The Great Martian War

by Scott Washburn

  Someone bumped into her and nearly knocked her down. Only then did she turn around. The Martian was only about fifty feet away now, towering over them. Its single red eye seemed to be staring right at her. The soldier who had been on guard was working the bolt on his rifle and pulling the trigger again and again, but the gun was empty and all it produced was a click. Sergeant Dolfen had his pistol drawn, but wasn’t firing. The others were all in a clump pushing slowly back.

  Suddenly one of the soldiers, Private Johnson, screamed and ran. He leapt over one of the smoldering trenches, but before he could go another dozen paces, the heat ray blasted him to a cloud of smoke.

  “Stand your ground!” shouted Dolfen. “If it wanted to kill us, we’d all be dead now!” Everyone huddled behind the Sergeant, staring at the machine. What was happening? Why hadn’t it killed them? Becca squeezed in behind Dolfen, trembling like a leaf.

  The thing just stood there, like some ancient god deciding on what doom to pronounce for the puny mortals at its feet. The seconds ticked on and on for what seemed like hours. Mrs. Gordon was whimpering and her boy was crying. “No one move!” hissed Dolfen.

  Finally, the giant stirred. It took a few steps backward on its long, spikey legs. Was it leaving? But then the heat ray lashed out again. For an instant Becca thought the god had decreed death. But the ray passed over them like before. Looking back, they saw the ray was again sweeping between the walls of the canyon, but now on each sweep it was coming closer and closer!

  “Move!” cried Dolfen. “Forward!”

  There was no choice. Step by terrified step, they stumbled forward, toward the Martian. It continued to retreat before them, just as the heat ray continued to advance behind them. They were forced to follow the machine down to the end of the canyon. Becca glanced to her left and saw that there was a second canyon that came down out of the hills; that was how the Martian had gotten so close unseen.

  As they came out into the open and were no longer hemmed in by the canyon, one of the men from Ramah tried to run for it, but he was destroyed just like Private Johnson had been. He didn’t get twenty feet.

  “Stay together, dammit!” snarled Dolfen. “We can’t escape like this! Not now! We’ll wait for a better chance!”

  The two deadly examples were enough. No one strayed far from the sergeant. Once the Martian had them in the open, it used the heat ray and its long thing tentacles to herd them forward, with it following behind.

  “Where’s it taking us?” whispered Becca.

  “It looks like we’re going northwest—toward Gallup.”

  “What’s it going to do with us?” whimpered Mrs. Gordon.

  The sergeant didn’t answer.

  Chapter Nine

  February, 1909, Near Fort Wingate, New Mexico Territory

  “What are they going to do with them, sir?”

  Andrew cut short an angry reply. This was at least the twentieth time one of his men had asked that question. He and his troops had been shadowing the Martians and their captives for two days now and every day someone—usually half a dozen someones—asked him the question. How the hell should I know? Except that he did know. The classified reports from the first invasion in England said that the Martians fed themselves by draining the blood out of animals. Out of people. We’re just food to them. It was a horrifying, infuriating notion. How dare they? How dare they treat people as food? Okay, they had heat rays and big war machines and they could travel between the worlds. But humans hadn’t done too badly, either! We’ve built big cities and the pyramids and railways and we’re digging a canal across Panama! We’re clearly intelligent beings!

  His thoughts went back to a long-ago conversation he’d had with Colonel Hawthorne where he’d compared the Martian invasion of Earth with the European’s invasion of the Americas. Yes, the Europeans had ignored the accomplishments of the Aztecs and Incas and killed and enslaved them. But they didn’t eat them!

  Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. Maybe the incidents in England had been acts of desperation. Maybe the Martians had lost their own food supplies somehow and had to prey on humans or starve. Maybe they didn’t eat people as a routine. If that’s the case then what are they going to do with the prisoners? Slaves? Laboratory animals to be vivisected? Zoo exhibits? Not comforting thoughts, to be sure, but better than being eaten. Well, vivisection would be about as bad, he supposed. Worse, maybe.

  “Runnin’ out o’ cover up ahead, sir. What do we do?”

  Andrew jerked out of his dark thoughts. Sergeant McGill had come up next to him and was pointing ahead. Yes, it was true. They had been following the Martians on a parallel course, keeping to the cover of the foothills so they wouldn’t be seen. But up ahead, the land was flattening out and if they kept going, they would be spotted for sure. There were just twelve of them now. They’d left one man back at the mine with Captain Selfridge. They had two extra horses they were using to carry the supplies they’d found. A small party, but still too large to escape being seen out in the open.

  “We could swing further south, up that way,” he said. “More cover there.”

  “But we’d probably lose sight of them if we did that, sir.”

  “Yes, but they’ve been following the path of the railway without deviating a bit, Sergeant. After all this time, I think we can assume they’ll keep doing so. If we pick up our pace and swing wide to the south, we can get ahead of them and then wait for them to catch up again.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Andrew looked closely at McGill. He still wasn’t quite sure what to make of the man. He was always perfectly courteous with his yes sirs and no sirs, but every now and then he’d throw in a very good sir when it seemed like he truly agreed with one of Andrew’s decisions. He was pleased when he got one of those, but it also made him wonder what was really going on in the Scotsman’s head when he just got a yes sir.

  He gave the order and they turned further south. As McGill had said, they quickly lost sight of the Martian machines and their captives. There weren’t so many captives anymore and that was weighing on his mind as well. More and more of them were dropping and unable to get up again. Neither the threat of instant incineration nor the entreaties of their comrades could rouse them. Once or twice he’d seen men who were still on their feet refusing to leave a fallen comrade and both men had died. Clearly, the captives were getting weaker and weaker. They did have some food in their haversacks—or they did when they’d started, it was probably all eaten by now—and they’d passed over several creeks where they’d filled their canteens, so they hadn’t gone completely hungry or thirsty, but surely they couldn’t go much farther without more rest. Did the Martians realize this? Did that mean they were getting close to their destination? Or perhaps they didn’t care—although it seemed foolish to take all this time to herd their captives along, only to destroy them all anyway.

  “Where do you think they’re headed?” asked Bill White. He got asked that question a lot, too. The newspaper man had insisted on coming along. He’d tried to convince him to stay back at the mine with Tom Selfridge, but here he was.

  “I’m guessing Fort Wingate or Gallup,” he replied. “The men can’t go much farther than that.”

  “And what do you think is there?”

  “No idea. Maybe the Martians are setting up some sort of base.”

  “I suppose that would make sense. If they are really planning to conquer the Earth, they’ll need to permanently occupy places to operate out of. They can’t hope to control everything from their original landing sites.”

  “No, that’s true, especially when those sites are so far away from our cities and all. You’re quite the strategist, Mr. White.”

  “Just common sense.”

  “At the Academy they taught us that common sense is one of the most important things a good commander can have.”

  “Really? Do you suppose that General Sumner skipped class the day they taught that?”

  Andrew was silent for a whi
le before he answered. “He… he didn’t do too badly considering the situation.”

  “He got his whole army destroyed! How could he have done worse?”

  Andrew shrugged. “It’s a whole new type of warfare. No one’s ever had to deal with something like this before. An enemy whose entire force is composed of highly mobile, heavily armored, heavily armed machines? A lot of the old rules just don’t apply anymore. Tactically, anyway. Strategically? I’m not sure. But I think you’re right that they’ll need to build outposts and fortresses and bases of operation. As powerful as their machines are, they’ve only got a limited number of them. We estimate that two hundred cylinders landed. If each one has three machines in it then that’s only six hundred spread over the whole world. If they really do mean to conquer us, they will have to build bases where they can dig mines and build factories so they can build more machines.” He lowered his voice. “And they’ll need food. Or places to store their food, anyway. Maybe that’s where they are taking our men.”

  White nodded. “So the rumors are true, eh? But you were right to tell me to shut up, Major. It’s a damn scary idea, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir. Damn scary.”

  The conversation died and they concentrated on making their best time through the rugged terrain along the base of the mountains. The mountains themselves had dwindled considerably as they proceeded west. There were now just some ridges only four or five hundred feet higher than the plains to the north. But most of the slopes were steep and covered with pine trees. It was slow going, but Andrew was confident they were still moving a lot faster than those poor devils being herded by the Martians.

  Around noon, a strong smell of smoke filled the air. They proceeded cautiously and soon came around the curve of one of the hills to see Fort Wingate spread out in front of them. Or what was left of it. The place looked to have been about two dozen large wooden buildings enclosing a big parade ground on three sides, with many more, smaller buildings scattered about. Now, all those structures had been burned to the ground. Some were just blackened rectangles on the ground, but others had sizeable piles of debris remaining. A few of those were still giving off thin clouds of smoke. Smaller black patches showed where men had died. Andrew had become all-too familiar with the looks of those.

  They studied the place for a while, but there was no sign of any Martians in the vicinity, so they rode down and took a closer look. No one had any doubt what had happened, but there were hundreds of the triangular holes in the ground that the feet of the tripods made if any confirmation was needed. The destruction was nearly total, although ironically, the fort’s flag pole was untouched, and the Stars and Stripes rippled gently in the breeze. They spotted a few charred bodies in the piles of debris, apparently men killed by the burning buildings rather than the heat rays directly. Someone suggested burying them, but there clearly wasn’t time and Andrew said no, even though it hurt to do so. The smell was becoming overpowering, so they didn’t want to linger long. They were just about to press on when a cry brought them to a halt.

  “Hey! Hey there! Wait!”

  Andrew looked around for the source and then spotted a lone figure running out of the woods that covered the ridge to the south. He was waving his arms and shouting. They turned their horses and trotted toward him. As they got closer they could see that the man was wearing a soot-covered uniform; his hands and face were also blackened with soot. He stopped and waited for them, gasping for breath.

  “Oh, thank God! Thank God! I didn’t think anyone was ever gonna come!”

  “Were you part of the garrison here, soldier?” asked Andrew, reining his horse to a stop. “What’s your name?”

  “Yes… yes, sir. 5th Cavalry. Name’s Flanagan, sir.”

  “What happened?” It was a stupid question: there was no doubt what had happened. But he wanted to hear it from the man.

  “Martians, sir! Just like everyone was talking about! Big as life! Have you seen ‘em?”

  “Yes. But what happened here, Private? Can you tell me?”

  “Yessir, it was… I dunno, a few weeks ago. Lost track of the days, sir. A day or two after those messengers from the colonel came back. I was on watch one night. There was this bright red glow from off toward Gallup. A fire for sure. I told the sergeant of the guard and he sent me to tell the officer of the day. I hadn’t but got to his office when those… things came busting into the fort! It was hell sir, pure hell. Everything on fire, people running and screaming. I emptied my rifle into one of them giants, but it didn’t do no good! After that… after that, there wasn’t nothing to do but try to get out. What else could I do, sir?” The man looked at him beseechingly, like he was expecting Andrew to grant him absolution for surviving. “What else could I do?”

  “Nothing, Private, nothing at all. You did right to stay alive so you could report.”

  The look of relief on the man’s face made Andrew want to weep. He and all his men were alive only because they’d gotten out. So they could report. Yeah, so they could report. “Did anyone else get away?”

  “Yeah, yeah, there were about a dozen of us that got up into the hills.”

  “They still up there?”

  “No, well, there’s Lieutenant Davis. He was hurt bad and couldn’t move. I stayed with him. Couldn’t just leave him there. But the others, they wouldn’t stay. They left after a couple of days. But I couldn’t leave the lieutenant. Have you got a doctor with you?” He looked around, his eyes searching. “When’s the rest of the relief getting here? They’ll have a doctor, won’t they?”

  An uneasy silence settled over the group. Finally, Andrew said: “They’re still a ways off, Private. We were just scouting ahead. Might be a while before they get here. But can you take us to your lieutenant? We might be able to do something.”

  “Sure, sir! Follow me!” His face lit up like a puppy invited for a walk. He turned and went back the way he had come, past the burned-out buildings, and then up the hill to the south. The way was steep and they were all forced to dismount to follow the path. After perhaps a quarter of a mile they came to a little hollow in the hillside where a crude lean-to had been constructed out of pine branches. Someone was lying under it. “There he is!” pointed Flanagan. “Sir! Sir! I’ve brought help!”

  The figure didn’t move and there was a smell in the air that made Andrew cringe. McGill went forward and knelt down for a moment and then shook his head. He got up and came over. “Been gone a while, sir. At least a few days.” He sniffed. “Maybe more.”

  Flanagan was still talking excitedly about help arriving. Andrew took him by the arm. “Soldier… Soldier! Your lieutenant’s dead. I’m sorry.” The man reacted like he’d been punched in the belly. He looked at the body and then and Andrew and back again. Then he collapsed to the ground and started crying.

  “Poor blighter,” said McGill.

  “Yes, but what the hell are we going to do with him? I hate to just leave him here, but there’s no question of taking him with us.”

  “No, that’s true, sir. We could send him back to the mine where we left Captain Selfridge. The pack horses are carrying half loads now, we could put everything on one and give him the other.”

  “He’d never find it on his own.”

  “No, but if we sent someone with him…”

  “We can’t really spare anyone, Sergeant.”

  “I know sir, I know, but… well, I’m worried about Lansing.” McGill jerked his head toward one of the men.

  “Lansing? What’s the matter with him?”

  “Not sure, but he’s been acting a bit quirky lately, if you take my meaning, sir. His pal got killed during the fight and he’s taken it hard. And this… uh, mission you’ve got us on, I’m afraid it might be more than he can take.”

  “I… see,” said Andrew slowly, trying hard not to stare at Private Lansing. His voice fell to a whisper. “Is there anyone else?”

  “Don’t think so, sir. Most of the lads are fine. Scared, sure, but eager to do
something that could hurt those bastards. Lansing is just… well, he needs to go back, I think.”

  “All right. We’ll send him with Flanagan.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Sergeant? Thanks for noticing that. I should have seen it myself.”

  “My job, sir. You’ve got other things on your mind.”

  They buried Lieutenant Davis as quickly as they could and sent the two men back the way they’d come. Lansing protested at first, but quickly gave in and then looked relieved. Yes, better not to take him along. He tried to convince Mr. White to go with them, but the newspaperman insisted on continuing. So Andrew and the ten others moved out and put as much distance between Fort Wingate and themselves as they could before nightfall. They stayed up on the ridge, among the trees, as much as they could and it wasn’t until the sun was going down that they got a clear view out to the west. The town of Gallup ought to be off that way… but…

  “What the devil is that?” said McGill.

  “What? Oh!” A half dozen miles out onto the plain there was an odd line drawn across the ground. It seemed to bend toward them and then away again before vanishing in the evening mist. Andrew pulled out his field glasses.

  “What is it, sir?”

  “I think it’s what we’ve been looking for.”

  “Sir?”

  “It’s some sort of embankment, an earthen wall that’s been piled up. Around the town, I guess. It looks to be a huge circle, a few miles in diameter at least.”

  “See any of the Martians?”

  “No… no, I don’t see any of the tripods, but there are several dust clouds rising up from behind the embankment. This has got to be some sort of base or fort!”