As soon as he crossed the hill to the east, he slowed the animals to a trot, then a walk to better handle the crazy switchbacks of the coastal road. He'd already planned the route in his mind. Following the trails, it'd be about fifteen miles each way. The map made it look like he could shave that down with some overland shortcuts, but he couldn't risk getting lost. Three hours to get there, then three hours to bike to the fort along the main road—that would have him on the sub well before sunup.
Whenever the trail straightened out, he pushed the horses to a trot. It was still cloudy. Threatening rain. No way to keep an eye on the position of the moon or the stars to tell the passage of time. The hills descended to the flat stretch connecting the two lobes of the island. He galloped across it. With his ass feeling like it was about to bust into a billion pieces, he slowed again.
The hills waited ahead, high and black. To conserve the animals' strength for the climb, he slowed further, swaying in the saddle. How long had he been awake? More than 24 hours. With all the ferrying people around back and forth and the preparations they'd had to make before this trip, he hadn't had an uninterrupted night's sleep since the mothership had appeared.
The horse rocked him back and forth. Its body was as warm as a big smelly blanket. He slept.
* * *
His eyes fell open. His body felt tingly, his mind as thick as cold syrup. He was..? He was okay. Had some sleep. Just for a minute. The horse knew the way. His chin drooped to his chest again.
His head jerked up, his heart racking itself against his ribs. The landscape had changed. So had the clouds. He was somewhere in the hills. He had no idea what time it was. And the other horse was gone.
Ness blinked back hot tears. How long had he been out? How could he have let himself fall asleep? For that matter, why had he cared about getting the horses back to a guy who was already too busy taking care of the ones from his neighbors' now-empty farms? He was so stupid. So stupid. He was going to miss the sub. No one knew where he was or that he was still alive. He'd be trapped on Catalina. If anything happened to the sub, he might never see any of them again.
His heart beat faster and faster. He couldn't seem to catch his breath. He climbed out of the saddle and sat. There was nothing left to do.
He reached up and pinched his cheek until fresh tears sprung from his eyes. All that despair and anxiety shit, that was the old Ness. A revenant who tried to overtake him whenever a situation got overwhelming.
Bit by bit, though, he'd learned that wasn't who he had to be.
Still seated, he broke down what he had to do step by step. First, find the other horse. Second, figure out where he was. Third, deliver the animals to Stein. Fourth, get to Fort Martin ASAP. And if the sub had left? He'd find somewhere to hole up until it returned—and if it didn't, he'd find a boat and sail to San Pedro by himself.
Ness jumped to his feet and swung into the saddle. He was in a valley between two hills. The grass was blowing around in the wind, but he let his eyes hunt for any movement that didn't fit the breeze. There: a dark shape against the sward. He nudged his horse forward. As he approached and took the second horse's reins, the wayward beast didn't so much as look up.
First step down. He couldn't see any trails and had no idea which direction was which, but he knew one way to orient himself. He led the horses up the nearest hill. Cresting it, the sea fanned out below him. To his right and left, the coast curved in a ragged semicircle. He was roughly two miles southeast of the bottleneck connecting the two sections of the island.
He patted his horse's neck. "Good job. You only took us a little off course. But would it have killed you to have wandered east instead?"
He struck eastward. As soon as he found a trail, he pushed the horses as hard as he dared. Anxieties buzzed around his head like wasps—how late it was, how dumb he'd been, how the horses could break their leg on a loose rock at any moment—but he was too busy getting stuff done to let any of his worries take hold.
As he neared Moonstone Cove, he slowed, taking the horses to the creek and following it upstream to Stein's. He whistled steadily as he led the animals through the gate.
A door creaked open. "Who's there?"
"It's Ness," he said, striding through the pasture. "And I brought back your fillies."
"Those aren't fillies." Stein jogged up to him, laughing in disbelief. "Didn't think I'd see you again."
"I'm a man of my word. These days, anyway. You got a bike? I've got a ship to catch."
"I don't know. I've only got the one."
"Man, I brought your horses back!"
Stein put his hands on his hips. "You think you deserve a reward for doing what you said you'd do?"
"I don't know a single person on this island or in Los Angeles," Ness said. "But I'm helping them out anyway. Because it's the right thing to do. You want me to be able to keep helping out? Then give me your goddamn bike."
Stein rocked backward like Ness had socked him in the jaw. "You got me. It's all yours."
He fetched it from the shed. Ness nodded his thanks and walked the bike to the trail, then hopped on and pedaled as hard as the moonlight and his aching legs allowed.
An hour and a half later, he whipped across the flat stretch between the two portions of the island. Two miles after that, with two more to go, the eastern clouds lightened from black to charcoal gray. He pedaled harder. As he topped the ridge less than a mile from the fort, the cry of a jet engine squalled across the sky.
His heart sank. He followed the trail to the fort, a rough-mortared wall overlooking the north shore. He dropped the bike and stared out to sea. Nothing but waves. No black hump of the sub anywhere.
He lowered himself to the ground, settled his aching limbs, and sighed.
Beyond the pint-sized beach, the water frothed. Ness stood, groaning, and got out his pistol. An alien drew itself from the water and scuttled onto the sand.
Ness ran forward. "Sebastian!"
"TRISTAN SAID YOU WENT TO RETURN A GREAT BEAST," Sebastian signed.
"I made its owner a promise," Ness gestured back. "How are they going to trust us if we don't keep our word?"
"DO NOT HAVE SHAME. TO DO AS YOU PROMISE IS TO GROW TRUST—AND TRUST IS WHAT FEEDS PEACE"
"Please tell me the sub is here."
Sebastian wagged his head. "DID YOU THINK I WOULD LEAVE WITHOUT YOU"
"No, but I thought Tristan might seize the controls from you."
Sebastian swam him out to the ship. They climbed inside. As soon as Ness had showered, he collapsed into his bunk.
By the time he got up for good, he discovered they'd already delivered the last batch of refugees to San Diego, taken on food and ammunition bound for San Pedro, delivered those, brought another group of evacuees from San Pedro to San Diego, and were currently on their way back to San Pedro. Ness was stiff and sore all over.
He took a seat in the galley. Tristan, Sprite, and Sam were all there.
"Tell you what," Ness said. "After the last few days, I'd be happy to take the next month off."
The three others exchanged a wry look.
He planted his face in his hands. "What is it now? Are we supposed to deliver a shipment of ice to the equator? Or a box of sunshine to the North Pole?"
"I wish!" Sprite said. "We'd be way less likely to get blown up at the North Pole."
Tristan shoved herself into the booth beside Ness, squeezing his leg. "While we were out, the Swimmers have been busy, too. They've opened up shop at LAX. And it sounds like we're about to hit them back for what they did to Avalon."
8
Raina pedaled down the middle of the streets, shaded by the colossal towers around her, accompanied by seven warriors. They had seen all those who'd remained in Anson's former colonies. It was time to go, but she didn't want to. This land was hers—and it might be the last time she ever saw it.
They emerged from the towers. She came to a stop in the middle of an intersection. She looked at the hills. The skyscrapers. Th
e sweep of the buildings from the mountains to the sea. And she saw why the invaders wanted it so badly.
"You can't have it," she whispered to the hazy ship hovering over the bay. "If I have to fight you for a thousand years, you can't have it."
* * *
They returned to San Pedro bearing a horse-drawn wagon laden with the finest spoils from Anson's hoard in the Heart. As she braked to a halt outside the Home Depot, Mauser strode from inside, wearing his fanciest leather jacket against the chill of the night.
"You're back," he said. "Care to lead us to victory now?"
"Have the aliens moved against us?"
"You might say that. They bombed Avalon the same day you left. More recently, they've established a base camp at LAX. Complete with those creepy rubbery buildings of theirs. Looks like they're settling in for the long haul."
They moved to the fenced-in garden center to discuss all that had happened while she had been out. She was gratified to hear that, following her visits, scores of outlying citizens had come to San Pedro. Most had gone on their way to Better San Diego.
"Lowell," she said. "Did he make it here? Does he live?"
"He's recovering rather nicely. He told me about the run-in at Glendale. Sounds as if the Swimmers intend to clear out the city for the new arrivals."
"I'm glad you agree."
"I see you brought some toys home with you. Is it too much to hope that you also brought a plan?"
Lightly, she gripped the hilt of her long sword. "How many of the creatures are at LAX?"
"Last I heard, north of a hundred. And they're bringing in more by the day."
A deep green avocado hung in the boughs above her, out of arm's reach. She drew her sword and sliced it down, catching it on the fly. She got out a knife and began to peel it.
She took a bite. "We should show them what happens when they set foot on human soil."
"You want to attack them at the airport?"
"While at the same time Walt attacks them from the sky."
"So we're just a diversion."
Raina shook her head. "Our assault will be perfectly real. But it will also serve as a distraction while he brings the balloon to their ship."
"Do you think he's likely to succeed? Frankly, I still can't believe it worked the first time. I wouldn't count on him to pull the same stunt twice."
"Even if he fails, we will have slain hundreds of the enemy at the airport. That will be a great victory in its own right. After, we can send the submarine and its warriors up the coast through the northlands. When the survivors there learn what we have accomplished, they'll rally to our banner."
Mauser narrowed his eyes. "Or we could skip the airport battle and just tell everyone that we won it."
"The battle at the airport is necessary to win the one in the sky. If both succeed, that will be the end of it."
"Just sayin'. A more constructive suggestion: if we overrun the airport, and Walt fails, the Swimmers will come bomb LAX to smithereens. We can use the submarine to get us out of there before the smithereening ensues."
"Start drawing up the plans," she said. "And bring Walt to me."
Mauser bowed—somehow, he could even make a bow feel sarcastic—and departed. Raina finished her avocado and dumped the skin and pit in the midden heap at the back of the garden. Walt and Carrie had returned from the airport that afternoon, hours before Raina. They arrived to meet her looking tired but bathed.
"Thank you for your efforts in the field," Raina said. "Over the last five days, we have suffered bombings. Attacks in the streets. Now, they try to claim our land. It is beyond clear that the aliens have returned to finish their original plan."
"What tipped you off?" Walt said. "The star cruiser?"
"When you encounter a cougar in the hills, it may look frightening. But even though it has fangs and claws, that does not mean it wants to fight you. If we treated the arrival of the aliens as proof they would make war, that would only have guaranteed it was so."
Carrie smiled. "She's smart. You should listen to her."
Walt leaned against a waist-high terra cotta pot, oblivious to the mosquito larva that Raina knew must be squirming in the water caught inside it. "I'm just glad we reached this conclusion before they nuked us even deeper into the Stone Age. Ready to put me in the game, coach?"
Raina crinkled her brow. "My people have located three balloons for your inspection. There is fuel, too. And I have brought many explosives from Anson's former keep."
"Sounds like all the makings of a great night."
"Then you still wish to attack the ship?"
"Wish? Hell no. I'd much rather be helping myself to Anson's former bourbon. But they haven't given us much choice, have they?"
"How soon can you be ready to strike?"
"I'd like to take one of them up for a test flight. Get my air legs back under me. But if everything checks out? I'll be ready to dunk those jerks in the sea two nights from now."
"You will have at least three," Raina said.
"How's that?"
"Because I must have time to prepare to fight them at the airport."
Walt gave her a thumbs up. "That's what I'm talking about."
"As a diversion?" Carrie said. "If that stirs up the mothership, they might see us coming in."
Raina drew her hand through the air. "They will be vigilant either way. At least if we attack by land, we can hope to draw their eyes away from the sky."
"How will we coordinate?" Walt said. "Synchronize our watches?"
"Another gift from Anson. Radios. Three nights from now, once my army is in position to assault the airport, I will send you the order to lift off."
Walt pushed off from the orange-red pot and cracked his knuckles. "I hope you've got a good painter here. If I pull this off, I'm going to deserve one hell of a portrait."
He left along with Carrie. Raina assembled her war council: Mauser, whose cunning could have fathered foxes. Mia, a master of subterfuge. Carl, who had taught Raina to fight with blades, and whose thoughts were as precise and fluid as the movements of his deadly art. Wendy, who knew the warriors of San Pedro every bit as well as Raina. And lastly, Lowell, who understood the basin better than anyone, and whose eyes were as hard as rock, allowing him to consider possibilities without being blinded by the yearnings of false hope.
They convened there in the garden, seating themselves on iron chairs around a table of freshly-cleaned glass. Its surface was sheeted by the giant map of the city taken from the DMV.
"The aliens have made their intentions clear," Raina said. "They are here to destroy us. Three days from now, we will attempt to do the same to them. Walt Lawson—he who cracked the first ship—will bring down this one as well. And I will lead our people against the aliens' incursion at LAX. In one night, they will be scoured from the land and the sky."
The others glanced between each other. Carl sniffed. "Sounds like you've got it all worked out. What do you need us for?"
Raina chuckled. As her former mentor, Carl hadn't let her ascent to queenhood alter his behavior toward her. In this way, he continued to teach her long after their knife lessons had ended.
"I know what I wish to do," she said. "You're here to help me achieve it. The Swimmers have a hundred people on the ground. By the time we're ready, they may have twice that. They will be armed with lasers. They have jets on the runway and can call in others to arrive within minutes to loose their bombs upon us. This is what we stand against. How can we win?"
A wave of silence swept across the table. Raina looked to each member of her council. "Mauser? Not even you?"
"Nothing springs to mind," he said.
"Since when has a lack of ideas stopped you from speaking up?"
"In that case, I propose an attack of some kind."
"I'm not asking for a fully-formed plan. I'm asking for an idea that can be shaped into one."
"What's the objective?" Lowell said.
She swiveled to face him. "Provide a screen for
Walt's mission. And kill as many of the crabs as we can."
"But not to take the airport."
"By itself, the grounds mean nothing to me."
Lowell eased himself back in his chair. "Don't try to do too much. Take what they give you and no more. Insist on trying to kill every Swimmer there, or on pressing forward into stiffer resistance than you expected, and you could lose everyone."
"An uncommitted strike," Carl said. "Like a snap punch. Might not knock them out. But you won't place yourself in position to be KO'd, either."
"Good," Raina said. "A snap punch is pulled back as swiftly as it is thrown. We'll use our dragoons. Arrive on bicycles, attack on foot, then withdraw into the night."
Mauser rubbed his stubble. "What about horses? The Sworn have more experience with those."
"Too loud. Walt believes these new aliens have developed machinery to let them hear."
"So we position them a ways from the airport. Here, here, and here." He tapped points around the map. "That way, anyone who's cut off from their bike has an alternate means of escape. And in a pinch, two people can ride each horse."
Raina produced a second map of the airport which one of her scouts had scavenged from the government office on the docks. "The scouts say the Swimmers are gathering here, on the north runways. It's surrounded by nothing but open fields. Cover will be very poor."
"Except in the terminals. We can position snipers there. And a machine gun or two in case the Swimmers try to retreat to it."
"That will help to pin them down and pick them off. But we'll have to get our army much closer to land a killing blow. How do we do so without getting cut down as we close on them?"
"It's times like these I keenly regret not maintaining a few cars," Mauser said. He lifted his index finger. "We could dress everyone in mirrors."
"Mirrors?"
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