by Brom Kearne
26
Webster Grove, in the meantime, had not been doing very well. Melina Bann had abducted Len Dietrich with such skill, and with such subtly, that no one knew what had become of either of them. The line of Len Dietrich was characterized by paranoia that the family business should fall to sibling rivalry or familial infighting, and so each member of the family had produced only a single heir to continue the line of succession. No one knew what became of female children, although it was heavily rumored that they were swept away on the night of their births and put up for adoption in a distant part of the province, so they would never know the truth of their lineage, and would never come seeking a handout from the family business. Once a male heir was achieved, he was named for the line and further children were no longer sought. As such, Len Dietrich the Fourth had no family to run the business in his absence, and as he had not married yet, he had no heirs to come into power. With the enormous amount of influence that L & D Shipping exercised over the town of Webster Grove, this absence of leadership meant that not only the company but the entire town found itself leaderless, which was especially troubling for the town as they had been promised a great many things by Len Dietrich. The general feeling among the people was that they had been conned, although they couldn’t quite figure out why or how, or what Len Dietrich had to gain by suddenly and unexpectedly disappearing. But the unrest contributed to the overall mood and desire for revolution, and many who had previously been skeptical of overthrowing the status quo began to come around once it became clear that Len Dietrich was missing and that all of his grand promises were nothing but smoke.
Late in the evening of the second day a group of wealthy and well-connected citizens, who wanted to prevent revolution, freed Mayor Dinesh and the imprisoned pale greens with the hope that they would restore order. Their faith was misplaced, however, as Mayor Dinesh holed up in his mansion and surrounded himself with those very same pale greens, as though they were his own personal security detail. And Len Dietrich’s private security, who had assumed the responsibilities of the police force in their absence, had shirked on their duties the moment their boss disappeared. They were as clueless as anyone else as to what had become of him, and with the future of their paychecks in question chose to err on the side of caution by not taking a definitive stand one way or the other. They congregated in the Lean and Pale and allowed the revolution, if it came to that, to take care of itself.
On the western side of the Old Foss the farmers were in a bit of turmoil themselves. They had been assured by Len Dietrich that they could begin irrigating their fields once more and that they would no longer be subject to property taxes, but after word began to spread that Len Dietrich had vanished without a trace, they began to question if defying Bradenfield was the best course of action. Despair began to take hold in their hearts as they believed that what they had been told was simply too good to be true, and that they were going to be in a worse position for having believed the charlatan than if they had just ignored him altogether. With this despair came anger and a fervent desire to do something, but without a clear course of action they once again found themselves shouting each other down in Josh Varick’s living room. No one had any answers, and it was far easier to vent their frustrations on one another than to direct them in a manner that might bring them greater harm in the long run.
It was into this atmosphere of unrest that a column of dust, heralding the coming of the Amber Bones Gang, rode from out of the wilderness. Eli Varick was sitting on the roof of his father’s house, shooting his slingshot at birds and avoiding the angry shouting from below, when he became the first to see this column of dust. At first he thought it was just a dust devil as the arid lands to the north sometimes produced, although he was impressed by the size of it. But as it drew nearer he realized that it was far bigger than he had at first thought. He shielded his eyes from the setting sun and stood on the northernmost gable of the house in order to get a better look. What he saw froze his blood.
As the column of bikes crossed out of the wilderness and into the plowed fields of the northern farms they didn’t kick up as much dust, and so became more visible. It was a lengthy row of bikes led by a glowing amber skeleton standing upon a throne that looked as though it were made from human skulls. Eli Varick had heard that the gang was led by the living dead, but he had never truly believed it. He had assumed that it was just part of their image that they used to frighten people who weren’t part of them. He had a difficult time reconciling that cynicism with what he saw before him.
After watching them for several minutes, as if to verify that what he was seeing was indeed real, and wasn’t a mirage brought on by the setting sun, or the nightmarish daydream of an overactive imagination, he dropped from the corner of the gable and went inside.
“Guys,” he said, coming into the living room out of breath, and being ignored as the farmers continued arguing and shouting. “Guys!” he repeated a bit more loudly, and a third time after that.
His father was taking most of the brunt of the farmers’ anger again. He seemed to be about the only person in the room, excepting Eli of course, who wasn’t red-faced and shouting. He was, for the most part, the one being shouted at.
Being attuned as only a parent can be to the voice of his son, Josh Varick made him out over the din and, rather than futilely request that everyone else quiet down, he stepped over to him.
“What is it? Can’t you see that I’m busy?” Josh said, although his tone was grateful for having the excuse to be pulled away.
Eric Prasson thought it incredibly rude that Josh would walk away while he was talking to him, and trailed in his footsteps to let him know exactly that. Eli didn’t say anything, but he pointed through the living room to the dining room and the north side of the house. Josh looked puzzled, and followed the direction of Eli’s finger. He peered through the window, but at first couldn’t make out to what his son was pointing. They had a clear and unobstructed view of the fields to the north from this window and he could see what appeared to be a large shape moving towards them, although the window’s low vantage point hindered his ability to make out what it was that he was seeing.
“Are you paying attention to me?” demanded Eric Prasson.
“Do you see that?” Josh asked, ignoring the question.
“It’s just a dust devil, whatever are you on about?”
“Son, what is it?” Josh asked, but as he turned he saw that Eli was no longer standing at his side. “Excuse me,” he said, and bounded up the stairs and into his son’s bedroom, to where Eli had taken refuge. The window from this room looked out over the northern fields. From here his blood was chilled as he beheld the same sight that Eli had beheld from the roof.
“It’s the Amber Bones, dad,” Eli said in a small voice from the bed. “It’s Court Raleigh.”
“That’s just an old folktale,” Josh said, more out of reflex than anything else. His rational mind knew that it was just a gang that was riding under the totem of Court Raleigh, but they made a terrifying and convincing enough spectacle that his emotional mind was left reeling.
“Son,” he said, “I need you to do something very important. Can you do it?”
“What?” Eli folded his arms over his chest.
“I need you to run across the river and tell someone about this as fast as you can. Tell the pale greens, or better yet, go to the town hall or the mayor’s mansion and tell them. Ok?”
Eli didn’t move. He looked like he didn’t want to exert the energy necessary to carry out his father’s task.
“Son! This is important.”
There was something of a dangerous edge in Josh’s voice that spurred Eli to his feet. “Ok, ok,” he said, and he passed Eric Prasson on the stairs as he headed out of the house.
Josh didn’t know what it meant that a column of bikes led by a skeletal figure astride a throne of human skulls was crossing the northern fields, but he didn’t like it. He instinctively felt that they were all in danger, and his reaso
n for sending Eli over the river for help was because he wanted him out of the way of that danger. He knew that the trip would keep him occupied for some time.
Eric Prasson poked his head into the room. He had picked up on the undercurrent of urgent energy in Josh’s behavior that alerted him that something was very, very wrong. Josh merely pointed out the window and huffed, “Dust devils, is it?” as he pushed past the older farmer and went back downstairs to the living room.
The other farmers seemed to have picked up on that same undercurrent of urgent energy as they were looking to Josh Varick with questioning eyes when he strode back into the room. Gone were the red, angry faces, and in their place only puzzlement.
“Weapons,” Josh said. “We need weapons.”
“Whatever for?”
“Josh, what in the name of the devil is going on?”
“Look for yourself,” Josh said. “And go, find what weapons you can. We may have to defend our lands tonight.”
The farmers curiously peered through the windows in the northern side of the house, although Eric Prasson soon joined them to give them all a picture of what was coming across the fields. The attack on the Pith farm, with the resulting death of Mr. Pith, had shaken the farming community to its core. To know that the entirety of the gang that had killed him was now riding across their fields and heading straight for them, was enough to send them nearly into a panic.
Whereas a few minutes before they had been wanting to tear Josh’s head off, now they looked to him once again as their leader. Josh was more comfortable in the role now, and began barking orders at everyone. He found Owen Baker and sent him across the river to the Lean and Pale to try and get some help from the pale greens or from Len Dietrich’s private police force. He sent Eric Prasson, Adrian Tobin, and Winston Kirwin to find tools that they could use as weapons. His wife appeared at the door of their room, drunk and sensing that something was wrong. Josh ordered her to go back to bed, and when she refused he ignored her completely. He had the rest of the farmers gather what wood, nails, and metal they could find in order to make a barricade to impede the progress of the coming gang.
Everyone met after several minutes and began work on the project. Even as they worked, Josh knew that they were woefully under-equipped to meet the coming column of bikers. While the idea of building a barricade was sound, the actuality was that it looked pathetic, and the sight of it, barely waist high and easily maneuvered around, made Josh’s stomach sink. The implements that the rest of the farmers returned with were the usual fare: pitchforks, axes, saw blades, and the like. They might be deadly enough in the hands of someone who knew how to use them, but Josh Varick didn’t believe that any of these farmers were capable of killing anyone. Perhaps he was wrong, and they would once they were forced to fight for their lives.
His heart sank even further as Owen Baker returned, panting and out of breath. He had made very good time, but Josh could see on his face that his mission had been unsuccessful. He listened to Owen’s report over the hammering and the sawing as the farmers worked to fasten pieces of wood together in a pathetically makeshift barricade.
There would be no help. The pale greens weren’t going to move without orders, and Len Dietrich’s private security didn’t feel any of this was their fight. Josh Varick had nothing more to do besides watch the approach of the gang, and try not to let the rest of the farmers know how hopeless he thought their situation was.
