Tristan watched the warrior go, then turned to Ness, an odd smile on her face. "Let's assume we wind up doing this. Given any thought to how we're going to get around?"
"I figured we'd use bikes," Ness said.
"You heard what Mauser said. These are farms on a remote island that hardly had any people on it before the Panhandler."
"Okay, make it mountain bikes."
"Are you worried about handling a horse? It's not that hard. I was doing it when I was twelve."
"Wait, you were one of those horse girls?"
She snorted. "Yes. I was. And it was awesome. So you're going to spend the day learning how to ride—and you're going to like it."
Ness hated the idea, but when Tristan was on a mission, you had about as much luck arguing with her as you would trying to convince a tortoise to lend you its shell. Besides, if he wanted to remove the Catalinans from danger, he wasn't going to be able to do it on foot. There was simply too much ground to cover.
Tristan brought him to a park. A man waited there with four horses. Up close, they looked as big as oliphaunts. It took Ness several tries to get into the saddle. To her credit, Tristan kept her laughter to a minimum.
At first, it was awful. The beasts smelled like dung and flesh. Half the time, they did what they wanted rather than obey his command. Even when they did listen to him, they bounced him up and down so much he was afraid his balls were going to become his lungs' new neighbors.
Once he set aside his anxiety, though, he found his horse was easy enough to steer, particularly when it was following Tristan's. As they took their second break of the day, he found he was actually having fun.
Late that morning, one of the local warriors trotted into the park. The aliens had only made two flyovers since dawn. A significantly decreased presence since the day before.
"Well?" Ness said.
"This might be doable after all," Tristan said. "I assume you want to go in tonight?"
"The Swimmers aren't going to let us operate on our schedule. If they make a move before we do, the Catalinans are going to wind up as a science experiment."
"Tonight it is."
They resumed trotting around the park. Once Tristan thought he was ready for it, they went on a ride through the city, hooves clocking against the pavement, and then went offroad, testing themselves up and down hills. Ness kept his soreness to himself, but catching something in his expression, Tristan called a halt while there was still a good three hours of daylight left.
"You'll never win any steeplechases." She had a glimmer in her eye. "But you should be competent enough for our purposes."
He patted his mount's neck. "Let's hope the horses they've got over there are as nice as these ones."
As they headed back to the Seat, Ness caught multiple gamey whiffs of himself. Sprite and Sam were seated at the picnic table gesturing across the oversized map.
"What's up?" Ness said.
Sprite crinkled his nose. "Dude, you smell like a Conan."
"Damn right," Ness said. "And what did you accomplish while I was out leveling up?"
"Revising your course. Check it out. Sam made you a copy of the map—travel-sized."
Sam produced a sheet of paper. The map drawn on it looked perfectly to scale with the one blanketing the table.
"Now that is sweet," Ness said. "If we ever get a D&D game going, I'm nominating you for Dungeon Master."
"Declined," Sam said. "I hate DMing."
By sundown, there had only been another two flyovers of the island, with at least two hours passing between each one. The four of them roughed out a plan: sail halfway to Catalina, hang back until the next time a jet made its rounds, then head full steam for Moonstone Cove, a tiny bay about four miles northwest of Avalon. Sebastian would swim Ness and Tristan ashore, then return to the sub.
He'd then sail back to San Pedro. While he waited there with Sprite and Sam, Ness and Tristan would find a pair of horses, make their ride, and send all the civilians they could find to the far northwest point of Fort Martin. 24 hours after the initial dropoff, everyone would rendezvous at the fort.
Anyone who'd made it there would be given a lift to San Diego. Everyone else would be on their own.
They sent for Mauser, who listened to the plan with a nod of approval. At the end, he clapped his hands. "Before you depart on this little venture, I suppose I ought to draw you up a writ."
Ness crinkled his brow. "A writ?"
"A piece of paper, bearing my orders and signature—"
"I know what a writ is. I used to play Warcraft. Why do we need one?"
"Because the island of Catalina has been contested for several years now," Mauser said. "As with all people who've had to put up with heaps of shit from invaders, the rural folks might not be that keen to listen to yet another stranger parading in and telling them what to do."
"They're not going to shoot at us or anything, are they?"
Mauser glanced up from his paper, which he'd started to write on. "Let's just say that it would be wise to announce your presence, approach slowly, and for God's sake, keep your hands off their livestock."
He penned a note in the fanciest calligraphy Ness had seen since his gaming days and concluded with a signature that would have made John Hancock jealous. Ness tucked the paper into his jacket. They said their goodbyes and headed down to the pier berthing the sub.
On the way to the island, Ness managed to grab some sleep. He woke as the sub stopped ten miles from Catalina. Twenty minutes later, a jet whined its way over the island's mountains, making three passes before curling back toward the mothership haunting Santa Monica Bay. As soon as it was gone, the sub charged forward.
Ness and Tristan hauled their packs up to the ramp. Within fifteen minutes, the sub stopped again. Barefoot, the two of them ascended to the cold, windy topdeck. A hundred yards away, waves sloshed against the shores. Palm trees overlooked four dark buildings. Otherwise, the area was empty.
Sebastian scuttled up behind them, gesturing. "ARE YOU PREPARED"
"Let's get this over with," Ness signed.
Sebastian wrapped Ness and Tristan up in his limbs and lowered himself down the side of the sub. He eased into the water. As Ness' legs entered the cold sea, he gasped. Sebastian's tentacles spun like propellers, driving them toward shore. Ness held his pack above his head, doing his best to keep it from getting soaked by the spray.
The water shallowed. Sebastian found his footing, slogging onto dry ground. Ness and Tristan grabbed towels from their packs, shivering as they dried themselves.
"BE SAFE," Sebastian signed. "IF YOU'RE HURT I WILL BE SAD"
"We'll be fine," Ness gestured. "You just make sure you're at Fort Martin tomorrow."
Sebastian bowed his tentacles and reentered the surf.
Tristan tossed aside her damp towel. "The creek should be just to the north. We can follow it straight to Stein Ranch."
They pulled on dry shoes and headed north along the shore. The thin ribbon of sand quit within a hundred feet, replaced by rough coast. The air smelled like the kelp jumbled over the rocks. At the end of a second, larger beach, a stream carved a channel through the sand. They turned inland, following the creek through the shrubs and short trees.
Ahead, a wooden fence spanned the stream. They climbed over it. Horses snorted from the darkness, clouds of steam drifting from their nostrils. A simple wooden building sat in the middle of a piebald pasture.
"How do we do this?" Ness said. "Just go knock on the door?"
"Unless you've got a better idea."
"I suppose firing a rifle into the air would be a bad—"
"Hold it right there!" A man's voice boomed from the house. "Hands up high. You so much as twitch, and so will my trigger finger."
Ness thrust his hands above his head. "Don't shoot. I have a writ!"
A silhouette stalked from the side of the building. "A what?"
"A writ. From Mauser. Are you Mr. Stein?"
Moonlight glinted fr
om the barrel of a rifle. The man appeared to be lowering it. "Could be. Who are you?"
Ness and Tristan explained. After a long inspection of Mauser's writ, Stein brought them inside his house, a genuine log cabin that smelled of pine sap and the smoke of the fireplace keeping the room warm. An oil lamp burned on the dining table.
"Make you some tea?" Stein said.
"I'd love some," Tristan said. "Unfortunately, we can't stay. We have a long ride ahead of us."
The man bore a thick mustache, a deep tan, and the smell of horses. "Thought about your offer to leave. I can't take it."
Ness pointed at the shuttered window. "Haven't you seen the jets? You can't stay here."
"If I leave, what happens to my horses? My goats?"
"They eat grass, take plenty of naps, and generally live like horses and goats have been doing for thousands of years?"
Stein combed his fingers through his beard, volumizing it. "They need me. And I need them. Maybe you think I'm stupid for staying, but ever since things fell apart, I've found that animals make much better friends than any human. Writ or no writ, you aren't dragging me out of here."
"I don't think you're stupid," Tristan said. "And we came here to offer you a choice, not to drag you off. Thanks for your time." She stood, smiling. "And for not shooting us."
Ness got up, too. Stein leaned back in his chair. "You're doing good work. A lot of people are going to jump at your offer."
"I hope so," Ness said. "And that we have enough time to visit everyone by our deadline tomorrow. We don't have anything more than our own two feet."
Stein chuckled. "You asking to borrow some horses?"
"Could we?"
"I'd like to say yes. But these horses are my friends. That means you'd have to treat them as such. Don't ride them too hard. Keep them watered. And once you're done, bring them back home."
"We can do that."
"Give me your word?" Stein extended his hand.
Ness crossed the room and shook hands. "You got it."
Stein got the lantern and showed them to a roughhewn stable. He brought out two horses, one brown, one white with brown spots, and saddled them up, murmuring to them as he did so. The few words Ness caught didn't sound like English or any real language. Once the horses were prepped, Stein stepped back and gestured west.
"The Hendersons have a ranch right up the creek," he said. "They were all set to leave before the crabs bombed Avalon. They'll go with you."
"Thanks again," Ness said. "We'll have your buddies back in a jiff."
They followed the creek, letting themselves out through a gate enclosing the pasture. Once they closed the gate behind them, Tristan made a low noise. "Shouldn't have promised to bring the horses back. We might not have time for that."
Ness grunted.
"Then again, it got us two horses," she went on. "So, good job?"
The next house was a quarter mile up the creek. Its yard was fenced, too. They tied the horses to the fence and started to cross. While Ness straddled the upper rail, a rifle pealed through the night.
"Stay right where you are," a woman called. "What do you think you're doing on my land?"
They explained hurriedly. The woman listened with visible relief. "This sub of yours. You say it'll be at the fort in one day? As in 24 hours?"
"That's correct," Tristan said.
"We have three children. Even if we use the wagon, we might not make it there in time."
Ness wiped his nose, which was running from the cold. "If you're not there in time, we might be able to hold off a few more hours. But we have to clear out before that morning."
"I understand. I appreciate what you're doing here." The woman tugged up the collar of her flannel. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get three children ready to roll."
They headed back for their horses.
"Word to the wise," Mrs. Henderson hollered after them. "You want to come up on a Catalinan's house in the middle of the night without getting your hat shot off? Better know the whistle."
She demonstrated, whistling three notes: low, high, then medium.
Ness repeated them. "Like that?"
"You got it!"
He crossed the fence and mounted up. After a brief consultation of the map, they were on their way.
"Stein might have thought to inform us about the whistling." Ness glanced over his shoulder. Lights flickered behind the Hendersons' shutters. "You think Paul Revere had this many guns pulled on him?"
"If he had, I doubt we would have won the revolution."
They cut south along the creek, whistling outside every homestead they came to. Of the next five, one was empty, one elected to stay, two started immediate preparations to get on the road, and the last, a single woman, volunteered to go spread the word to the families to the southeast.
That was a relief. Between explaining who they were and what was happening, the mission was taking longer than expected. It was already getting on toward midnight and they'd only covered a fraction of the ground they needed to canvass.
They swung across the south coast—the people were asleep now, forcing Ness to knock on their doors in a way he hoped was non-threatening—then continued into the hills. They couldn't find a few houses, and had to backtrack more than once to find trails, but despite the unfamiliarity of the land, the map was solid enough to keep them on course.
Once every hour or two, they stopped to stretch their legs and give the horses a break. In the deep part of the night, a jet screamed across the sky. The horses tossed their heads. Ness and Tristan dismounted and jogged into the brush.
"What the heck are they doing?" Ness said. "They keep flying around, but I don't see any more bombs going off. What's the point?"
Tristan tipped back her head, the curve of her neck outlined by the faint moonlight. "There are no targets out here nearly as fat as Avalon. Maybe they're conserving munitions. Making sure the resistance isn't up to anything."
The sound dwindled. They got back on their way. Clouds blew in from the sea. Dawn arrived with great resentment, graying the clouds. Ness' head ached. So did his thighs and back. And his crotch. He tried not to think about how much more riding they had ahead of them.
Around eight that morning, at a farm halfway up the hills with a sweeping southern view of the Pacific, a man named George took one look at their horses and shook his head.
"These girls are about toast," he said. "Take two of mine. They aren't much for riding, but at least they'll give these ones a rest."
They made a quick revision of their route to allow them to return to George's later that day for Stein's horses. As they worked on this, George arrived with eggs, toast, and black pudding. Halfway through the meal, Tristan informed Ness that "black" was a polite way of saying "blood," but he was too starved to care.
After, they mounted up and got back on the trail. Ness rubbed his eyes. "How come the horses get a rest and we don't?"
"Because they're the ones doing all the walking. Think of it this way. Twelve hours from now, we'll be done. That isn't so long, is it?"
"About as long as the three Lord of the Rings movies back to back. Dang, do I miss those."
"And once we're done, we can sleep."
George was right. Their replacement horses were balky, particularly when the trails grew steep. They finished up the middle section of the island that afternoon and returned to his farm to swap them for Stein's mounts, which were lively after their break from duty. The final leg of the island was shaped like a spearpoint, connected to the main mass by a low saddle of land less than half a mile across. Waves beat to either side. A few people dotted the road, some on foot and others in wagons, making for Fort Martin.
Seeing them revived Ness' flagging spirits. At sunset, they came to a shack overlooking the western shore. There, they found a young couple, Emily and Roger.
Ness heard her name three times before it registered. "Hold up there. You're Emily? Emily Calhoun? I saw your mom yesterday!"
; Emily's mouth dropped. "But she was in Avalon. The bombs, I thought…"
He shook his head, grinning. "We got her out in the nick of time. Dropped her off in Better San Diego. Head up to Fort Martin and we'll take you there, too."
Emily dropped the bag she'd been packing and hugged him hard. "I thought everything was lost. I can't tell you what this means to me."
They returned to their duty. Night fell. Ness could hardly think straight. After departing a one-man farmhouse on the north shore, Tristan took a long look at the map.
"I can't believe it," she said. "I think we're done. We can sleep!"
Ness grimaced. "Not quite."
"Fort Martin is right over the next ridge. We can be there in ten minutes."
"You should do that. Meet up with the refugees. But I gotta take these horses back to Stein."
She laughed, faltering as she came to understand it wasn't a joke. "That will take all night."
"God, I hope not."
"Sebastian will have the sub here before midnight."
"He won't leave without me."
She nudged her horse next to his, teeth clenching. "If the aliens send a jet through here, he may not have a choice."
He beckoned to the west. "Go on to the fort. Once the sub shows up, get everyone loaded up. I'll be back as fast as I can."
"Why are you doing this? We've saved dozens of lives today. They're just horses."
"I made a promise. I'm not doing this for the horses. I'm doing this for myself. So I know I can do the right thing even when it's the tough thing. I'm already scared, Tristan. Don't make this any harder on me."
She burst into the kind of laughter where it was either that or start crying. "That's the only thing you could have said to stop me from knocking you out and dragging you to the fort. Get back here as fast as you can. Even if you have to steal another horse to do it."
Tristan swung down from her mount. They hugged each other tight. She smelled like a stable, but he was sure he did, too. He climbed back into the saddle, suppressing a groan, and took the reins of her horse. He dug his heels into his horse's flanks, clinging to the saddle as the animal lurched forward.
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