“I think so,” she said. “Not in the head: I couldn’t be sure about that. He kept moving around, but I think I might have got him high in the leg or the side of his hip.” She jumped as two more windows shattered. “This noise is giving me a headache,” she said without rancor. “I wish they’d all just shut up.”
The fight continued and Evan’s leg stiffened where the bullet had scraped it. Thea moved back and forth between her two guns, firing the 10-gauge and returning again to the Savage. She seemed impervious to fright or fatigue, but Evan had seen this calm efficiency before, and was not fooled by it. They would have to decide this fight soon, one way or the other. Neither he nor Thea could keep up this pace for long.
Once more there was a heavy thud as the Pirates’ .375 ripped into the walls, leaving a swath of ruin behind it. “Where’d they get a big-game gun now?” Evan asked aloud as the sound came again. He’d only used that heavy new Winchester once in his life, and he knew what it could do.
Judging from the sounds below they knew they had hit a few of the Pirates, but not enough of them, and not critically. They had not stopped the attack, they had not sent Mackley and his men back toward the leaden water of Lake Tahoe. When little more than an hour had gone by, Thea turned to Evan. “I’m almost out of shells for the Savage,” she said as she moved back to her post at the window.
Evan nodded as he fired and had the satisfaction of hearing a shout that told him his bullet had gone home. By his estimation they were now up against five or six armed, whole men. That was too many.
There was a spurt of light on the other side of the room, and Thea, holding her crossbow, fired the flaming wad of cloth toward the center of the Pirates’ assault group. There were more shouts then, followed by a muffled explosion and in a moment a small, black cloud rolled upward.
“You got something,” Evan said proudly, hoping that it was ammunition. He knew that they had to balance the odds somehow. “See if you can drive them out into the lake. Let the water spiders take their minds off us.” There was a feral light in his face now, almost a pleasure that fed his determination.
Thea muttered her response, then sent a ball of fire toward three men who stood together near the edge of the lake. One of them was wounded, the other two supported him. They could not move fast enough to escape the flaming quarrel, and fell screaming as their clothes burned and skin charred.
There was another explosion, and this one rocked its way up one pylon, jiggling the lookout station like a puppet on a stick. Both Thea and Evan were thrown to the floor, and when the motion stopped, the whole station canted at a strange angle.
“They’ve blown up one of the legs,” Evan said as he surveyed the damage, making his way over the tilted floor with care. “They’re going to try to bring us down leg by leg.”
“What do we do?” she asked, watching him as she hung onto the window and fired once more, letting the shot go wide.
“We have to discourage them before they try it again.” Saying this, he wrenched open the door and climbed out on the deck at the side of the station. From here he could see the men below him working on their next charge. Taking careful aim with the powerful Winchester, he wounded two of the men before they could run from his fire; once away from the pylon, they began shooting back.
“I’ve slowed them down a little,” Evan announced as he lumbered back into the room, the crazy angle of the floor making it hard for him to walk.
“Slowed for how long?”
“Not very,” he admitted. “But there’s two fewer of them now, and it’ll take them a lot longer to get the next charge ready.”
“What about this?” She held up her crossbow and mimed the release of the trigger. “It hasn’t got much range, but I think they’d pay attention to it. And it’s quiet.”
“They might not expect it now. It’s taking an awful risk,” he conceded, stroking his beard. “They’re working with high explosives down there. Anything landing on a charge would mean hell to pay.” He checked his dwindling supply of ammunition and went on, a harsh smile on his face. “Whatever we do, we have to do it fast. They’re not going to wait forever to blow us up. They’ve got too much at stake now.”
Her eyes resolutely fixed on some point far away, she said, “We can start a fire, can’t we? Near the pylons, but not that near? Half a dozen of these things should do it, don’t you think?” She held out the wadded strips of blanket, wet with their marinade of kerosene. Her eyes pleaded with Evan, begging him to tell her that they still had a chance. Across the wreckage of the lookout station, she saw his eyes fill with despair. Turning, she readied the wads, saying quietly, “This is their world, Evan, not ours, and they make the rules in it. So we’ll play by them, too, no matter what.”
“If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll help you.”
The first two flaming quarrels did not drive the men away, but the third was close enough to get results. The scrub began to burn in a steady, almost languid way.
“That’s got it going,” Evan said as he saw the fire grab hold of the scrub, showing its progress by blackening leaves and scorching grass. “They’re going to be busy with that for a while.” He looked around from his position, his eyes hidden in blackened wrinkles. “Where’s Mackley? It’s him we want.”
“I think he’s with the wounded, in the bend of the lake, there.” He pointed to a pair of retreating Pirates who were making for the other end of the lake. Although Cathedral Lake was almost circular, there was one scoop in its shore, away from Cathedral Rock, that was rather steep, where the curve was the greatest, giving it a teardrop shape. “It wouldn’t take a lot to drive them into the water, if the aim was good,” she said as if in a trance. She put down her crossbow and picked up the Savage. “I’ve got just eleven shells left and then I’m out.”
Evan studied his Winchester. “All right,” he said as the smoke from the burning brush reached them. “We can put all we’ve got left into the wounded and the bank above them. As fast as we can. Hit anyone you’re able to. But make sure you drive them back into the water.”
“And then, if it doesn’t work?”
“It has to work,” he said.
At his count they began to fire, watching the wounded scramble, if they could scramble, and driving those that could be driven down the slope inexorably, toward the lake. Shouts for help went up after the first man hit the water and was attacked by the voracious arachnids, their venom doing swift, agony-filled work. The few men left unwounded rushed to the others, trying to break their falls. When it was over, there were three men left standing.
These men turned on the lookout station with fury, using the .375 to gouge holes in the floor and walls. The barrage was long and thorough, and before it was over, Thea’s right arm hung useless at her side, blood flowing from a deep flesh wound in her shoulder. Evan dropped what he was doing to wrap a pressure bandage around it, frowning as the blood quickly soaked through the wrappings. She turned a pale, shocky face to him, attempting to allay his fright. “I wish I were left-handed, like you,” she whispered unsteadily.
“Never mind,” Evan said, the vertical grooves between his brows drawn darkly now. He picked up his shotgun and began to fire again.
Some smoke from the burning scrub came roiling through the station, making it hard to breathe and hiding the ground and the men there. The bullets continued to pepper them, but randomly. Shortly there was a lull, and then a voice called up from beneath them.
“Montague! Montague, do you hear me? It’s Mackley.” From the way he tore his hoarse voice, Thea guessed that she had hit him earlier, because he was clearly badly hurt. “You’re still too fucking good, Montague! You killed a lot of my men,” he went on, with emphasis on the my. “You can’t last up there much longer. You need food and water, Montague. Tonight, tomorrow, a couple of days, we’re coming back to finish the job. There’s more of us at Tahoe, Montague. You’re a dead man.”
“You come back, Mackley, and we’ll give you more of the same.”
He paused. “If I’m a dead man, Mackley, so are you,” he said softly, in terrible earnest.
“You’ve got to come out of there sometime, Montague!” The shouts were rasping his throat now, and every word cracked.
“Don’t hold your breath!” The answer was nothing but bravado, and both men knew it. But it saved Mackley’s face in retreat, which Evan knew this was, and it gave Evan a few crucial moments to think.
“What is it?” Thea asked when there had been silence for a few minutes. Only the crackling of the burning scrub came up to them now, and her ears were roaring from the silence. “Are they leaving?”
“For the time being. Mackley’s hurt and he has to reorganize, go back for replacement troops.” He put down his shotgun and went to Thea, half-carrying her across the slanted floor to the sofa that was their bed. Gently he set her down, leaning over her anxiously, his face now gray with exhaustion. “Thea? How badly are you hurt? Really?”
“Pretty badly,” she admitted. “There’s no broken bones, but something is pretty messed up. I’m not much good for anything.” She made an effort to focus on his face. “Why?”
“We’re leaving here tonight. As soon as those vermin are gone, we’re packing up and getting out of here. I’m going to rig a bed for you in the sledge.
Fright came back into her eyes. “We can’t go to the lake, Evan.”
“No. We aren’t going to the lake. We’re going around over the crest again. With the fire to confuse them, they won’t be able to follow us, not for some time. But it’s going to be very rough, Thea. You’ll have to take a lot of hurting. We can stay here if you’re too badly wounded to move, but”—he turned away before finishing—”if we stay here, we haven’t got a chance in the world.”
She knew this was the truth, and hearing it gave her strength again. “If you pack this thing with gauze,” she said, gesturing to the bandages that enveloped her shoulder, “really pack it tight, I think I can walk away. Not very far, but away from here.”
“All right. I’ll pack the wound. We should be out of here in a couple of hours.”
When he finally lowered the sledge, Thea, and himself to the ground with the station’s bo’sun’s chair, his whole body felt watery with fatigue. The ground was still charred and smoking, and the bodies of the Pirates who had not escaped lay where they had fallen, blackened and shrunken. The night was very dark, as if the sky were wrapped in a vast muffler. On the lake there floated two shapes covered now with a mass of sticky filaments as the water spiders marched over their webs, mandibles clicking.
It would have been so easy to stop there, to sleep, trusting to the sun to wake them before the Pirates came back. Evan took a moment to ready himself for the hike ahead: he had rigged a kind of harness made with the leather straps to draw the sledge, but found it was harder to do than he had thought it would be. With a little help from Thea the harness was adjusted, the runners balanced, and the sled moved off into the night, Evan bending under the weight, Thea walking unsteadily beside it.
11
Morning was near when Thea realized that they were being followed. She had stayed on her feet, moving mechanically, making no sound to betray the intensity of the pain that shot through her with every shifting of her weight. Occasionally she would look back, as an automatic precaution. Concentration blended with hurt on her face, and this expression deepened as they went. Finally she said, “There’s something back there.”
“Mackley’s men?” Evan asked, panting. The wound in his leg had opened an hour before and was bleeding with a slow persistence that sapped his energy and reduced his speed to almost nothing.
“No: dogs.” As if to confirm this there rose a low wail, a soft cry from far down the slope, rising as the mountains rose.
“Shit!” Evan stopped, sagging against the straps. They had passed the fire line over an hour ago, and pulling the sledge through the tangled scrub was more than he had bargained for.
“There aren’t any trees,” she said, looking around. “And I don’t think we can outrun the pack. Not out here, with the sledge.”
“Not bloody likely,” he agreed, puffing his hands into the straps to ease their cutting pressure on his shoulders. “Where’s the fire? Still behind us?”
“To the north. Still burning some. Not a lot. The smoke’s been thinning out.” She frowned. “I guess the stuff they sprayed the forest with keeps it from burning.”
The sound of the dogs was louder now, and there was an urgency in their cry.
“Evan…I—”
“What?” he snapped. His leg hurt, his head hurt, and his throat felt scoured. He knew defeat was near, and the taste of it was gall-bitter in his mouth.
“Could we turn the sledge over? We can fit under it, can’t we? And we can pile the supplies around the outside…They couldn’t get us then, could they? There wouldn’t be any way…”
He was about to give her a sharp answer, but some of her logic penetrated his resentment. “You’re right,” he allowed. “It would protect us. It will work.” He struggled out of the harness and began to unload the breakables, setting them in a heap around the sledge. At last he had them all prepared, and though the sounds of the dogs were now much nearer, he was ready to turn the sledge over on its side and climb under it. “Sit down,” he told Thea, pointing to the center of the bundles, and when she did, he centered the sledge above her.“We’re going to have a tight fit,” he remarked as he squatted down next to her and edged his way under the sledge.
“But we’ll be safe,” she said, knowing that was all that mattered.
So while the dogs snapped and howled outside, pushing their noses against the slatted sides, Thea and Evan lay wrapped tightly together, asleep.
When they awoke the dogs were gone and it was raining. The ground under them had turned mushy and it was late in the morning. In the cramped space, Thea tried to stretch and found that she couldn’t. Her shoulder hurt, but in a distant, selfless way, as if it belonged to someone else. She had difficulty thinking and her vision wobbled.
“Is that rain?” Evan asked, trying to clear his head. His body throbbed like a drum and his regenerated arm was stiff, more like an oar than an arm. When he tried to move his leg he felt it protest, and there was an acidic burn where the bullet had left its mark.
“It’s rain,” she confirmed, twisting unsuccessfully, and stifling a cry as she rolled onto her right arm. “I must have needed the rest more than I thought. It’s such a relief…”A gasp ended this as pain flared again.
He reached across her inexpertly, his hand brushing her face as he stretched to touch the edge of the sledge. “God, Thea. You’re burning up.”
“You don’t have to look like that; as if you’ve been eating sour fruit,” she said testily. “I’m fine. It’s just that I’m a little sore.”
“You have a fever, Thea, and that shoulder of yours needs looking at. I should change your bandages.” He started to lift the sledge but she stopped him.
“Are you sure the dogs are gone?” She was frightened now, and could not control the trembling that seized her.
“They’re gone,” he promised and raised the sledge.
The rain hit them then, coming down in sooty drops from a tattered gray sky. The wind blew along the ridge, ruffling the scrub and chilling the air. Evan reached for the tarpaulin, working with frightful slowness to rig a lean-to with the sledge.
“What are you doing?” Thea asked, trying to crawl out from under the tarpaulin.
“Setting us up a camp,” he answered, wrestling with a knot in the cord at one corner of the tarp.
“But why? I can go on. Give me some credit, Evan. You don’t have to do this. We can go miles by sundown.”
Rather than argue with her, or let her see his worry, he said, “Maybe you can, but I can’t. That sledge is heavy and my leg is sore.” There, he had the tarpaulin tied down. The next thing to do was to weight the other side. He looked about for usable rocks and found a few medium-sized ones which he
lugged to the tarpaulin for its corner weights. Then he moved back to take stock of his work. It wasn’t much, he knew, but it was the best he could manage. Carefully he hunkered down and crawled back inside.
“Is it raining hard?” Thea watched him with overly bright eyes, eyes that shone with the glaze of fever. Her face was flushed and dry.
“Not very. It doesn’t seem like much of a storm,” he said, touching her face again. “Let me have a look at your shoulder. You’ll want the dressings changed, at least,” he recommended gently, pushing her back into the mound of their goods.
“Oh, I think it’s all right. You don’t have to bother,” she said dreamily.
“Humor me, Thea.” He was less gentle now, and the steely cast had come back into his eyes. She sighed and resigned herself to his ministrations. She made no protest when he began to unwrap her bandages, but as he lifted the packing away, her face grew drawn, her breath hissed through her clenched teeth, and her brittle assurances vanished.
Evan clenched his teeth when he saw her wound. The flesh around it was inflamed and the exposed tissues were a deep angry purple. The tissues smelled of decayed meat. Frantically Evan ran through the extent of their first aid supplies, then made a rapid search for the kit, finding it at last under a box of food. One of the foil-sealed packets informed him, Lacerations: for topical applications to a clean wound. In case of infection or fever, consult a physician. Discard after July, 2016. Evan held back a bitter laugh and tore the packet open, sprinkling the powder over the wound and into it. He hoped that the medicine was still potent enough to stop the spreading infection. Then, carefully, he repacked the wound with the last of their fresh gauze and bandaged it again.
“Now let me see your leg,” Thea demanded when he was through. “I should let you check me?’ Evan sensed that behind her banter there was fear, and with it, a realization that her wound was dangerous. He stripped off his pants and let her see the long red furrow down his thigh.
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