by Sandy Nathan
Bud and Wes climbed down the ladder.
“Do you need any help?” Lena ran to the edge. “I used to help my grandpa with horses and mules.”
“No, ma’am. We’re used to doing it alone. Thank you, though.” Bud tipped his hat.
“It’s one of those reality TV shows,” Wes whispered to Bud as they were working with the horses. “That’s what it’s got to be. They kidnap people and put them in some weird location. There are teams. One team wins and another loses. Lots of money in it. People get really intense. Usually they don’t use celebrities as famous as me in the middle of a shoot …”
“Wes, you are the biggest pain in the ass. You think the world begins and ends with you.”
“Well, you’re a celebrity, too, Bud. They probably wanted you, too. This might be Indians against white guys, or take over the bitchin’ lady commando. We’ll probably have to do all sorts of tests, like rescue team members and like that. Sometimes you have to eat bugs or play paintball.”
“That’s what those are, paintball guns? You’re out of your mind, Silverhorse. We’re fucked. And Bert is making pot roast tonight.”
“Do you have your cell phone?”
“Yeah. Good idea.” Bud opened it up. “Nothing. No signal at all.”
“It’s because of the cliff. Why don’t we get into that valley, and call Will to rescue us? He’ll send in helicopters.”
“Let’s get this show on the road. The faster we train these horses, the faster we get rescued.”
“Hey, look at that guy!” Wes broke into a grin when he saw Sam. “The really big one with the red stubble? He was in Vision of Blood with me. He was the captain of the stunt team. He’s a great guy. See, they didn’t think I could remember. Let’s get him over here and recruit him to our side.”
Sam was surprised when the Indians beckoned him over. Wesley, the good-looking one, acted like he knew him.
“Hey, my man. Your name is Gunnar Helvik, isn’t it? You were in Vision of Blood, weren’t you? You were captain of the stunt team.” He did the high-five handshake.
Sam was glad that he knew how to do it. Lady Grace had given them very strict orders: “Do or say anything to get them to go along with us. Lie if you have to.”
“Yes. I was the stunt captain.”
“Oh, cool accent, Gunnar. Are you in role?”
“Yes. I am in role.”
“What is this? Is this a reality show? A contest or something? Where’s the other team?”
“Yes. This is a reality show. The other team is over there,” he pointed to the underground, identifiable by the vast thunderclouds over it. “We need to go there very fast.”
“When we get there, can we go home? My wife made pot roast. I hate to miss it.”
“Not tonight, maybe tomorrow.”
“We have to, like play games and things, yeah?”
“Yes. We have to do that.”
“Why are we taking all the guns?”
“To use. Can you show me how to shoot a gun?”
“You were good at it in Vision of Blood.”
“Yes, but these are real guns.”
“What do you mean, real guns?”
“Real guns.”
“But this is a reality show. I thought you used paint guns.”
“We have those. But this is a real reality show. We use real guns.”
“Fuck. I don’t get it, Gunnar. If this is a show, why real guns? Is this, like, some feud that Will Duane and his worst enemy got into and are playing to the death?’
“Yes, it’s like that. Can you teach me how to tame a horse? I need to know. My children are dying.”
‘What? Your children are dying?”
“Yes. The Bigs have them trapped under the ground. We need to rescue them before they die. We have very little time.”
“What are you talking about? They took kids and put them underground and we have to rescue them? That’s the game? That’s terrible.”
“Yes, it’s terrible. I put them there so the Bigs wouldn’t eat them.”
Wes began dancing up and down, the small initial steps of a war dance.
“Oh. I see.” Bud pulled the tall man aside. He didn’t like the way Wes looked. “Gunnar, Wesley is a really famous movie star. He’s basically a nice guy, but he’s had some adjustment issues, coming off the ranch and becoming so famous and rich so fast. Do you have any Xanax? Or tranquilizers?”
“My wife might. Do you want me to find out?”
Wes heard him and came over. “No, no! I’m fine, Bud. It’s fine. Every day, in every way, things are getting better and better. I’m great. If my probation officer doesn’t find out I’ve skipped town, I’ll even have a life again. If we get out of this, I’m going to build a guest cottage at my place in Santa Ynez and I’m going to hire a shrink to live in it and never leave home.”
Wes began doing war yells. The horses looked around nervously.
“This is good, Gunnar, he’s doing much better now.”
“We must finish the horses and go. Can you teach me how to ride? Jeremy said you give riding lessons.”
35
Sam stood in the field watching the Indians tame the horses. They worked together, putting their hands all over them. The animals dropped their heads and seemed to fall asleep. When they did that, Bud slipped a saddle on and Wesley mounted, slowly guiding them around. When they “woke up,” they were trained.
Wes and Bud went from one to another, working quickly. Sam thought he could do what they were doing—making the horses fall asleep by touching them, at least.
He was about to offer to help when he heard an unfamiliar noise, a loud buzzing coming from farther out in the meadow.
“What’s that?” Bud said. “Sounds like a helicopter.”
“Will sent a helicopter!” Wes faced the noise and waved his arms over his head. “Over here! We’re over here!”
Whatever it was was coming their way. The thunder of hooves drowned out the whirring noise. Sam could see something zigzagging behind a group of new horses, driving them toward the cliff—and them.
“Holy shit! What is that?” Wes dropped his hands, holding them around his eyes to see better.
It was dark and had a huge belly. Wings whizzed above it. Their speed made them almost invisible. Light glittered off the thing.
“Run! Those horses are gonna stampede!” Bud took off toward the cliff with Wes and Sam right behind him. The herd almost doubled in size when the new animals ran into the existing livestock. The horses milled around, raising dust. Whatever had been chasing them hovered above them.
Sam reached the cliff and turned back to look at the thing. Its belly was more than twice as long as he was, bulging and covered with horizontal plates. The top half was shiny and blue-black, glistening with a pink-purple luster. Some of the crawling bugs in the underground shone like that, like oily water.
The scales of the creature’s abdomen were pale pinkish lavender mottled with black markings like one of the lady’s fancy dresses. Lace, she had told him it was. The whole thing shimmered in the light, flashes reflecting from its hard plates. The wings were almost transparent, held together by silver veins and iridescent membranes. Each wing was much taller than him.
The creature had six black legs, which it extended when it got close to the cliff. The back legs were shapely; each bore a tiny hoof. He’d seen those legs and hooves before.
His jaw loosened and his mouth opened; he was unable to speak or move. The flying thing moved slowly, compelling him to follow it with his eyes. Nothing he had seen was so beautiful—or terrifying. It could be a winged forest bogey from the snake men’s tales.
The thing turned so that he could see its face. Huge silver eyes regarded him through slit pupils. Their expression bore no vestige of human feeling. Silver curls covered the creature’s head. Little furry antennae poked through her locks. It was Ellie. Sam’s knees buckled and he staggered, almost falling.
“Holy shit! It’s a giant was
p!” Wesley cried, running for the ladder.
Jeremy was a little way up the ladder, guiding a load of camping equipment that Mel and Henry were lowering with a rope. He saw the monster’s face and gasped, clattering down the rest of the rungs. He landed unsteadily, bumping into Wes.
Sam grabbed him, putting a hand over Jeremy’s mouth. The creature hovered above them, displaying herself. Her wings created a hurricane of dust and grit. Sam held Jeremy, turning toward the cliff to escape the dirt.
“It’s all right, Jeremy,” Sam said, using the Voice. He felt as though Ellie were telling him what to say.
“She loves you, Jeremy. She did it to save the babies.” Sam clutched Jeremy, keeping him from falling to the ground. Jeremy screamed, clawing at him, trying to run.
“Stop,” Sam said, making his Voice more powerful. He had hesitated to use it, even now that he was free. Ellie had been right. He needed to use his Voice, and he needed to be a more powerful leader than he had ever been.
“We must save the children,” he took over, using the Voice. “We will start now. Finish training the horses, Bud and Wes.” He gave everyone jobs, including the lady. Then he sat with Jeremy. Ellie had flown off in the direction of the underground shelter. They could hear the thunder from the huge storm hovering over it. Ellie’s doing, undoubtedly.
“She’s a wasp, Sam! Ellie turned into a wasp! I knew she wasn’t human, but I didn’t know she could change like that. Oh, God!” Jeremy sat with his forearms on his knees, tears flowing. “She came to me earlier. She sounded like she was leaving me. I didn’t get what she meant.” He wept, shaking his head.
“It must have been the fucking fish!” Jeremy sat up, suddenly furious. “I bet the goldies knew. They must have known. Son of a bitch!”
Sam put his arm around him. “She came to me, too, Jeremy. I didn’t understand, either. But now she’s gone. We need to mourn her,” he used the Voice harder than he knew he could, “and we need to get going. We need to save the children.”
Jeremy stood up and wiped his face with his sleeve. “Yes, we must save the children.”
36
“You guys doin’ OK?” Bud rode up and down the line, seeing how the new riders were handling the long trek, as well as how the newly under-saddle horses were holding up. They’d done the horses as well as they could and set out. All Grace had was a bunch of very high tech English saddles. Bud hated English saddles.
“What if we have to rope something?” he said.
Grace shrugged. “We don’t. These are Russian cavalry saddles. This is how they ride. I agree. Western saddles would have been better. But I didn’t have any say in what went. The general organized this.”
Bud liked her a lot. She was one hell of a rider, though she didn’t know how to do anything with horses. That was how the rich folks were on that boutique ranch outside Dallas where he used to work. Trophy ranch. Trophy horses that won every time they stepped into a show arena. The ranch owners never rode their horses in shows. The staff rode them. The owners never saddled, bridled, shoveled, or did a damn thing but show up for parties. He got a clear image that Grace was used to a staff, and a big one.
The two of them went up and down the line, encouraging the others and keeping the horses together. The trees were too close now to try leading the packhorses. They let them pick their way by themselves, counting on the animals’ herd instincts to keep them going. That and the darkness. Some moonlight filtered through the trees, but it was a hard ride at night.
They had nine riders; all but Grace, Wes, Lena, and Bud were rank beginners. Henry was like the executives who’d been to one of Bud’s seminars. He knew enough to stay on, most likely, but he didn’t know enough to realize his limitations. Lena looked like she’d been a good hand, but now she was a rusty hand. The party consisted of nine riders and that wasp thing that flitted above them like Tinker Bell on meth. Jeremy’s wife, he understood. Wes should look at her. He’d stop complaining about his wife.
They let the extra horses follow along. Grace had said they’d need them for the wounded and sick. Bud was getting a little sick of this reality show bullshit. He didn’t see any of it as real. When they stopped at “the base camp,” he was going to confront Grace on the whole stupid thing. Or maybe he’d do it right now.
“Grace, where are we?” he asked. “These are eastern forest trees, green, close together, and skinny. Back by the cliff, that was California oak savannah. The cliff dwelling is New Mexico. Where are we? Is this just some big set for the show?”
“Bud, I don’t know where we are. We need to have a meeting and bring you and Wes into the picture better. You need to know some things. But we need to keep going. This isn’t what you think.”
He didn’t know what he thought. The quality and amount of firearms on the packhorses and the quantity of medical supplies she’d loaded said this was the most bad-ass reality show ever attempted. Unless it wasn’t that.
“What is this, Grace? Tell me. Am I going to get killed out here?”
He could hear her mind grinding away as she decided what to tell him. “Bud, I’m going to tell you, and then I’m going to let you tell Wesley. I think it will work better that way.
“I don’t think you’ll get killed, especially if you can fight like you and Wesley did on that demo movie about taming the wild horses.”
“That we shot this afternoon?”
“I guess it was this afternoon for you. When you threw the golf cart at each other and were covered with blue lights?”
“They were supposed to deep six that. I told them to put it where the sun don’t shine.”
“They did. Jeremy, my son, the guy with the dreads down to his waist?” Bud nodded. The husband of the stinging death mutant flying above them. “Jer picked up the show’s signal floating in outer space. We have technical abilities that are beyond your time.”
“What do you mean, ‘our time’?”
“I mean your time. We aren’t in your time. You know that, don’t you?”
Bud got the willies right up his back, the way he did when he felt a ghost around. “Not our time?”
“No. We don’t know what time this is. We know that the Second Revolution was in 2097.”
“What?”
“Let me talk; then you can ask questions.” She told him about the Second Russian Revolution and Tsar Yuri’s supposedly getting rid of the atomics. “Before the nuclear holocaust, we had martial law all over the planet, prison camps, and genocide.”
“Are you making this up?”
“Bud, I wish I were.
“Stop right there. I need to take a break …”
“Why don’t you ride up and down the line and check people? I’ll tell you the rest when you come back. Don’t tell Wes.”
“Don’t worry.”
“OK, from what you just told me, it’s about 3,000 years after my time, give or take,” Bud said a few minutes after returning from his circuit. “The reason that there’s no development around here or people is that everything got blown up by a nuclear war. Except you guys. We’re on our way to rescue some more survivors.”
“Yes. The children.”
“I’m going to ride the line again.”
“So where were you when it all blew up?”
She told him about being in the bunker with the general, how the others escaped to the golden planet, Ellie, the whole story.
“How did you get to Connecticut? Take the Trans-Siberia-Atlantic Express?”
“It was through the goldies. The only one who’s from around here is my husband, Sam …”
“You mean Gunnar?”
“He said his name was Gunnar?”
Bud thought, “No, he agreed with Wes, who said his name was Gunnar.”
“His name is Sam. He came from the bomb shelter we’re going to be attacking. Under the lawn of the old estate.”
Bud nodded. Right. Ellie chose that moment to make a high speed pass above their heads. Her multifaceted eyes glowed in the ni
ght. “Yeah, I’d say that she’s an extra-terrestrial. She’s as close to a little green man as I’ve seen.”
“Oh, Bud, you should have seen her before. She was beautiful.”
“She is on our side, isn’t she?” Bud asked.
“I think so. She rounded up the horses for us, and I think she’s responsible for the thunderstorm over the village. The hant who lives there loves her.”
“Hant, like haunt? Now wait a minute, you didn’t say anything about a ghost.” It wasn’t that he and Wes were afraid of ghosts. They just didn’t like to be around them, or dead people, much. And a lot of their People agreed with them.
So she filled him in about the vicious Shaq.
“OK. It’s a dog ghost. I’m going to make another circuit, Grace. We’ll talk more when I get back from checking the horses and riders.”
“OK, Grace. Sam was in the bomb shelter for a few thousand years.”
“His ancestors were. One hundred five generations have lived and died down there, Sam says. We forgot one thing in planning the shelter, Bud.”
“What was that?”
“The people. The villagers who went into the shelter were closely related to start with. They produced mutations. Do you know about them, Bud?”
“Yeah, from horse breeding. Mutations either make things better or worse.”
“Or much, much worse.” He could barely see her face in the dark. “They’re monsters down there, Bud, in every sense.
“That’s why we asked the people of the golden planet to bring you and Wes to help us.
“Will you help us, Bud?”
He could sense how beautiful she was, even in the dark. And hear how much she needed help.
“Grace, I’ve never shot anyone in my life. Neither has Wes. We’re trained to fight, but it was just as an exercise. Grandfather, our shaman, said that the inner state of the warrior was the reward. We’ve never been on any mission. I’ve only been in one fight and that was in high school. Wes’s got more experience on that score. That’s why he’s on probation. He got drunk and mixed it up in a bar in Beverly Hills.
