Ranger

by William Stacey

  Tuatha seethed. It infuriated her that a mage-master as powerful as she was needed to fear anything, even a dragon. "Your advice, old friend?" she asked, eager to change the subject.

  "Let the twins have this. It may prove useless to them, anyhow. The Sundering must have done as much damage to this Fort St. John as it did Eladior Haven. Nothing may remain of Horlastia's army to bring home."

  "Yes," said Tuatha, rising. "Send word to Crown Princess Kaladania. She is to maintain the siege of House Galthazin. Under no condition is she to move any forces to Eladior Haven. Fly the same message to Wolf to make sure."

  "Yes, my queen. A wise decision."

  "No, a bitter one, but necessary. After I've skinned Matron F'elldrassia and her daughters and House Galthazin is nothing more than a memory, I will bring a reckoning to the twins."

  "My queen," Cal Endralia said, bowing her head.

  Tuatha strode from the chamber, Rizleoghin on her heels. She wanted to find sleep once more tonight, hoping that, for once, she might dream of something other than that foul dragon.

  3

  Alex paced the hilltop, watching the eastern sky for the bird. The rain had stopped, and the clouds parted to show a crimson dawn. They had driven here at breakneck speed, taking just over thirty minutes, but in that time, Bekka's breathing had worsened as her lungs filled with fluid. Alex opened and closed his fingers, making tight fists. Come on, Paco. Hurry, brother!

  Mo, standing next to his leg, whined and rubbed the top of his large head against Alex's hand. Alex absentmindedly scratched behind the dog's ears. Mo's brothers, Larry and Curly, were nearby, lying on their bellies and watching the surrounding forest. The three dogs were mongrels, a dark-colored mix of husky, sheepdog, and likely wolf. They were so self-reliant that they were almost wild—like most dogs these days. Yet Mo, the smallest, had bonded with Alex. The animals had adopted the ranger team over a year ago, becoming integral to their patrols. Dark-elf mages could turn invisible, but they couldn't mask their scent.

  The two Oshkosh All-Terrain Vehicles, looking like something out of a Mad Max movie, sat on either side of the hill, facing outward. He and the other rangers had found the vehicles, originally intended as prototypes for the Canadian Army, locked in a warehouse in the now-empty base in Edmonton, along with the motorcycles and more ammo and equipment than they could ever use. Royce sat in the rear of one vehicle, operating its remote turret-mounted 30mm chain gun, while his brother was in the other with the grenade launcher. Both vehicles pulled a trailer, with one holding both SilentHawk motorcycles and the other gasoline, water, and other essential supplies. The vehicles, armored with bullet-resistant glass, were painted in a dark-green camouflage pattern to blend with the northern forests. They were fireproof, air-conditioned, and over-pressured to keep those inside protected from fireballs or lightning bolts. Alex didn't expect to run into any more Remnants, but in this world, you were careful or dead.

  Nearby, Anjie sat beside Bekka, holding an IV bag over the injured woman. They had strapped her to a collapsible stretcher, securing her limbs to stop her from hurting herself, but they needn't have bothered. She was barely moving.

  When Alex heard the far-off thump of rotor blades, he popped a purple smoke grenade and tossed it near the hill's summit. Thank you, God.

  The sound of rotors increased, then, with little warning, a dark-green CH-146 Griffin helicopter appeared over the trees, flying at a dangerously low altitude. The pilot, assigned by McKnight's staff to the airhead at Doig River, knew his business and set the aircraft atop the hill with practiced ease, blowing the purple smoke away in the prop wash. Two men in flight suits and aircrew helmets shoved the side doors open before jumping out, each with a medical bag and an M4 carbine. A woman climbed out next, wearing blue jeans and a plaid shirt. Unlike the men, she carried nothing. Her long brown hair flapped about, obscuring her face, but Alex would have recognized her anywhere. He froze, his throat clenched shut. He didn't know why he was surprised to see her. She was the reason he had called his brother-in-law for the medevac.

  It was just difficult to face his wife after so long.

  After everything between them.

  Leela stared at him, looking tired but healthy. The medics bolted past to tend to Bekka.

  Leela moved closer to Alex, her expression unreadable. "Are you… are you okay?" she yelled over the engine. "Are you hurt?"

  He shook his head. "It's Bekka. She's been burned." He pointed to the stretcher, where the medics were already tending to the injured woman.

  Leela dodged past him to kneel at Bekka's side, her hands gliding over the woman's burned face. Anjie and the two medics moved away, waiting.

  Alex was about to join them when Dallas gripped his arm and pulled him back. When Alex stared in confusion, the other man glanced down at Witch-Bane's hilt, where it sat belted to Alex's waist. He nodded and drew the short sword then handed it to Dallas. In the light of sunrise, its already crimson blade looked drenched in blood.

  He caught up to his wife just as she was standing.

  "That's all I can do now," she yelled. "We need to get her to the infirmary. There's a remote medical setup we can hook her to, and we'll let Dr. Ireland examine her."

  "She gonna make it?" Alex asked. Leela wasn't a gifted healer, and Bekka looked much the same—bad.

  "Maybe. I… I need Cassie's help."

  "We gotta motor," one medic said, glancing at the woods. "Too vulnerable out here."

  "Do what you have to do," Alex yelled, getting out of the way as the medics lifted Bekka and carried her to the helicopter.

  Leela walked alongside Bekka, her hand on the other woman's arm. "You coming?" she asked Alex, studiously avoiding his gaze as the medics secured the stretcher inside the helicopter.

  "Later," Alex said. "We'll catch up. Have to check something first."

  His wife climbed aboard the Griffin, and the side doors slammed shut. Alex stepped back as the aircraft lifted, turned sharply, and sped away toward the Doig River settlement.

  Dallas joined him, handing him his short sword. "You okay, boss?"

  "What? Yeah, fine."

  "You two talk?"

  "Show me the tracking data. I need to see that this wasn't for nothing."

  "Here," said Gracie, stabbing a thick finger at the digital map on the handheld computer pad, showing Alex the location of the dart with which he had shot the hellhound. "Be thankful the satellites are still circling the planet, so we can track GPS."

  The others—Royce, Dallas, Henry, Sammy, and Anjie—stood in a circle about them, trying to look over Alex's shoulder.

  "For now," said Dallas with a frown. "Soon, those things will start falling out of the sky—especially if there's no one interacting with them."

  "Now is what we need," said Alex, tracing the river on the screen with his index finger. "This is the Halfway River, isn't it?"

  "I told you it'd be the Halfway," said Royce, punching his brother in the biceps. "This bend in the river is perfect for a winter camp, as snug as bugs in a rug."

  "‘Bout sixteen klicks northeast of Hudson's Hope," said Dallas. "Frigging hellhounds can haul ass—if that is their camp."

  "It is," Alex said with certainty. "I feel it in my bones."

  Dallas lit a cigarette then blew out a cloud of smoke. "Your bones say anything about those thick woods we're gonna have to sneak through to get there?"

  Anjie took the cigarette from his mouth and inhaled a drag. "We're rangers. Sneaking through woods is what we do."

  "Not as well as elves," said Henry, looking at the others. "We should make sure before we move on 'em. I'm telling you we need UAVs. Hunting dark elves in the forest on foot is insane."

  "Well, hell, Henry," snapped Alex. "That's the job you signed on for, isn't it?"

  "Okay, okay," Dallas said, stepping between them. "How do we play this, boss?"

  "First, we check on Bekka and re-arm. We can figure it out from there. Let's head home and regroup."

&nb
sp; "There's something else, boss. Anjie didn't want to say anything before, but she was already worried about Bekka. I checked her ruck and found these." Dallas held his palm out, showing a small pill case half filled with red-and-green capsules.

  "What are they?"

  "Don't know. Uppers, downers? Not a clue. She's been… distracted lately."

  Alex sighed. How did I miss this? Some leader you are. "Figured she just missed the mage, but maybe there was more to it."

  "Maybe. We're all… well, you know."

  "I know. Let's get going."

  It was just under a hundred-and-fifty-kilometer drive to Doig River. In the old days, they'd have made the trip in two hours, but now, with storm-blown fallen trees and weather-ruptured asphalt, they took four hours along the onetime Alaska Highway before they turned east onto a secondary road and the bend in the Doig River where the settlement sat. The entire way, they saw no one, but that was unsurprising. While the post-Culling north overflowed with birds and wildlife, humanity had all but vanished. There were still people living up here on isolated homesteads, those who had been protected by the Null Zone over the Culling Machine in Fort St. John—before Elizabeth had destroyed it, sacrificing her own life to do so—but these days you really had to make the effort to find them.

  Humanity—blink, and you'll miss it.

  Alex and his team knew where each of the remaining dozen or so homesteads was located. They visited them as often as they could while on patrol. Mostly, they were older couples, those with too much time tied up in the land to resettle in Boulder City or even Doig River. Surprisingly, the settlers were safe enough living alone in the wilderness. Other than the odd hellhound attack, the Remnant forces avoided people. Alex couldn't guess why, but he didn't need to understand them to kill them.

  By the time they reached the settlement, it was already afternoon. Sammy used the radio to call in their arrival, making sure a nervous sentry didn't shoot at them as they drove up. The sentries pulled the steel-shod gates open, and the two ATVs slowed to a crawl. They hadn't been home in three months. Before driving through the gate, Alex stared at the remains of the old settlement beside the riverbank outside the high steel walls. The wilderness had almost completely reclaimed the charred remains of the cabins, but when he saw their old cottage—what was left of it—a weight settled on his heart. Unable to cope, he forced his grief deep within him. He had things to do right now. But he'd visit Noah later.

  4

  Alex left the others at the ranger compound and walked through the settlement, heading for the infirmary, his emotions still surging from seeing Leela again. Mo silently padded alongside him. Alex had left his gear and weapons, especially Witch-Bane, with the vehicles, but he wore a 9mm pistol on his hip. It felt weird without the constant weight of his weapons, as if he were naked, but the sword would interfere with Leela's magic. Besides, he didn't need the firepower behind the corrugated steel walls surrounding the settlement—for better or for worse, this was home.

  Home.

  The burned-out remains of the small cottage that had been his true home flashed in his memory, but he forced his thoughts away, examining his surroundings instead.

  The pain, even months later, was still too fresh.

  He walked past tightly packed rows of trailers, many of which were now empty and dark. Every time he returned, it seemed there were fewer survivors. He spotted construction—a warehouse made from the same galvanized steel as the town wall, sentry towers, a large water tower, and even a two-story community center built from logs. A few children, teenagers mostly, hung out in front of the center. None of them was younger than seven or eight. In fact, Alex hadn't seen a single toddler in the settlement. The sickness was spreading. How long before there're no children at all?

  From across the settlement, he heard the whine of a helicopter's turbine coming from the airhead, but the engine cut out a few moments later. The pilots were likely running checks. There was a dirt runway outside the wall, suitable for small planes, but the survivors only maintained it for emergency flights to Boulder City.

  Up ahead, Alex saw the infirmary, another of the ubiquitous trailers. A black-and-tan German shepherd—an older fellow, well over ten years old—was lying at the base of the steps leading to the infirmary door. Clyde, which means Paco is here. At their approach, Clyde watched Mo, his large scruffy ears standing straight. Mo left Alex, padding over to meet the other dog.

  "Gentle, Mo," Alex said.

  There was no need. The two dogs walked about in a circle, sniffing each other's butts, then, satisfied, Clyde plopped down again, scattering dirt and dust. Mo lay beside him, his head resting atop Clyde's neck. Alex knelt beside them and scratched behind Clyde's ears. "Hey, old fella," he whispered. "Long time no smell."

  Clyde snorted and licked Alex's hand.

  Alex rose and climbed the steps, which creaked under his weight. He raised a fist to rap upon the thin aluminum door but stopped himself, suddenly worried about what he'd say to Leela. It was far too late for "sorry I didn't call." Time to man up.

  He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, entering a combination reception room and office filled with a desk, folding chairs, gleaming metal cabinets, and a massive refrigeration unit stocked to bursting with supplies. No one was present. After months in the wilderness, the strong antiseptic smell of cleaning products hit him like a wall. He closed the door behind him and squirted sanitizer from a station beside the door onto his hands but only smeared the dirt around. He really was filthy.

  A door opened at the rear of the infirmary, and Paco and a young woman in medical scrubs slipped out. Paco, looking older, grayer, and heavier, nodded at Alex, holding a finger up to him. A former tracker and soldier, he had always been a rugged wilderness type, but he had grown into his position as settlement elder and now looked the part, beaming with self-assurance, streaks of silver in his long hair and beard. Clyde isn't the only one getting older, Alex mused. Paco wore blue jeans, a black T-shirt, and a hunting vest. Like Alex, a 9mm pistol sat on his hip. He whispered to the young woman, and she slipped back through the door. As she closed it, Alex glimpsed Bekka lying in bed with a tube in her throat. A camera sat before her on a tripod.

  Paco flashed Alex a grin, came over, and gripped him in a too-tight bear hug. He stepped back, holding Alex at arm's length, and scowled. "Damn, brother, you stink."

  "Smelling like soap gets you killed out there."

  Paco rested his hips against a stainless-steel counter. "Why so long this time? And I hear you've got new blood on the team. Americans?"

  "We were busy. And there's no such thing as Americans or Canadians anymore. Haven't you heard? We're all North American Council now. Brave new world… all that shit."

  Paco snorted, smiling. "McKnight and those white boys down south can kiss my ass. I'm Dane-zaa and always will be."

  "McKnight's not a white boy." He paused, now seeing the lines around his brother-in-law's eyes. The burden of leadership was taking its toll on Paco. "You hanging in there?"

  Paco grunted. "I'm fine. We had to fly the last child to Cassie two days ago. Parents went as well. Soon, there won't be anyone here but old farts like me."

  "Sorry, brother. I knew it was bad, but…"

  "Bad would be an improvement. There's not a child under six left on the reserve." Paco shook his head, a forced chuckle in his throat. "Bad omen for the Beaver people. Looks like the Creator is finally giving us back the land you white devils stole—just before the end of the world."

  "Cassie will sort it out—or Kargin and Ylra. Dwarves just seem to get everything intuitively: biology, biochemistry, electrical and mechanical engineering. And Helena Simmons was always the smartest person in the room, even when there were billions of people on the planet instead of thousands. Trust me. McKnight has a plan for curing the Ghost Sickness."

  "I pray you're right, brother."

  Alex looked past Paco, glancing at the closed door. "Where's Leela?" he asked as nonchalantly as
he could.

  "Sleeping. She's done all she can for Bekka. So has our resident nurse from Boulder City. We've hooked her up to the remote-patient monitoring gear, and Dr. Ireland—you met her? She's from the hospital in Fort St. John."

  "I know her, a lifetime ago. I don't think she likes me."

  "Smart lady. Anyhow, she feels good that Bekka won't go into shock before we can medevac her."

  "Shit—I mean, I'm glad she's going to make it, but I was hoping Leela could… take care of everything here."

  "Leela was never much of a healer. Besides, why does it matter where she's healed? Cassie will have her better than before within twenty seconds of seeing her."

  "No one's ever 'better than before' after almost burning to death, but we're going out again tonight, and I was hoping..."

  "Nuh-uh, brother. Bekka's going straight for Starlight's personal attention as soon as we can arrange a flight." Paco's eyes narrowed. "And what's this shit? You just got back in. Besides, what were you doing all the way over in Hudson's Hope?"

  "Our job."

  "Bullshit. Your job is to patrol the homesteads and sweep for Remnants and wild animals."

  "My job is to keep people safe, which means finding the dark elves—and we did it, brother. Took us forever, but we found them."

  "No shit?" Paco leaned back on his elbows against the counter, his eyes alight with interest. "Where?"

  "Northeast of Hudson's Hope, hidden away in a loop in the Halfway River."

  "Their main camp?"

  "Their last camp. We're guessing three to four hundred boggarts, couple dozen hellhounds, maybe as many trolls, and all the remaining elves. Could be fifty or sixty, including any mages they still have."

  "How do you know this?"

  "Cause I'm good at my job. They've been raiding the abandoned homes along the Peace River and cleaned out Attachie and Farrell Creek a few weeks ago, moving southwest. Hudson's Hope made sense, and we were right. They walked right into our ambush, and we put a tracking dart on a hellhound."