Edward Llewellyn

by Prelude to Chaos

  “But Mister Gavin—”

  I eased the door open, slipped into the shadows outside, and rolled into the ditch. Somebody shouted. I pulled myself back to the edge of the road, saw a face in the glow of the flourine torch underneath the truck, and fired at it once. The torch dropped, the jet touched somebody who screamed. I fired twice more at writhing shadows and the screaming stopped. I glimpsed a flicker sliding up the bank toward the bushes. These kids knew how to hunt deer. If I lived, I’d teach them how to hunt men.

  Jehu’s shotgun roared through the slit at the rear of the Brinks. Buckshot bounced off the road and the truck. Somebody yelled from behind it. Then the bandits, or whoever they were, recovered from their shock and began shooting at the place where I had been. I fired from farther along the ditch, dropped a silhouette running across the road, and moved again. Fire and movement! Give Sam time to get into position. I faced a dash across ten meters of open ground to reach the truck. You never hear the shot that zaps you! And when I reached the cab there might be a gun to meet me, or no starter key, or the motor wouldn’t fire. I was shivering with fear when I lifted my com to my mouth and said, “Start shooting, Sam!”

  ^ He hit his target with his first round. Good hunting, boy! Somebody was writhing on the road. Another shot, and a figure lurched out from behind the truck. An instant later somebody tossed a thermite grenade. These people weren’t as good as they thought they were! Never been under fire before, I’ll bet. The thermite blazed. Eyes covered I raced for the cab. There was a man in it, but he was still blinded by the thermite. I jerked him from the driver’s seat and shot him as he sprawled at the roadside. The motor was running.

  I rammed the shift ahead, blew off the face of a man tugging at the far door, felt the cab tilt as one wheel started to slide into the ditch, then leveled as I fought the truck around to head down the road. I switched on the headlights.

  More light flooded round me as Barbara switched on hers. There were men in the rear of the truck; illuminated for Sam. He was picking them off, his rounds thudding into the back of the cab but well clear of me. Men were shouting and screaming. In the rear-view mirror I saw others rolling on the road, trying to avoid the pounding wheels of the Brinks. Then we were out of the cutting and among the good clean woods. Pointless bullets whistling past the truck from the goons left behind.

  Round the next bend. Fourteenth post. Thirteenth post. I pulled over and waved Barbara past. She didn’t pause. Good girl! I watched her tail-lights disappear as the Brinks went hammering away toward safety. Then I slewed the truck across the road, dropped the nose into the ditch, and faded into the darkness under the trees, waiting for my prey.

  An automobile came hurtling round the bend, swerved, and skidded to a halt when its headlights picked up the truck. Men were jumping out of the car. Fools! They hadn’t the sense to know they were in my sights.

  A rifle cracked from the far side of the road. Shouts and confusion. The auto reversed madly away. Sam had cheated me of my kill. I lowered my Luger, wiped my forehead, and tried to quench my anger. I waited for him to cross the road.

  He was behind me! I swung around. Automatic reaction, Luger coming up. But he had moved already. “It’s only me—Sam!” His hand had touched my arm before I knew he was there. “Follow me, Mister Gavin. I know how we can cut through the woods across this bend.”

  J went with him through the darkness among the trees and we nearly got shot by Midge who had thought we were bandits. When she recognized us she dropped her gun and started hugging me. I passed her on to Sam and went to Barbara, sitting silent behind the wheel.

  I kissed her, and she let me, but other thoughts were already filling her mind. “All aboard—let’s get the hell out of here! I’m set to shake the shit out of Council.”

  Barbara was herself again.

  XIV

  I had not expected that we would be hailed as heroes, but neither had I thought that we would be criticized as hotheads who had endangered the security of the Settlement. Yackle didn’t put it in so many words, but that was what I sensed in his expression and comments when we reported what had happened to the Council that evening. Several Councillors seemed to feel that it was our fault we had been bushwacked. They disapproved of the fact that we had left several of our attackers dead while none of us had even been wounded. I began to experience the fury of a woman who reports she’s been raped and then finds herself the target of criticism for putting herself into a situation where she could be.

  “I told you to offer them the gold, Jehu,” said Yackle fretfully. “You should have thrown it out of the truck. Then they’d have let you proceed without any shooting.”

  “Damnation!” I burst out before Jehu could answer. “Those bastards were after the girls too! If you wanted us to toss out Barbara and Midge, why didn’t you say so?”

  Yackle opened his mouth, hesitated, then shut it again. Some oldster farther down the table muttered that two young girls should never have been allowed to visit Standish. Not only was that exposing them to temptation, they themselves were a temptation to the outsiders.

  “I took Barbara because she handles the Brinks better’n any driver we’ve got,” said Jehu. “And she proved it today!” “And I wanted Midge because she’s our best operator,” said Barbara, who had been listening without expression to the debate. “Anyway, this won’t happen again. Because none of us are going to take a truck up to Standish again!”

  Again Yackle started to speak, then he shrugged. “What’s done is done! Now we’re likely to have the State Police coming down here to investigate.”

  “They didn’t come when we called on them for help. So what makes you think they’ll come and tell us why they didn’t?” asked Midge. The juniors were starting to speak up.

  “It’s my belief that the cops are in cahoots with that gang who jumped us,” remarked Jehu. “Maybe it was the police themselves—”

  “None of this talk’s giving us a course to steer.” Enoch puffed on his pipe and studied his fellow Councillors. “Ain’t the time come when we’ll have to start changing our attitudes? Haven’t we got to decide what to do if trouble comes to us?”

  There were murmurs of assent and dissent all along the council table. “What do you mean exactly, Enoch?” asked Yackle, putting his elbows on the table and his fingertips together.

  “I mean we’ve got to make some plan to defend ourselves If them there townies gets it into their heads to come and bum us out That is, if we want to stay on in the Cove.”

  “Of course we want to stay!” snapped Amanda from beside Yackle. “This is our home.”

  "Then we’d better get ready to keep them wolves from our doors.”

  “You’re suggesting we build defenses?”

  “Defenses won’t do us no good. Not unless we plan to shoot from behind ’em!”

  From the silence which followed his remark, Enoch might have voiced some obscene suggestion. Yackle pressed his fingertips so tightly together that they went white. Then he said, “Brother Enoch, the Light led us to this remote haven at a time when the world was full of war. We came here to avoid the killings and other horrors that go with war. For over twenty years we have lived righteous and peaceful lives. They never came to take our young men and women away to fight against other young men and women. Are you suggesting that we now arm ourselves to fight against our nearest neighbors?” “That’s about it, Chuck. Unless we want to see ’em come and take those young women of ours off to divide up among themselves. Like the radio tells us they’ve been doin’ to other Settlements. Settlements right here in America!”

  Yackle put his face in his hands. Amanda asked, “What have we got to fight with?”

  “We all carry rifles in our boats,” said Enoch. “And ever since that killer whale attacked Martha’s most of us have had a few sticks of dynamite along. I know I have.” He looked around the table and met either nods of assent or eyes that avoided his.

  Yackle took his hands away from his face. “W
e are all weary from today’s events, and the subject is too important to debate while we are tired. We will discuss it at length tomorrow. But before we break up I would like to suggest a vote of thanks to Mister Gavin. For better or worse, he risked his life today to save four of our own from the sword of the despoiler.”

  There was a general mutter of assent and, to my surprise, even the disapproving oldster joined in. I said, “It’s young Sam over there who was the real hero today.”

  Yackle smiled sadly. “When we first came to Sutton Cove we hoped that the only heroes we would have would be those who face the anger of the sea. Now, alas, it seems as if they may have to face the anger of our enemies.” He stood up and began the invocation of the Light which closed the meeting.

  When the prayer was over I started toward the door with the rest of the crowd who had been listening to the debate. Yackle called me back. “Mister Gavin, may I have a private word with you?”

  “They don’t want heroics around here,” I muttered to Judith. ‘Today I pretended to be a hero, so now they’re going to blackball me!” I went back to the council table expecting to be told I was being thrown out because I was an unhealthy example for their young.

  Yackle waited until the room was empty, then said in a low voice, “Our gratitude was genuine. I know what your opinion of me is, Mister Gavin. I can only say that the path of diplomacy must be followed in the hope that it will avoid the abyss. But once one knows that the abyss lies ahead and there is no detour, then I must persuade others like myself to stand aside and let those more skilled in the arts of—of—” For once Yackle seemed at a loss for the right word.

  “The art of killing?” I suggested. “You could learn that art quickly enough, I’m afraid, Chairman Yackle. And you’re going to have to learn it. You’ve been the shepherd of this flock for a long time, and you’ve been a good one, though too optimistic perhaps. But, like Enoch said, the wolves are howling around and the shepherd must go for his gun.”

  He looked up at me. “I have been a dove since my boyhood. Now you are suggesting I metamorphose into an eagle?”

  “Just trust in the Lord. He will show you how to preserve your people.” I could not refrain from capping my advice with a quotation of Gramps: “Blessed be the Lord my strength, who giveth my hand to war and my fingers to fight." I left him staring at me and went to join Judith outside on the steps.

  As we walked back through the village toward our cottage I said, “Now the truth’s outl They know I’m a killer by profession.”

  Judith had been restraining her curiosity until I spoke. Now she asked, “What did Chuck want? If he sends you away—I’ll be coming with you.”

  “Send me away?” I laughed although I found little humor in the situation. “That’s the last thing on his mind. He wants me to tell him how to keep the ungodly out of Sutton Cove. He didn’t say so in as many words, but that’s what he’s after. Chuck’s like a lot of decent men. Hates having to ask for help from a killer, but knows he’ll have to. I tried to encourage him to do his own dirty work.”

  “You think that defending ourselves is dirty work?”

  “Of course not, Judy. But I wish people wouldn’t talk about having to fight as though it was all dirty. Damnation, you’re a surgeon! You cut into living flesh. Do people treat you as if you were a butcher?”

  We had climbed the path to the door of our cottage and I stopped to look back at the cove below, at the soft yellow lights reflected in the calm waters of the harbor, at the fishing boats moving easily at their buoys. Despite myself, I liked this place and admired the people in it. But defend it? That was impossible!

  Judith took my arm and led me inside. “The first thing you need is supper. Sit down at the table, prepared to eat.” She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with a bowl of fish stew. Its scent drove depression from my mind, at least for as long as I was still hungry.

  She finished her stew quickly, then watched me as I finished mine. She had that surgical look in her green eyes. I was in no mood to be dissected, but I had no escape. “Go ahead! Ask!” I pushed my empty plate away from me.

  “You don’t think we’ve much chance of holding Sutton Cove if we’re attacked, do you?”

  I shrugged. “Believers are non-fighters. Pacifists, almost by definition. The kids seem to see what we’re in for. So do some of the oldsters. Enoch, Jehu, Amanda, for instance. Even Yackle. In fact Yackle sees better than anybody else here—including me. But the rest—” I threw up my hands. “Gavin, why did you become a soldier?”

  A question for which I was completely unprepared and answered with a joke. “Like they used to say: Join the army and see the world. Join the air force and see the next!”

  She persisted. “I’m serious. Why did you?”

  “Because I wanted to. That’s the only answer I can give. I used to be ashamed to give it. Like admitting to want kinky sex—though God knows there’s not much left that’s still considered kinky.” I fiddled with my desert spoon. “I used to give myself all sorts of excuses for my unnatural desire—to become a fighting man.”

  “And you don’t give excuses anymore?”

  “Not since I realized that I was bom that way. And that I wasn’t abnormal. Just archaic! And that there was still a market for guys like me.”

  “Gav—if there were more guys like you this world would be a better place.” She was still studying me as if looking for a site to start an incision. “And you’re not really a fighting man. Or is that the same as being a soldier?”

  I laughed. “Not quite! Soldiering’s an old trade. As old as man. For the last hundred years it’s been out of fashion—at least in the Affluence. Out of fashion—in an age that’s been spending more money on weapons than any age has ever spent. Real money, percentage of GNP, I mean. That’s the paradox! Except for a few throwbacks like me, no sane individual, no sane government, wanted to fight. So they built weapon systems that will annihilate everybody if anybody starts! Which was the craziest thinking. Because, sooner or later, somebody would have started. Maybe Impermease is a blessing in disguise. At least people will die off naturally. Fighting’s natural too. Bloody but natural—like childbirth.” “It’s natural for men to fight like animals?”

  “The trouble is that men don’t fight like animals. They fight like men. And women too, these days!” I shrugged. “If your Teacher’s only half right, there’s going to be a lot of natural selection for animal traits in the next few years.”

  She persisted. “You mean that those humans with the greatest lust for blood will be the ones who’ll survive to breed?”

  “No!” I stood up. Then I sat down. “Natural selection doesn’t work like that. And you know it! Also, blood-lust, whatever that is, has nothing to do with it Some men who like fighting are bloody-minded murderers. Some are meek slobs who turn sick at the sight of blood when away from the action. It’s not some kind of an addiction—it’s not like being hooked on alcohol or drugs or sex. If you can’t have it, you can go without it I never wanted to fight anybody in the Pen. I never missed not having a drink in the Pen. But I enjoy a bourbon when it’s available, and so I go to places where it is available when opportunity offers. Because when it’s available, then I want it” I stood up again. “Soldiers aren’t psychopaths—”

  “Sit down, Gav! I know they aren’t And there’s apple pie for dessert. I baked it while you were fighting off those bandits. It kept my hands and mind busy while I was wondering if I’d ever see you alive again!” She disappeared into the kitchen and returned with the pie in her hands. She put it on the table and again her eyes began to probe me. “So you think fighting’s inborn? Are there enough of us with the talent to defend this place?”

  I gave her stare for stare. “There’s you—for one!”

  “Me?” She bent to help out the pie, then said quietly, “I suppose I would fight if I have to.”

  “If the Settlement stays in the Cove, then you will have to. And you’ll find you won’t need blood-l
ust or anything else so degrading. Just talent. And you’ve got the talent, if anybody here has. I’ve seen you in action. You may not have the instinct to kill—but, by God, you’ve got the drive to fight and the brains to win!”

  She looked uncomfortable, as though I were praising her for a skill of which she was ashamed. She handed me my plate and pushed the cream pitcher toward me. “Eat your pie. I was crying while I baked it. That’s how tough I am!” “Homer’s heroes and Elizabethan sea captains wept buckets. All over the place and at any excuse. So you can’t cop out because you sob as you shoot. Of course, you won’t Not when you’re having to aim.” I started on the pie. “God, but this is good!”

  We finished our dessert in silence and I began to clear the table. She followed me into the kitchen. “Gavin, if there were more of us talented people, could we defend the Settlement?” “No! Sutton’s indefensible against anything more than a mob. But enough to defend the Settlement if it were some place it could be defended.” I went and threw a couple of logs on the fire. “Fairhaven for instance.”

  “I don’t think the Council will move.”

  “If they don’t—I will! Judy, you’ve seen the kind of signals we’re getting from other Settlements. Federal Marshals arriving to arrest ‘suspects.’ ‘Rescue teams’ coming to rescue children. ‘Deprogramming experts’ to deprogram Believers. I’m not going to hang around waiting to be picked up and shipped to some ‘rehab center’—that’s what they’re calling the concentration camps. That’s where the Administration is mind-wiping Believers and distributing children, especially girls, for adoption by the Administration’s friends. As soon as the Feds come—I go!”