“A little.”
“How far is it? Can we hide there?”
She spoke to the Indians and got a reply. “They say it is two or three miles. And there are places for all to hide.”
“Well let’s go then! Tell ‘em the ‘trouble’ is right on our heels!” The whole group of them moved off. Dolfen ordered all the riders to dismount and lead their horses since they could move no faster than the foot-bound Indians.
It was fully dark and despite their urgent need to find cover, they could not move very fast. They tripped and stumbled their way forward, following the Pueblos. They had been going on for what seemed hours, but probably wasn’t nearly that long when one of the civilians cried: “Look! It’s coming!”
Everyone looked back and to their dismay they could see a faint red light in the distance. Not that close, but not nearly far enough. “Keep moving!” snarled Dolfen. “We’re almost there!” He hoped he was right.
Another ten minutes and the dark wall of a cliff loomed up in front of them. Their destination? The Indians began talking again. “They say there’s a little box canyon over there where we can leave the horses,” said Harding. “There’s a path leading up the cliff to the refuge right here.”
The Indians started up immediately, but the rest had to drag their exhausted mounts into the canyon and make sure they couldn’t wander out again. Then it was back to the path leading upward. Dolfen looked south but couldn’t spot the Martian. Where was it?
They scrambled up the path as quickly as they could, but it was difficult and treacherous. One wrong step could send a person falling into the blackness. By the time he reached the top he was going on all fours, gasping for breath. The Indians were waiting and half-dragged them into an opening in the rock. Dolfen hung back to make sure everyone was up.
When the last person was inside, he looked back and flung himself flat on the ground. The Martian was there, maybe half a mile away. Dolfen was much higher now and looking down on the machine. Was it still on their trail? He watched, holding his breath, but then slowly let it out again. The Martian was moving, but not toward him. It was hard to tell, but it looked to be going northwest. Yes! Minute by minute it was sliding by him to the west; not getting any closer. Finally, an outthrust portion of the ridge blocked the view and it was gone. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cold rock.
“Sarge? Sarge?” It was Urbaniak. “What’s happening?”
“It’s gone,” he replied getting to his feet. He went through the opening in the rock into pitch blackness. He could hear all the people around him, but couldn’t see them. “Okay, I think we’re safe. But we can’t risk a fire. So everyone settle down and try to get some sleep.”
* * * * *
Cycle 597,843.3, North of Landing Site 32
Qetjnegartis was beginning to have doubts about this world. It was… wet. There was water everywhere; in the soil, standing in open pools, even falling from the sky! During the destruction of the enemy warriors there was a heavy precipitation which reduced the effective range of the heat rays by nearly half. At longer ranges, the ray merely created clouds of steam.
Of course it was well known from prior observations that the planet had huge amounts of water—three-quarters of the surface was covered by seas, and much of the planet was often obscured by clouds of water vapor. But even so, all the implications of this had not been considered. Precipitation, in particular—the water moved around.
And once the water had fallen, it reduced the soil to a slippery, sticky… muck. Just now Qetjnegartis’ machine had become almost completely mired in an especially deep patch of the stuff. It was quickly becoming obvious that there were flaws in the design of the war machines. The bottoms of the lower limbs had narrow cross sections which created a great deal of ground pressure. The limb would simply sink into the water-softened soil. Qetjnegartis’ machine had sunk in deeper than the first joint on one leg and it took a great deal of time and effort to extricate itself. For a few moments it thought that it was going to have to call for help from its clanmates. Once free, it had attempted to stay on rocky ground—further slowing its pace.
And the lost time had allowed a band of prey to escape. They were of no consequence in their own right, and it would not waste more time searching, but it was still… irritating.
No matter. There would be more opportunities ahead.
* * * * *
December, 1908, New Mexico Territory
Becca Harding opened her eyes and saw the dim shapes of people all around her. The long night had finally come to an end and a grey light was leaking through the opening into the cave. She didn’t need her sight to know about all those people. She had heard them snoring and weeping, grunting and groaning all night. And the smell of wet leather, wet wool, and sweat-soaked people filled the air.
Shifting slightly, she found she was leaning against a rock wall, wedged between one of the soldiers and a little Pueblo boy, both still sound asleep. She was so tired she wanted to follow their example, but a growing pressure in her bladder forced her to move. Just trying to stand produced waves of pain from her muscles. The ordeal of the last few days had taken its toll and she hurt from head to toe.
Picking her way over and around the other people in the room—cave?—she made it to the entrance and breathed in a lungful of cold, clean air, bringing her fully awake. She carefully peered out the opening in the rock, fearful of spotting a metal giant waiting for her to reveal herself. But there was a commanding view from the cliff dwelling and the plain below seemed empty of threats.
“Don’t worry, miss, they’re gone.”
Only now did she see the blanket-wrapped figure sitting with his back against the rock and his knees drawn up to his chest. A rifle was leaning next to him. It was the sergeant, the one who had taken care of her. He was staring at her now with red-rimmed eyes, his face gray with fatigue. “Are… are you sure?”
“As sure as I can be from here. Nothing moving down there at all—and those things are hard to miss. But what are you doing up so early? You should sleep.”
“I need to… uh… you know…” She felt herself blushing.
“Oh. There’s a room, two doors down, with a pit in it. I think that’s what it’s for. Be careful you don’t fall in.” He smiled slightly.
“Thank you.” She moved down the ledge in the direction he’d indicated. To her left was a frightening drop-off and the ledge was only a few feet wide. She stayed close to the rock wall on her right. She came to one opening in the rock, like a doorway, but she couldn’t see anything within. She kept going and found the second door and edged inside. It took a few moments for her eyes to adjust but she eventually found the pit and made use of it. She went back the way she’d come and after a slight hesitation, she sat down next to the Sergeant. Dolfen, his name was Dolfen.
“What are we going to do now?” she asked. “Do you think the… the Martians have gone?”
“I think they all kept moving north,” he replied. “They aren’t going to waste time looking for a little group like us—I hope.”
“North, but didn’t you say that’s where your fort is?”
“Yeah. I’m a bit worried about that. But we sent riders back there as soon as we found you. They’ll be there by now. There’s a telegraph and the railroad. They’ll have sent for help and maybe it’s there now, or on the way.”
“So will we be going on; to your fort?”
“Not for a few days. Our horses are shot. We’ll have to let them rest for a while. As soon as the others are awake, we’ll go down and do what we can for them—and haul our gear up here. We’ve got enough food on the pack horse to last us all a couple of days. After that we can get moving again.”
She stared at the man. He had a strong face, but the skin was tanned and creased like old leather. He’d spent a lot of time outdoors in the sun. “Thank you… thank you for taking care of me, Sergeant.”
He looked embarrassed by her thanks. “Don’t mention it. M’job.”
“And thanks for bringing my horse along. Ninny’s… my friend.” Dolfen just grunted. “I hope… I hope some… most of the other soldiers got away. They were very brave.”
“I’m sure some got away. They’re probably out there somewhere, hiding like we are. Rifles just aren’t no damn good against those bastards. Beggin’ your pardon. Need to bring up some heavier stuff.”
“My pa… my pa only had a rifle.”
Dolfen didn’t say anything, but she could feel him staring at her.
“Maybe… maybe he got away.” She choked a little bit and swallowed. “I didn’t see… maybe he got away.”
“I hope so, miss.”
She nodded, but in her heart she knew her father was dead, too. Burned up just like her mother and grandmother. Just like the ranch and all the hands and livestock. Everything. It’s all gone. Everything. Her whole world. She sniffled, but she clenched her fist and bit on her tongue so she wouldn’t cry again. This wasn’t the time for it!
“Do… do you have any kin anywhere?” asked Dolfen. “If… when we get you back to the fort, you can send a wire to ‘em. Maybe find somewhere we can send you.”
“I’ve got an aunt and uncle in Santa Fe.” Her mother’s sister and husband; she’d never liked them much.
“Good. You’ll be safe there. We can send you on the train.”
“Uh huh.”
They sat there for a while until the others started getting up. Then she went down the very frightening path—it hadn’t seemed nearly so bad coming up in the dark! At the bottom, she looked back up and was amazed at the complex of dwellings built or carved out of the cliff. The place where they had spent the night was on one of three different levels. She could scarcely imagine the amount of work it must have taken.
The horses were all where they’d left them and they spent a good deal of the morning hauling up their gear and caring for the animals. Poor Ninny seemed better than she’d feared, but he could have been better. She was particularly concerned by the lack of forage. There was a trickle of water at the rear of the canyon, but there wasn’t nearly enough stuff growing there, in the dead of winter, for all those horses to eat. If they couldn’t find something, they were going to die. That thought almost had her crying. Ninny was the only one left; she couldn’t stand the thought of losing him, too. She mentioned her concern to Sergeant Dolfen and he agreed that they’d have to search around to find some forage.
But first they had to see to their own forage. They found enough really dry wood to make a fire that wouldn’t create much smoke and managed to cook a passable breakfast. Becca discovered that she was ravenous, having eaten nothing since the morning before. But they didn’t dare use too much of their food, so she was still hungry afterward.
Then they went back down and scoured the area for fodder. They found enough for the day and laboriously cut it and hauled it back to the canyon. But it had taken a lot of work and tomorrow they’d have to go even farther to find anything.
As the short day drew to a close, they built a fire in a sheltered location, where the light wouldn’t show, and had their supper. It was pretty meager, but there was nothing for it. As they sat around the fire, trying to keep warm, one of the soldiers suddenly laughed.
“Hey, everyone! Merry Christmas!”
This brought forth cries of amazement from the other soldiers, but some cries of woe from the little children. Becca had totally lost track of the days, but the others confirmed that it was indeed Christmas Day. Several of the people started praying. Becca tried, but no words came. The only things she wanted were not the sort of things that God miraculously took care of. He did that sort of stuff in the old days, why doesn’t He anymore? Someone tried to get them singing a hymn, but it fell flat and they gave up. After that, there was nothing left to do but try to sleep.
By some unspoken agreement, all the Indians went off to another room in the complex. The soldiers all stayed in the same one as the previous night and the other civilians picked a third. Becca wasn’t sure which group to stay with. One of the women suggested she go with them, and Sergeant Dolfen seemed to encourage that choice, but after hesitating a while, she went with the soldiers, instead. The woman seemed scandalized, but she was a stranger and the soldiers were not anymore.
The weather had been turning cold again all day and the small fire they dared build didn’t do much to warm up the cold stone. They piled up some of the gear to block a bit of the air from coming in the doorway, but it was still cold. Becca wrapped herself in a blanket that a soldier provided and fell asleep at once, but woke many times during the night.
The next day was much the same except it was getting colder, the sky was clouded over, and looked and felt like snow was on the way. They found enough forage for the horses again, but if it snowed, things could get very bad. And they only had enough food for themselves for two more days. The other people decided that they would go back to their homes the following day. Sergeant Dolfen argued against that, pointing out that their homes had probably been destroyed by the Martians.
“So what do you suggest?” demanded one of the men angrily. “Stay here until we all starve?”
“While we were out today, I spotted the mission of San Lorenzo off in the distance. It looked like it was still standing. The town of Ramah is just beyond. Tomorrow we can go over there and see what we can find. Even if the Martians have been through there, we might be able to find some food and forage. After that, we can head north to Fort Wingate.”
“That’s where the Martians went! Are you crazy?”
“That’s also where the army is going to be!” said Dolfen. “They’re the only ones who can protect you!”
They argued back and forth for a while, but in the end all of the other people decided they would go back to their homes. Only one woman with a little boy decided to go with the soldiers. Becca had less trouble sleeping that night; she was so tired she almost fell asleep during dinner.
Dawn revealed a gloomy sky with light snow falling and the threat of much more. One man changed his mind about going back to his home, but the others quickly saddled their horses and rode off south. Sergeant Dolfen made sure his men were ready almost as quickly.
“Come on! It’s at least six miles to Ramah and we need to get there before the storm really hits!”
The days of rest had done the horses quite a bit of good and Becca rode Ninny. The Indians refused to come and she had no idea what they planned to do, but they couldn’t waste time arguing. They headed west, eight soldiers and four civilians.
The land seemed sad and empty—and frightening. She told herself that the tall Martian machines would be visible for miles and that they couldn’t catch them by surprise, but she wasn’t sure if she really believed that. After an hour or so, the snow got heavier and they couldn’t see very far at all. Would one of the machines suddenly appear out of the snow, too close to run?
Fortunately, the only things that appeared out of the snow were some stray cattle. The soldiers quickly roped them and towed them along, boasting that they’d have steak that night. At least they’d have food for a while, even if this Ramah place had none at all. Nothing else hindered their march and they arrived at the town by mid-morning. It wasn’t much of a town, maybe thirty or forty adobe buildings; not even half the size of Quemado.
The Martians had clearly been through here and fire had swept the settlement. But adobe didn’t burn and with all the rain the previous days, things were well-soaked. There had been a lot of destruction, but it wasn’t total. The soldiers spread out and searched and even though they didn’t find a single person, they did find food and forage. The general store had an underground storage room to keep things cool during the summer months and there were bags of flour and canned goods down there, untouched by the fires. There was also a livery stable with a sodden pile of hay in the back which had only been a little scorched.
The snow was much heavier now, so they quickly got the horses under shelter with plent
y of fodder at hand and then did some hasty repairs to the general store which had one wall pretty well blown out, but most of the roof was still intact. A few hours’ work had the place reasonably weather-tight and a fire was burning in the iron pot-belly stove. They settled in.
“Well, Sarge, this worked out a lot better than I hoped!” said one of the soldiers, Urbaniak, Becca thought; she was slowly learning all their names.
“Yeah,” said Dolfen. “We were lucky. Now we have to stay lucky. Once the snow stops I want lookouts posted where they can see anything approaching. We are gonna pack up all the canned stuff so that we can take it with us. We’ll live on fresh beef and any other perishable stuff we find here. But we have to be ready to move at a moment’s notice.”
“Right, Sarge.”
But the snow didn’t stop. Not that day, or that night. By the time it finally let up the next day, there was nearly two feet on the ground. The white blanket concealed most of the destruction and the town looked almost normal. Lookouts were posted as Sergeant Dolfen had ordered, but aside from checking on the horses from time to time, everyone stayed inside. At first it was nice to be able to rest or sleep or eat as they pleased after their desperate flight, but by that evening they were all getting a little bored. One of the soldiers had a deck of cards and soon a poker game broke out. Becca watched for a while and when one of the soldiers had to go on lookout duty, she decided she would take his spot. The soldiers seemed surprised, and then amused, and after a while, a bit chagrinned when she turned out to be a pretty good (and pretty lucky) poker player. Of course, they were only playing for matchsticks, so it didn’t really matter. Sergeant Dolfen didn’t play, but he watched at a distance and made sure his men watched their language around her.
The following day was clear and very cold with a brisk wind blowing. No one argued with the Sergeant when he said they would stay where they were for a while. Becca felt sorry for the soldiers on lookout duty atop the tallest building in town.
The Great Martian War Page 14
