by David Peters
“Good, I want some of those rolls of chain-link fencing leaning against the wrecked outhouse. Two of them.”
“What the hell for?”
“My plan, man!” he said with a wave of his hands. “Here’s what I want to do.” He carefully laid out how they could get the wagon to the top of the stairs in one piece and not have it take a dangerously long time.
“Once Jokester starts cranking the cans, we aren’t going to have a lot of time,” Dylan said with concern.
“Jokester, you need to get the cans as far into the doorway as possible. The clouds just aren’t going to stay in the air like they did in Folkesburg so we need to pop them under cover. The further into the entrance you can get them, the better. If we get swamped by some outside forces, we need to wait until they are close to pop the dust curtains. This wind is going to spread it out too fast and possibly away from whichever direction they decide to jump us.”
Dylan shook his head, “I hate brawling with these damn things,” he held up his lever action rifle, “I just got this dialed back in after busting it in half over the back of a Hunter’s head.”
Caperson patted him on the shoulder, “I keep telling you to get a man’s gun but you insist on playing cowboy. At least your pistol was made in the last hundred years. Maybe you should start carrying a sword too.”
“You remember that the next time I pop a Guard and you’re working on your second mag to get the damn thing to stop. Maybe if you had a real bullet, Travis could put a little of that magic Dust in ‘em for you.”
Most of the military issue hardware they used had standard ball type ammo and experimentation with creating a hollow-point with dust had proved disastrous. One of the rifles was destroyed when the round expanded in the barrel while the other rounds tested were so inaccurate they couldn’t hit anything past three-hundred feet.
Caperson laughed as they checked their weapons and prepared for the assault.
“Your silence makes me think you might have a little bullet envy.”
Caperson held up his rifle, “This isn’t an overblown twenty-two, my friend. This is seven-point-six-two by fifty-one. Thirty caliber, thirty rounds in the mag. It’s made by the French. Say what you want about the French but their war record is a little better than most would care to admit. Now after a little work, Travis and I found we could drill a reservoir into the tip of the store bought stuff. These actually carry almost as much dust as your fat-and-burley’s do.”
“Really? When did he do that?”
“We had some time to kill while you were out sightseeing.”
Dylan could only nod, “You test it?”
“Once or twice. Gun didn’t blow up and I could still drive a tack at two hundred meters. A big tack, but a tack none the less.”
“I’ll shut up then.”
“Who has the bullet envy now?” He said as he filled all of the pockets on his camouflaged pants with spare magazines and pulled on his heavy leather jacket.
“That thing is still ugly. I’ll take the smooth lines of my old Marlin over that plastic looking thing.”
Caperson chuckled as he double checked his dust grenades and nodded to Dylan, “Good to go?”
“Let’s do this. Travis, your show now. Make us look good.”
Travis coaxed the two horses pulling the wagon down the long slope. They were still more than a quarter of a mile away from the entrance of the hive and aside from the two Hunters standing in the entrance there was no movement. The winds were moving at a steadily increasing rate but it helped to push their scent east of the hive entrance, away from the Hunters. It would also push any Dust clouds away from the wagon.
As they exited the off-ramp and turned toward the round-about, one of the Hunters finally noticed the movement. Caperson held up his arm with a closed fist.
From the bluff behind him there was a small puff of smoke. The crack as the bullet passed over their heads was barely audible over the racing wind. The Hunter to the left of the entrance fell to the ground as if the power had been turned off. The second Hunter began to scream a warning when the bullet entered just under its left eye. It joined the first one on the ground, motionless. Their corpses slowly dissolving into a blue, bubbly mess.
Dylan broke off from the wagon and guided Buck over to the large rolls of chain-link fencing. He attached a climbing carabineer to both rolls and wrapped the other end of the rope around the saddle horn several times. With a click of his tongue and a nudge with his feet, he coaxed Buck back to the wagon, the rolls of chain-link fencing gouging small furrows in the mud as they went.
“Where do you want these, Travis?”
“Top of the stairs there,” he said as he pointed, “unroll both of them, one on top of the other, all the way to the bottom. Like carpets.”
Dylan looked up at the stack towering over their head. As he did so, the first raindrop landed on his face. To the west he could see the squall line moving through the small town. The dark line of pouring rain was moving directly at them.
“Pick it up!” Dylan yelled as he pointed to the wall of water bearing down on them. “We have five minutes tops before that squall line starts pounding us!”
Caperson unhitched the wagon from the horses, leaving them attached to the tree that allowed them to pull the cart. He led the horse in front at a brisk walk about thirty feet away and held them. He kept a continual watch for any returning patrols while trying to keep the horses calm and quiet in the growing storm.
Dylan dismounted and kicked the first roll down the stairs. He winced as the steel links rattled loudly as they bounced down the stairs.
Travis grabbed the other roll and the two of them man-handled it into place. With a solid push, the roll bounced down the stairs as it followed the same path as the first. From somewhere inside the entrance there came a long, single cry from a Hunter that was quickly joined by countless others.
“I think they’re on to us!” Travis yelled as he ran down their newly created heavy mesh ramp.
Caperson made several hand motions back toward Jokester and received a confirming wave back.
“Just say when and Jokester will start the rain!”
Travis attached a climbing carabineer to the hitching point on the wagon then attached a heavy pulley to the clip. At the top of the stairs there was a pyramid shaped monument. It had four eyelets in the base from when it was lowered by crane into place. He attached the pulley and carabineer to the steel ring and sprinted back to the wagon.
Holding up one end of the steel cable he shouted above the wind, “Run this through the first pulley roller at the top and pull everything through. Toss the cable back down to me.”
Dylan dragged the cable back up the ramp, through the first roller in the two-roller pulley. He quickly looped the slack together and tossed it down to Travis at the bottom of their improvised ramp.
Travis ran the cable through the wagon pulley a second time and tossed the remainder back up to the top of the ramp, “One more time through the pulley then it goes over to Caperson.”
Dylan ran the cable through the second roller and tied a loop as he ran over to where Caperson was holding the horse team. Travis aimed his combat shotgun into the hive entrance.
“It’s done, get them moving,” Dylan yelled to Caperson as he stepped back from the horse team.
Caperson pulled on the lead horse and the other three followed. The cable pulled taught and the wagon began moving up the improvised ramp. As the rear wheels left the even pavement, the horses began to struggle.
“Come on! Pull!” Caperson screamed as he tried to coax the team on.
The wheels would slowly roll up the stairs with a rough thump every time they crossed over the lip of a stair. The chain-link bent slightly under the weight but held enough to allow the wheels to continue up one more stair.
A shotgun blast from the top of the stairs made everyone jump.
“We have incoming!” Travis yelled as he worked the action on the pump shotgun. A Hunter step
ped into the opening and he let loose with a second blast. A large section of the Hunter’s torso simply vanished, the edges of the wound bubbled and oozed with a marked blue edge.
A chili-sized can sailed over their heads and into the open doorway. They could hear it bounce several times before there was a muffled ‘whump’ from detonation.
Another Hunter launched himself through the doorway, its skin blistering from the exploded Dustbomb. Travis blasted the next beast and quickly tossed several of the blue Dustbombs into the opening.
“That will buy us some time, get those horses moving!” Travis yelled.
The wagon slowly crawled to the top as the horses struggled against the heavy weight. All four were leaning forward and struggling to get solid footing in the muddy sod. Caperson pulled at the center of the T-frame coaxing the horses to pull harder.
“Ten more feet! It’s got to be all the way up here!” Travis yelled down to Caperson. “Dylan, time to start spinning!”
Dylan ran around the back and worked the charge handle into the fitting. Once he slid the lock pin in place, he began to crank the handle back and forth like a massive oar. A low whine began to build at the center of the wagon as the large flywheel began to spin faster. He put his back into the effort as he took small steps sideways to keep up with the slowly climbing wagon, praying quietly that the cable would hold or that he could step out of the way before being crushed under the wooden wheels.
Several more shotgun blasts and the thunder of a Dustbomb were marked by Travis yelling, “More coming! They are getting pissed! Put some muscle into it, gents!”
A blast of flame and heat erupted from the opening as a Sapper detonated a short distance into the tunnel. Travis was blown off his feet and rolled several times down the stairs before coming to a stop with a splash in a mud puddle.
“Damn, think I lost my eyebrows,” he said as he wiped the mud off of his shotgun. He stood up and charged back to the top of the stairs. He fired several more times and received welcoming screams of anger in response.
~3~
More than a dozen miles away, Jen and Niccole rode at the front of a long line of ancient western wagons. The long chain twisted down and around the bend behind them. Several riders rode horses while some walked alongside, their eyes off to the side as they kept watch for any rogue Hunters. Everyone had either a rifle in their hands or one slung over their shoulders.
“That thunderhead doesn’t look too good,” Jen pointed out as she shouted above the growing winds.
“That looks like it’s right on top of Dylan and Chris. I hope they are doing okay. Blue Dust doesn’t much care for the rain.”
“They are both far too stubborn to do anything but win. Besides, they know what we will do to them if they get hurt.”
Jen shifted uncomfortably, “So the two of you used to voluntarily ride these guys all the time?”
“Every chance we got. We would head out in the morning and not get back home until late evening.”
“And you could still feel your butt?”
“You get used to it.”
“How in the world did you get used to it?”
“The pain stage moves into a numbness stage and you forget about it.”
“I hope I enter the numb stage soon.”
They continued on in silence as they watched the growing storm.
~4~
Travis fired again as another Sapper tried to make it through the growing pool of fire in the entrance, “You need to flip that red lever when it’s up to speed, Dylan! It kind of sticks so you might want to kick it!”
“How do I know when it’s up to speed?”
“When you can’t go any faster!”
“Almost there!” he yelled back as he struggled with the lever.
From behind them on the hill there were several loud ‘clangs’ as Jokester fired the T-cannon. Caperson watched the soup cans fly in their gentle arc and land at the feet of several running Hunters. A patrol returning from the north had entered the large field and was turned into messy piles of filth as the Dust worked into them. The cloud was rapidly blown away by the howling wind and rain.
Travis was backing up as he fired several more rounds into the opening of the hive. A thunderous boom filled the courtyard as a Sapper made it through the curtain of fire before detonating near the cart. Splashes of the things bio-napalm covered the front of the wagon, the old wood blackening on contact and bursting into flame.
“Pull it now, Dylan!”
“It needs to go faster!”
“Now or never man, we’re on fire!” he yelled as he pointed to the front of the wagon.
Dylan pulled the red lever and found he couldn’t budge it.
“You have to kick it!” Travis yelled.
Dylan kicked the iron handle several times before it fell forward with a loud clank of steel on steel. Underneath the wagon he could hear a loud whine as the clutch engaged and the blades in the top of the cans stole the energy from the large fly-wheel mounted under the wagon. As the whine underneath the wagon slowed, a higher pitched sound began to replace it as the four cans began to spin the lifting fans.
Caperson screamed, “Come on, ponies! Only ten more feet and you’re done!”
The instant the large, wooden wheels cleared the top of the stairs, the heavy load was halved and the cart surged forward violently. Caperson dove to the ground before the horses could crush him as they galloped forward. The rear wheels of the wagon jumped into the air as the car cleared the final stair and launched forward, smashing into entrance, sending the large, front wheels flying in splinters of sparks, burning wood and smoke. The center link holding the cable shattered releasing the cable. As the horses surged forward free from their burden, the steel rope cracked like a whip as it unwound from the pulleys.
Once out of the wind, the flames began to spread faster. Fire was crawling up the front of the crushed in foot rests and onto the driving platform. Steam vented from the wet wood as it rapidly dried and burst into flames.
Four tornadoes of Dust spun into the air and turned toward the entrance. Screams echoed down the tunnel as the Hunters waiting to get through the fire were ravaged by the blue chemical. Several muffled ‘wumps’ shook the ground as the crowds of Sappers deep below detonated in tight-packed groups. Their thin skin dissolving and letting the bags of chemical fire contained in their bodies mixing in fiery explosions.
Another gust of wind whipped through the park bringing with it thick sheets of rain. As the cans began to get wet, the tornadoes of blue Dust started to subside.
“We get enough in there?” Dylan asked.
“I hope so, there is some seriously pissed off ‘Rupts down in the hole. We need to get away from this wagon though, it’s getting too damn hot and there is a propane tank buried under that bench.”
Several ammunition boxes under the front bench began to pop and bulge as the ammunition inside began to explode from the heat.
“Time to bugger out!” Travis yelled as he pointed to the wagon.
Travis and Dylan sprinted away from the burning wreckage. As more of the wagon burned to ash in the immense heat, the rear portion began to slowly roll back down the improvised ramp. When it finally reached the muddy grass at the bottom the rear wheels collapsed in a spout of ash and sparks.
Caperson guided the horse team toward Jokester while the burning wagon rolled halfway down the ramp before what remained of the front suspension finally collapsed. It continued to pop and burn as the remainder of their spare ammunition ignited in the fire.
Jokester fired several more cans into the opening before he pulled the charging handle off the gun and started to dismantle it.
Small wisps of blue came out of the funnel towering over them. Several more, smaller puffs of blue followed as the heavy thrumming sound in the stack began to dissipate.
“We may not have killed it but I think this one is shut down for a while,” Dylan said as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.
“C
an’t believe we burned up my wagon,” Travis said. “That thing was a work of art.”
Caperson got the last horse out of the wagon tree and began walking toward the road, “Let’s get out of Dodge and meet up with the others.”
Travis and Jokester split the T-cannon in half and began walking the pieces up the road behind Caperson. Dylan climbed up on his horse and stared at the hive for several minutes. If it wasn’t dead, it wasn’t going to be a threat anytime soon. As he watched, several more puffs of blue left the stack and were dissipated by the wind and rain. He smiled as he turned to follow the others up to the highway. A red crayon line on a large paper map just expanded several dozen miles.
~5~
“Keep it running constant now! Drain the battery if you have to,” Charles said as he held the small handle on the ceiling. The second front was passing over them now and the ship rocked heavily in the rising swells. Massive waves more than fifty feet high were breaking over the bow and pounding their small wind breaks into splinters of wood and scrap steel. Large portions of the farms had already been washed away in swirling pools of mud and water. Sheets of rain would roll across the deck as if the clouds themselves were attempting to douse a fire. Little remained of their deck soil and crops aside from the water tower and the irrigation lines crisscrossing the deck and several mud-drifts piled up against the conning tower.
Captain Lewis stared intently at the sweeping line as it moved around the large circular screen. Much of it made little sense to him but to those in the chairs it did.
“Another large swell about one mile out.”
Larger waves showed on the screen and would break over the top of the deck sending tens of thousands of gallons of seawater washing down the deck taking anything not welded down with them.
Ben worked through several screens of data as he parsed the returns. His screen was a mess of clouds and rain squalls on one side of the ship and rocky shoreline and beach on the other. He finally answered back, “I have dirt, three miles out, looks like fifty to a hundred meters of standard beach then bluffs that vary in height. Some of these cliffs are over one hundred feet straight up.”
