warily over his shoulder and saw the militiaman at the corner of the service station, focused on what was going on out front.

  Feeling better, Rollo began to crawl again. He was hoping to be able to reach a spot where he could take a shot with his bow at Jonathan, and hopefully he could hit Rob Fosse too. If he could pull it off, it could still be explained away as “friendly fire.” After all, things like that happen in battle all of the time. If he could not take out Rob Fosse without it looking too suspicious, he would bide his time in killing Phillip’s best friend. Perhaps he could get Rob in his sleep, before high-tailing it to New Rome to claim his prize.

  He finally reached an upright portion of the wall that stood about 48 inches high, and he steadied himself against it, waiting on a signal from Piggy or Rob Fosse that they were to open fire. He turned around again to look at Piggy. Man, that guy has me freaked out! But Piggy was still in the ready mode as Oswald spoke loudly to the leader of the kidnappe
rs about water.

  Rollo pulled an arrow out of his quiver and placed it onto the bow string. He peaked around the edge of the wall to see if he could get a good shot at Jonathan, and just as he pulled back he felt a heavy thump on the back of his head… and before he could register surprise, the lights went out.

  Chapter 23 - Phillip

  Being shot by someone you have cared for and fought with can be more traumatic than the carnal damage caused by a bullet tearing through flesh and muscle. Spies are an integral part of warfare, and he, of all people, was fully aware of that fact, having engaged and utilized spies both in New Rome and in El Paso. Still, one never gets used to treachery and disloyalty, especially when it happens within one’s closest circle. He looked down at the dressings on his wound. Getting shot is bad too.

  It had all happened so fast. He saw Rollo—the man he thought was his friend—raise the pistol and fire, and it seemed to him in that moment that time slowed down to a snail’s pace. Although it happened in milliseconds, he seemed to be frozen in place. There was the crack of the first shot and David falling backwards off of his horse; then, The Mountain pointing the pistol at him. He was unable to react quickly enough and the second shot tore through his right side, unhorsing him as well. He hit the ground next to David.

  He lay there stunned for a few seconds. Then he reached over to try to check on David, pulling himself up in order to try to help. The first shot had struck Jonathan’s son directly in the center of the chest, probably taking out a good portion of his heart. David Wall was dead.

  He lay down on David, and then he felt himself being lifted up onto a stretcher and hurried into the house. He was trying to give commands as his clothes were being cut off of him, but all he could remember saying at the time was… “Rollo… It was Rollo… Rollo did it.”

  Gareth was there, shouting orders and probing the wound, calling for alcohol for disinfectant and for some tools. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was seeing Ana enter. She scanned the room, noting that Phillip was being worked on, and that David Wall was completely covered with a blanket. The recognition that he was dead seemed to wash over her like a tidal wave of dread and sorrow. Next, her eyes fixed on the Crown Prince, and she screamed “Gareth!” at the top of her lungs, before dropping some jars and crocks that she had been holding and slumping in a dead faint to the floor. He was trying to get up to help her when the edges of his vision went to gray… and then everything went to black.

  He must have been out for quite some time because when he came to, he was lying on a cot with a pillow under his head and a cool, wet towel on his forehead. He could hear voices, and after some concentration and effort, he was able to make out what they were saying through the fog. Everything didn’t make sense to him at the time, but Gareth was telling Ana why he wasn’t dead.

  “When Rollo came in with the tea, he said that you had ordered him to bring it to me,” Gareth explained.

  “I did no such thing!” Ana replied, obviously very frustrated and upset.

  “I didn’t know what to think, but I was suspicious. You had never done that before. I looked at the tea, and it seemed as if Rollo was very tense, and his jaw was clinched in a way that made me sense that something was wrong. And here is the clincher… you may not have a good grasp of such things, but, as royalty, I was raised with the ever-present threat of poisoning. From a small child I was taught to always be careful and suspicious of food and drink brought by someone when the situation is strange or unnatural. Also, we were taught how many of the most popular and notorious poisons smell. The tell-tale smell of dead mouse coming from that tea made it both unpalatable, and a candidate for poison—particularly hemlock.”

  Ana was still highly agitated. “So if you didn’t drink the tea, then why were you squirming around on the bed, doubled over as if you had been poisoned?” she asked.

  “Well, in one sense I was poisoned… I did take a drink of the tea, and was feeling some effects, but when Rollo left I immediately spit it out. I was experiencing some mild stomach cramps and numbness in my feet, which I expected, but the dosage that I consumed was minimal.” He looked at her apologetically. “I’m ashamed to say that, in the heat of the moment, Ana… I… had a passing thought that maybe you might have been in on it. So when you walked in I feigned sickness in order to measure your reaction. As soon as you ran out like you did, I knew that you weren’t involved, and I apologize for ever having entertained that thought. I am truly sorry to have hurt you.”

  “Oh, please don’t be sorry!” Ana said excitedly. “I understand completely. Your suspicions saved your life.”

  “When you ran out the way you did, and I realized that you were not involved, I immediately tried to run after you. When I got into the front room here, I saw Rollo walk past the far window with a pistol in his hand. Rushing to the window over there, I saw David and Phillip ride up. I yelled to them, but it was too late. When I heard the shots, I tried to run after Rollo, but I was still suffering from symptoms of the hemlock, and my feet would not respond as I would have wished… I stumbled. When I did get outside, he was gone.”

  “Oh, my, my, my!” Ana cried, beginning to rock back and forth, “and now my beautiful David is dead!” She began sobbing uncontrollably, and Gareth did what he could to console her.

  Phillip’s head was throbbing, and his side was really starting to hurt. He sat up stiffly, and when Gareth and Ana saw him, they ran to him shouting that he should lie back down.

  He refused them, and, sitting up in the cot, he shook his head to try to clear it. The throbbing pain in his side was familiar, and he knew he could handle the pain; the big threat now would come from infection. He looked at Gareth and clinched his jaw. “Give me a report, please, Prince.”

  “David is dead,” Gareth replied, sadly.

  “I saw that before I passed out.” He looked to Ana and his face softened. “I am so, so sorry for your loss Ana. If I could have done anything…,” he paused. “Please let us do whatever we can do to help you with this.”

  Ana looked up with tears streaming down her face. “There is nothing anyone can do to bring David back.” She looked down and twisted a handkerchief in her hand. “His father needs to know.”

  Phillip just nodded his head. What can I say? No doubt Rollo was now on his way to meet up with the posse so he could kill Jonathan. What can I do? There is no way to catch a single, intelligent, trained militiaman alone on the run. The Ghost militia were trained much too well for that. Our only hope is Piggy… or Rob Fosse. One of them will need to sniff out Rollo before he can kill Jonathan. As much as he liked Rob, the only one he knew… absolutely knew… was better and smarter than The Mountain was Piggy. Lord, I pray to you right now to give our brother Piggy wisdom and understanding. Let him know what to do!

  Phillip called for his inner circle, and then struggled to his feet. He was dizzy for a moment, but after a minute the dizziness passed.

  Gareth looked at him and shook his head. “I guess you were right when you said that you’d received ‘a dozen such nicks’ and that you had never let them slow you down,” Gareth said.

  “No. I was wrong. What I said was, ‘they never even made me sleepy,’ and as you can see, I just woke up.”

  “Maybe you should take it easy for a few days.”

  “I will, Prince. I need to give some orders, and then I promise I’ll take it easy.”

  “Something tells me that that promise is nothing but an empty shell.”

  “Let’s just say that it is an honest reflection of my deepest intentions. Perhaps ‘promise’ was too firm a word.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Within minutes, Pachuco Reyes, Longbow, Enos Flynn, Tyrell of Terrell, and Gareth were all standing around him as he stood by the table. Everyone was appropriately awed and saddened by the death of David Wall, but as militiamen they were all serious and ready for action. Death was an ever-present reality in war.

  “I pray that that was the
end of us having spies at the round table?” Phillip asked rhetorically, with just a hint of a smile. “We need to get back to work, because Aztlan is not sleeping. In fact, the beast is stirring. We have a slight advantage for now, because they will think that Gareth and I are both dead. That will embolden them. We’ll be a surprise to them when they see us again in battle. Hopefully it will be like when the dead Cid, strapped to his warhorse Babieca, led his men against the Almoravids in Spain. Who knows, maybe Aztlan might even drop their weapons and run.”

  “Maybe,” replied Tyrell, “after all, you are the Ghost. And I always wondered why you named your horse Babieca. It seemed to be such a strange name.”

  “I need you men to carefully and respectfully prepare David’s body for burial. We will go ahead and seal his body in a coffin, but place it in the springhouse for now. It will do for a few days. We will all pray that his father returns in time to see him buried. If he doesn’t, we will have the burial in three days’ time.”

  “Yes, sir,” Pachuco Reyes replied, “we will see that it is all done properly and that everything is ready.” The militiaman paused for a moment in reflection, before continuing. “Most of the Vallenses who had fled north have now returned.” Pachuco hesitated for a moment. “I must say, Maestro, that it is… necessary… that David’s sister Elizabeth be informed of what has happened. She and her husband are camped in the main Vallensian camp at the front of the ranch.”

  Phillip pondered for a moment, looking down at the table. “Prince Gareth, I would like you to take Ana… when she is ready… and go do this thing.”

  “I will, Phillip,” Gareth replied.

  Phillip stood up straight, unconsciously stretching the muscle in his side that had been pierced by the bullet. “There is no doubt in my mind, that this attack was a precursor to a larger campaign. I expect that the remainder of the Duke’s army is heading this way even now. I doubt they will use trucks as they did before—but they certainly could. We have some time to prepare, but it may not be much.” He rapped his knuckles hard against the table, and frowned. “They think we’re finished. They think that Prince Gareth and I are dead, and we’ll let them keep thinking that. They think that they have ‘cut off the head’ and that the body will wither up and die. They will find out that they have been horribly wrong!”