Edward Llewellyn

by Prelude to Chaos

  The last cars to arrive were the first to leave, backing away or trying to turn. A pickup, reversing too fast, went out of control, dropped a wheel into the ditch, and spun around, blocking the road. The next vehicle rammed it. A gang of cursing drivers from the trapped cars combined to push both vehicles down the bank and into the creek. The group who had reached the far side came splashing back, running to their cars.

  “That’s cooled ’em off!” said Barbara. “They won’t try that again!”

  “Not that they won’t!” I snarled. “Next time it won’t be a drunken mob looking for a good time. The next gang will come sober, armed, and shooting!”

  Sheriff Zimpfer and his Deputies arrived in the Brinks as the road was starting to clear of smoke, mob, and cars. He walked to the edge of the creek with his bullhorn and roared an order to disperse in an orderly fashion. The goons still trying to recover their cars yelled threats and curses back.

  Somebody from among the trees fired a burst over their heads. The goons stopped shouting, abandoned their ditched cars, and scrambled aboard those still mobile. Joe called on the com to report that the whole mob were streaming back toward Standish, some still firing wildly into the woods. “Most of their autos look battered!”

  Nobody seemed to have been killed or seriously hurt. Barbara and I slid down to join Sheriff Zimpfer just as Judith arrived with Yackle on the pillion of her Yama. Both were armed with revolvers. So the Settlement did have some weapons stashed away, and Yackle was starting to issue them. They joined us to study the six wrecked and two burning automobiles on the road beyond the bridge.

  “Reckon you can tell everybody to go home now, Chairman Yackle,” said the Sheriff. “This lot won’t be back!”

  “Not today,” said Judith. “But another day perhaps.” She hitched up her gunbelt and stared up the road. Things were changing with Judith. Things were changing in Sutton Cove. I could only hope they were not changing too late to matter.

  “A bloodless victory!” Yackle was nodding with satisfaction. “Well done, Barbara!” He gave the girl an approving pat on the shoulder. “Better than I dared hope.”

  So Yackle had known about Barbara’s plan all the time. Perhaps it wasn’t her plan at all but Chairman Yackle’s. Barbara, however, seemed quite happy to take the credit for it. And from the way Judith avoided my eye I suspected she had been in on it too! Suddenly and illogically I was angry not to have been included in their planning sessions. I was supposed to be the professional around here. Me—not a bunch of kids, a pacifist Chairman, and a female surgeon!

  Yackle moved to stand beside me. “Mister Gavin, you and I will have to discuss how we can best meet future threats.” “You met that one pretty well without my advice!” “Without your advice?” He stared at me in simulated astonishment. “But the strategy was yours! We simply devised the tactics. It was the same strategy you advised Sherando to follow. When you told them to fire the cars of any mob which drove out to attack the Settlement. You said that the outsiders would rush to rescue their vehicles and forget about burning the Settlement.”

  “Sherando? You knew that I’d been at Sherando?” “Recently, Mister Gavin. I only learned it recently. When Judith realized an attack upon us was inevitable and came to tell me we had one defense expert among us. Please do not be concerned about having stayed in Sherando. We know you are hot a heretic!” And he walked away to start arranging the return of the women and children to their homes.

  Being judged a heretic was the least of my concerns. I rode my bike back to the village, furious with Judith, with Yackle, with the whole damned lot of them.

  The first hint of an official threat came from the State Police the next day when two cruisers arrived in Sutton Cove for the first time in a year. It was not a belated answer to our call for help; it was to investigate a report that we had ambushed and set fire to the cars of some harmless citizens who had approached the Settlement. The officers inspected the damaged cars, listened to Sheriff Zempfer’s account of the incident, and threatened to arrest several adults for the unlawful discharge of firearms within a hundred meters of a public highway plus a number of kids as juvenile delinquents. They finally went away without arresting anybody but they left us with the impression that we would be hearing more about our offenses against law and order.

  A week later Sergeant Carver arrived, alone and unofficially. The Settlement Council was about to be charged with civil disobedience under the Social Stability Act, a Federal offense which put us in the clutches of the Federal authorities. We could expect a squad of Federal Marshals to arrive and arrest the Council for trial and take off our children for “deprogramming.” We could also expect that others of us, particularly the girls and young women, would be taken into “protective custody” as “material witnesses.”

  The Sergeant’s advice was for us to get to hell out of Sutton Cove while the going was good. “Find some place where you can he low until they’ve forgotten about you. It’s my belief that things are going to get so bad in the, next few months that the Feds will have more to do than hound peaceful folks, like yourselves.” He sighed, hitched up his belt, touched his hat, and departed, after saying he’d appreciate our not mentioning his visit.

  This kid isn’t going to be taken off and deprogrammed,” remarked Barbara, after the sergeant had gone. But she refused to tell me how she planned to prevent it. When I asked Yackle, he shrugged. “I expect they’ll take to the woods. Or go up the coast in their boats for a while. They’ll come back after the Federal Marshals have left.”

  “The Feds may not leave until they’ve grabbed every girl they can get. Every young woman, for that matter. And what about you and the rest of Council?”

  He smiled sadly. “I suppose we’ll have to surrender to superior force if they insist on arresting us. But I cannot believe that the Federal Authorities really want to saddle themselves with a group of oldsters. I pray they will let us be when they find the children and young women are no longer here.” “Chuck—for God’s sake, listen to me! You don’t know the present breed of Fed like I do. Like Judith does. Ask her if you don’t believe me. They’re quite capable of forcing you to tell them where the women and children have gone. This is 2030, not 2010!”

  “They won’t be able to force us to tell them. Because we won’t know.”

  “Christ—that’s even worse! It’s bad enough being interrogated when you know what they’re trying to get out of you. It’s pure hell when you’re a loser—when you don’t know but they think you do! They’ll work you over in ways that went out with the Inquisition—updated for greater effect!”

  “If that is the Light’s wish—then so be it.”

  Another martyr in the making! I walked away, cursing his foolishness and wondering how many martyrs had changed their minds after they discovered what martyrdom was really like. Changed their minds too late! I went to Judith, who might have a martyr complex but also had a strong survival drive. All she would tell me was that she planned to leave with the women and children. She wouldn’t tell me where. Even Judith, my wife, did not trust me. And she was right not to.

  The Feds arrived on a Sunday morning when the whole adult population of the Settlement was worshipping together. Everybody except the single unbeliever—me. I had watched the kids, the women and children, disappearing into the woods the moment the radar aboard the Ranula had picked up the approaching choppers. A well-planned exodus that would result in tragedy for everybody still in the village. If I had had any sense I would have gone with Judith, but some obscure bond held me in the Settlement so long as Yackle waited there to be picked up. But I stayed well hidden.

  The Feds came in three gunships and one large transport. The moment the squads jumped from their ships and ran to take up positions around the Council Hall I knew that was no collection of Federal Marshals; these were men from the Special Strike Force in the uniforms of Federal Marshals. They were commanded by a tall Captain, who must have been well briefed about Believer customs, f
or he put a cordon around the hall and sent patrols to search the empty houses and the Ranula, now lying deserted alongside the wharf.

  When a patrol had checked my workshop I came out of hiding and slipped between the buildings until I was as close to the Captain as I dared. He evidently knew that one strict rule of life in a Settlement was that all Believers not too sick to get out of bed must attend the Sunday service. He was sure that the whole population was inside the Hall. When Chairman Yackle led his flock out of the main entrance he stepped forward and said, politely enough, “Mister Yackle? Then you are under arrest for offenses against the Social Stability Act. As are all your colleagues on Council.”

  “Captain! I must protest! This is both illegal and immoral. We are peaceful citizens of the United States who have never caused any trouble to our neighbors or threatened social stability in any way.”

  “Sorry, sir. That’s not my concern. You will be given a fair trial. I also have orders to take into protective custody a number of minors and material witnesses.” He looked at the crowd. “Is everybody here?”

  “Everybody who is in the Settlement at present, Captain.” “Where are all the children? And the—the others?” He could not bring himself to say “girls.” He didn’t like this job, but he was doing it.

  “Perhaps I can help you.” Barbara wormed her way from the crowd, she had been hiding God knows where, and now emerged to stand facing the officer. I cursed her for showing herself, then stiffened as I heard her voice on the com. If I could hear, so could her squad. Nobody in the crowd could for she was speaking softly and Yackle had moved away to comfort his congregation.

  “Where are the other youngsters?” The Captain was looking down at Barbaxa and now, faced with the fact that he was about to seize a number like her, take them away for a fate he was keeping out of his mind, his expression showed that he was disliking his job more and more. But he continued to perform it.

  “Before I tell you, Captain, will you promise not to hit me? Not to shout at me or anything?”

  “Hit you? Of course I won’t hit you. You don’t want the others to hear what you’re going to tell me? Is that it?” “Please sir!”

  The Captain nodded and bent so she could whisper in his ear. He heard. I heard. Barbara’s squad heard. Her words were clear. “You had better tell your men to stand fast. And you had better stand fast yourself.”

  “And why should I do that, Miss?”

  “Because if you look very slowly up the hillside, toward that pile of rocks halfway up the cliff behind me, you will see a young man with a rifle. He is well camouflaged so he is not easy to pick out except by a well-trained soldier’s eye—such as yours!” She moved backwards, beyond reach of the Captain’s grasp, as he casually scanned the apparently bare cliff, then stiffened when he saw the hidden rifleman. “What—?” “Still!” hissed Barbara. “Telescopic sights. Veralloy-coated bullets! They’ll puncture your armor, Captain. And he won’t miss.” She was watching his frozen face. “The charge is high-velocity.” She was still speaking so softly that nobody except myself and the Captain appreciated the threat she was making. Or her skill in holding his attention long enough to deliver the whole of it. “There are forty other marksmen hidden on both sides of the Cove. All with telescopic sights, veralloy-coated rounds, and high-velocity charges. By now each of them has identified a target. Forty marksmen with their sights on thirty Federal Marshals. All knowing the range to a meter and all behind good cover.”

  The Captain made an instinctive movement toward her.

  She stepped back, then stood firm. “If you grab me. Or if I signal. You—and every one of your men—will be dead in the first volley.”

  “You wouldn’t dare! You’re bluffing!” But he kept his voice low, and that showed he feared she wasn’t.

  “I’m not bluffing. Though I’d rather like you to believe I am.” Her gray eyes were fixed on his face. “Because the quickest solution to our problem would be to kill the lot of you with one salvo.”

  Watching the Captain’s face, I could almost read his mind.

  This child might have some boy fool enough to shoot at him. But to have forty marksmen hidden—that was so far outside his image of young girls—of pacifist Believers—that he was about to lunge forward, call her bluff, and start a massacre. I stepped from behind the building where I had been hiding and called, “Hold it, Captain! She’s right!”

  He checked his move and stared at me. I walked over to stand where I was within his hearing but outside the reach of both him and Barbara. My Luger was now strapped openly at my hip and the sight of it convinced the Captain that here was the person he really had to face. “Who are you?”

  “Once a Trooper. Third Section. Under Colonel Jewett. Before your time, Captain.”

  “Colonel Jewett!” The name still echoed through the Force.

  “The same.” I moved closer and spoke as softly as had Barbara. “Every word this brat has said is true. Those oldsters are pacifists. These kids are killers. They’ve hunted deer through those woods all their lives. Now they’re aching for a chance to hunt men. They’re first-class shots and they don’t plan on being taken off for reprogramming. Though most of ’em sure need it!”

  Slowly he surveyed the cliffs on both sides of the Cove. Then he looked back at me. “My orders are to arrest the ringleaders of this Settlement. And to rescue the children.”

  “I was with the Third when General Grainer was ordered to capture Eastern Moonbase. Grainer had the guts to obey his reason rather than his orders. That’s why I—and you— are still alive. Take the time to satisfy youself that each of your men is on the wrong end of a rifle. Then get them out of here alive. Let the politicos do their own dirty work. Let them do the dying for a change.”

  He still hesitated. He had not believed he had walked into a trap set by children. He was having trouble accepting a trap set by even a Trooper of the Third. I said to Barbara, “Tell them to hold their fire. I have something I must show the Captain.” I put my hand slowly in my hip pocket, as terrified as I have ever been in my life. The rifles were up on that hillside all right, and they were aimed at us by excellent marksmen. But they were rifles in the hands of kids, and I was asking them to act like veterans.

  I eased my Secret Service badge from my pocket and held it for both of them to see. “Captain,” I said. “Some bastard has fooled you into dressing up in the wrong uniform. Sent you on the wrong mission at the wrong time. I’m in charge here. I don’t want to have thirty Troopers shot. But I will if you don’t get your men out—pronto!”

  He stared at my badge, then at me. “What the hell are you people up to now?”

  “That’s my business. I work for the President—not for the Attorney Generali”

  He understood enough of that implication to think that he was caught in the middle of some political bloodbath. He stared at Barbara. “Girl—if you’re helping the SS take over—you’ll end by wishing it had been us.”

  “Captain—get your ass out of here!”

  “Quiet, brat!” I snapped. “Captain, call over your Second. Let him see my badge too. So he’ll know why you’re aborting the mission.”

  He met my eyes. I was giving him an out and he took it. He gestured his Lieutenant over to stare at my badge, then shouted, “Stand down all! Mission’s terminated. Sergeant— get everybody back aboard!”

  The Lieutenant looked livid, the squad baffled. But, being what they were, they obeyed without question. I watched them boarding the gunships, keeping the Captain at my side. Then I walked with him to his ship. Barbara followed.

  He muttered to her, “I hope you know what you’re getting into!”

  “We know,” she said, and laughed. “You go! And I advise you to keep going before they con you into doing something that obliterates what’s left of your honor! Special Strike Force dressed up as Feds!” She laughed again, with more contempt than I had heard in the laugh of any woman.

  It stung the Captain into swinging around, sta
ring at this terrible girl-child. She stared back, her gray eyes as hard as agate. “And if you’re thinking of shooting us up after you’re airborne—don’t try it! The first ship to fire a burst will get hit by five Strelas.”

  “Strelas! You’ve got Strelas? How the hell—”

  “Old models. But still fully operational. So flake off, and keep going!”

  He still hesitated, then asked quietly, “How old are you?” “A little younger than Alexander when he’d conquered half of Asia. Older than Cleopatra when she’d captured all Egypt. And older than Von Helm when he’d shot down his fiftieth enemy. Does that answer your question?”

  “Hell on earth!” He turned and climbed into his ship. The hatch slammed and the choppers took off. They circled above us, as though deciding what to do, then shot away inland.

  I swung on Barbara. “You’ve got Strelas? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Strelas? Of course we haven’t got Streias! But if that poor bastard of a Captain reports we have—that might keep their gunships away!”

  Now we had no option; we had to evacuate the Cove. We had used up our real source of strength; the belief by outsiders that we were weak and helpless. We had been able to ambush our attackers only because they had thought they were about to overrun or arrest a bunch of unarmed pacifists. Now they would over-react—especially if the Captain reported how we had jumped him and threatened him with Strelas. Personally I doubted that he would. From his expression when he left I suspected he would take Barbara’s parting advice and keep going. Probably he and his squad would convert to bandits. Anything to avoid explaining to his Colonel how he had let himself be ambushed by children and bluffed by one fake SS agent We had to move, and we prepared to move, but the prospect of Fairhaven as our future home was so depressing that we hung on in the Cove, hoping that in the growing confusion, we would be ignored. That the Feds would leave us alone. As they did. When our next threat came it was not from the Federal Government but from the Government of Maine, which had taken upon itself to start acting like an independent state. As its Governor had taken on the role of a local Dictator, with the National Guard as his private army, “keeping the peace” throughout Maine. And for all Settlements the term keeping the peace carried overtones of “getting the girls.”