The hikers passed the fallen-down, vine-covered remnants of a ghost town in the midst of second-growth fir trees, an area that was going back to nature naturally, without the intervention of J-Mac crews. With trees and underbrush grown in, they could barely make out the structures at all, just broken, vine-strangled remains of what they had once been. On the other side of town they found an abandoned mine entrance, and a game trail that ran alongside a creek for a ways and then climbed, in the direction that the woodsman wanted to go. On the trail, they stopped while Mantle examined a section of hillside that had slid in the recent past, and had very little plant growth on it.
Ahead of them, the game trail narrowed and continued across a slide area, but if anyone lost their footing there, they would fall onto the dry creek bed hundreds of meters below. He tested the trail, made it to the other side, and proclaimed it safe. Then he motioned for the others to follow.
“Take it slowly,” he said. “One step at a time and you’ll be fine.”
Perhaps twenty people made it across, including the anarchists. Joss and Evana then set out; she was a few steps ahead of him, wearing her boots. Suddenly she lost her footing and slid below the trail, slowing her fall by grabbing hold of a sapling, but it looked as if it would give way at any moment and she would go over the edge.
Then she fell.
With only one chance to save her, Joss quickened his pulse and reached out with his right hand, shooting the black threads of a force field toward her and wrapping them around her. Cradled by the net, she stopped falling, and he brought her back up to the trail, then helped her to the other side, while onlookers cheered.
“I didn’t think we needed to rope up for that,” Willem Mantle said, looking guilty for not taking the proper precautions. He brought out a long rope, which he secured to a small cedar tree on one end of the slide area, and then took back to the other side.
“Watch yourselves where she fell,” he said to the ones who had not yet crossed. “There’s some loose soil there for a couple of meters.”
To play it safe, Joss went partway out and prepared to extend his safety net again, should the need arise. With his help, and the rope, everyone made it across.
After Joss helped the last person (an elderly black woman named Nanette), Evana ran to him and threw her arms around him. The pretty young woman felt warm against his body, with her soft contours pressing against him. She trembled in his arms.
“I was afraid for you,” she said softly, “when you were out there in the middle, helping others across.”
As he looked into her hazel eyes, Joss had a peculiar feeling, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. “Afraid for me? You’re the one who almost fell.”
“I only did that to see if you really cared about me!”
“That wasn’t intentional! You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “I guess I’m not as sure-footed in these shoes as in my bare feet, where I can feel the ground and rocks better. If we have to cross anything like that again, I’m doing it barefoot.”
Joss had felt a sense of panic when she was falling off the trail, in the terrible moments when he thought he would lose her. This told him something important, that he cared deeply for her, and perhaps even loved her. He pulled her toward him and held her tightly. For the first time in years, since losing Onaka Hito in his youth, he believed love might be possible again.
Over Evana’s shoulder, Joss saw Kupi looking on dejectedly. He pulled free and went to her.
“Kupi,” he said to her, “please don’t make me feel guilty for my feelings.”
“I don’t deserve you anyway,” she said, her face a mask of sorrow and regret. “You deserve better.”
He shook his head in disagreement while the others waited, looking on but not intruding.
“Go to her,” Kupi said. Then with a reassuring smile, she added, “Don’t worry about me. I’m resilient. I’ll find somebody.” She looked over at Mord Pelley, added, “Maybe him. He’s old, but he’s been making eyes at me.”
Joss stepped back from his former lover and went to Evana, shaking his head sadly.
“How do you feel about me?” the young woman asked, her voice little more than a whisper in his ear.
He smiled softly. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”
* * *
JUST BEFORE DARK, the villagers and anarchists reached a broad expanse of grassy, sparsely treed land alongside a wide river. “A hundred years ago, a town stood on this site,” Willem Mantle said, “so it seems fitting for us to make a go of it here. I have fished this river many times for Chinook salmon, steelhead, and kokanee. We’ll always have fresh seafood for our table.”
“Or for a wedding feast,” Joss said. He put an arm around Evana’s waist and drew her to him.
She didn’t resist. Looking up at him she said, “Are you asking me? I thought you didn’t like to rush into anything. Aren’t you the one who doesn’t believe in love at first sight?”
“I’ve known you for four days now,” he said. “Out here, with the experiences we’ve shared, that’s long enough for me. Besides, we don’t know how long we have together; we’re fugitives from justice.”
“Fugitives from justice?” Mord Pelley said, overhearing their conversation. “On the contrary, we brought justice with us!”
“And found love,” Evana said, beaming prettily at Joss.
Pelley put his hands on his hips and studied his adoptive daughter, as if searching for any doubt on her part. Apparently seeing none, he said, “A wedding it will be, then, and I shall perform the ceremony!”
Kupi moved to the white-haired old man’s side, smiled ruefully in Joss’s direction.
“But how will we accomplish it out here?” the elderly black woman asked. Joss thought Nanette had an interesting face, careworn and creased with the wisdom of years and experiences.
The tribal leader smiled and looked up at the sky. “Why, we will visualize it all, of course, with help from the Lord. And for music, we shall have the voices of angels. I already hear them singing for us, heavenly notes wafting on the wind.”
“Yes, I can hear the angels, too!” a man shouted.
“So do I!” a woman said. And others piped in: “I hear them, too!” … “I hear the angels!”
Joss imagined hearing the angelic sounds himself, and he could tell from Evana’s serene, happy expression that she was imagining this as well.
“Now visualize this,” Pelley said. “The bride and groom are dressed entirely in white, with flower leis around their necks, and after they exchange vows we’ll drink wine until the wee hours of the night.”
Looking over at Kupi, Joss caught his former lover’s gaze. As she stood by Mord Pelley, tears welled in her eyes, but she smiled courageously, letting him know everything would be all right. He nodded to her in appreciation, felt a little better about the situation. His feelings were bittersweet. He really did not want to hurt Kupi, not after they had been through so much together. He would talk with her again and try to forge a continuing friendship with her, a way for them to go forward.
Around them, tribal members were still visualizing the gala wedding festivities. The air really was filled with laughter and happy voices, another form of music, Joss thought. He kissed Evana for the first time, and it was sweeter on his lips than any wine.
“In all seriousness,” Pelley said, “Evana and Joss will have the wedding they deserve as soon as we get settled here and have time to set it all up.”
People moved in to congratulate the couple on their engagement, and even Kupi joined in, seeming to accept what was happening. She and Mord Pelley chatted, while Joss and Evana speculated on when the wedding might take place, from a few days to a few weeks.
As Joss looked at the young woman and saw the depth and freshness of the love they shared, the lack of a formal ceremony mattered less to him than this very special moment. In his heart, it was as if they were already married.
* * *
> JOSS HAD NOT expected to find the woman he loved in such a remote region, under these circumstances. Yet the connection of their souls had occurred quickly and unexpectedly, and Joss could not deny it.
Evana seemed to have recognized the special nature of their relationship before he did, or at least she had been more willing to admit it. Somewhat belatedly he had accepted that they were meant for each other too, and now he wanted to treasure every moment they had together. Neither of them could be certain how long they would have.
That night, they lay together in a sleeping foil on the perimeter of the camp area, but did not make love. Joss wanted to, but had the sense that it was more honorable to wait until they got to know each other better, beyond the obvious emotional and physical attraction they shared. He’d already had physical relationships with Kupi and with other women before her, and he wanted more than that. A great deal more. To honor this once-in-a-lifetime relationship, there should be an actual wedding.
For a while they giggled and tickled each other in the warmth of the foil, peering through night-vision goggles and making funny faces in the weird illumination. When she realized he wasn’t going to attempt anything more, he saw disappointment on her face.
They removed their goggles, and snuggled in the darkness. “We have the rest of our lives together,” she said, kissing him gently. Evana barely laid her head down on his rolled-up jacket when she fell asleep. It had been a long day.
Joss tucked the foil around her to keep away the chill of night. Through an opening on the side of the shelter he saw that it was a clear, starlit evening. He heard an owl hooting not far away, and the urgent song of a night bird. For the better part of an hour he lay beside Evana, wondering if he could keep her safe.
He had no higher priority now.
47
Some of the details about the end of the world will not matter. In the mindless waves of destruction there will be no records or memories left. The calamity will take place with startling speed and violence. Survival? Given the circumstances, that is an incomprehensible concept.
—entry in Artie’s data banks
IT WAS MIDAFTERNOON of the following day at the settlement, sunny but cold. Joss sat alone on the riverbank, watching Will Mantle as he taught Acky Sommers and other men how to fish from the shore, using stick poles and drop lines. They were on a rocky point that jutted out into the slow-moving water, practicing techniques for a more serious fishing session that would take place the next morning.
A few minutes ago, Joss had been with Evana, but she had gone back to the settlement for tea. Glancing back, he saw her with some of the tribe at a communal eating area that had been set up on the far side of the grassy land where Mantle said the main part of the old town once stood, before a forest fire wiped out the wood-frame houses, even destroying their foundations, because they were made of cedar logs. Very few signs of the town remained, a few artifacts here and there—twisted chunks of metal, a stone wall section, and part of a river-rock chimney. Mantle had heard that the people reached safety, but they’d decided to rebuild elsewhere.
Sitting with Mord and Kupi near the base of a large cedar tree, Evana wore her dark blue parka, which was filled with the soft down of duck feathers. For this trek, the tribe and the anarchists had rounded up the lightest clothing they could find. Only a few people wore heavier garments, and two of the bigger men wore bearskin jackets, from hunting in the woods.
She waved to him, and he did the same in return. He liked this riverside location, hoped it would be a good place for them to settle. Willem Mantle certainly thought it would be, and it did look promising.
Casually, Joss watched small black-and-white ducks skimming along the river, periodically diving underwater for fish and then resurfacing.
On impulse, he pointed a forefinger at the ground by his feet. A slender green thread darted from his fingertip, made a little flash on the ground, and left a small flower there. Just a tiny purple wildflower that no one would even notice.
Before he had a chance to absorb the new ability, an alarm sounded, a pulsing siren. Leaping to his feet, Joss saw villagers running in all directions on the grassy area where they had set up camp. In the confusion he could no longer see Evana.
He hurried toward the last place he’d seen her, by the cedar, but she was no longer there. Had she gone back to the riverbank looking for him? Frantically, his heart racing, Joss ran back the other way. He heard loud noises in the woods, trampling underbrush and breaking branches, getting louder and closer. Still no sign of Evana, but he found Mord Pelley organizing the anarchists and other armed defenders, ordering them into positions with their weapons. Kupi was with them, loading an energy clip into an automatic rifle.
As the defenders were running to their positions, Joss saw police robots burst from the nearest stand of trees, their metal bodies shiny green, their eyes glowing bright silver. Extending weapons built into their arms, they fired into the crowd, causing panic and screaming. To his horror, Joss saw people fall, bleeding and seriously wounded. How had the robots found this place? Wasn’t the electronic security system supposed to veil everyone?
“The damned machines followed our scents!” someone shouted. “They can’t see us but they followed our scents!”
Scents? Joss took a deep breath, felt his pulse surge.
Black threads emerged from his body, spun in the air, and stretched a fine mesh around him, then extended out and over as many people as possible—maybe twenty or twenty-five. He didn’t have time to count, but tried to protect as many of the living as he could and especially the four children—the boys and the pre-teen girls. He stretched the shield as much as he could with his willpower, and hoped this did not weaken the protection. The force field, while black, occasionally flashed little spots of color around the edges—blues, reds, greens, and yellows.
Mostly he worried about Evana, didn’t want to think of any harm coming to her. Where was she? Joss cursed under his breath, focused all of his energy on trying to protect as many people as he could to start with, which seemed more important than using his Splitter power as a weapon. He wasn’t sure if he could do both at once. Was the stretched mesh of the force field strong enough? He hoped so.
The villagers inside the protected area huddled together and spoke in low, awed tones. They reached out to touch the mesh but were unable to penetrate it, or even flex it. In the days that Joss had been with them, they had heard of strange things he’d done previously, but he had steadfastly refused to show them anything, except during the emergency on the trail. He saw Willem Mantle in their midst, talking to them, trying to keep people calm.
Peering through the mesh, Joss saw more robots emerging from the woods, firing weapons in a cacophony of noise and bright flashes of light. Now the armed villagers and anarchists were firing back, hitting robots, dropping them, sending them careening away. But more kept coming, firing relentlessly.
The robots followed scents? Could that be correct? If so, Joss wished he’d been told about the possibility before, because he might have split and greenformed behind them on the trek to this place, sweeping away all evidence of where they’d walked. Now it was too late for that.
Some of the robotic shots bounced off his force field. It sickened him to see people lying in macabre death poses outside his safety net, including five women of the tribe, all dead from grievous wounds. No sign of Evana. Where was she?
* * *
AIDED BY AN infusion of money and resources, including thousands of additional soldiers, Dylan Bane was ready to launch a series of guerrilla attacks against the Green States of America, hitting one enemy military installation after another. Adding to the voleers that had survived the earthquakes several weeks ago, he’d rushed the production of more vessels, so that he had twenty-seven in all at his North Canadian base, a facility that brimmed with military equipment, as well as thirty-five thousand soldiers and fourteen hundred robotic fighters. He planned to dispatch them against five initial targets
—Seattle, Berkeley, Baltimore, Panama City, and Rio de Janeiro—and more afterward, coming out of nowhere and then vanishing.
His force, while not nearly what he’d amassed before the earthquakes, would have to be enough. He needed to strike before the enemy found a way to thwart him by moving military resources, or before they developed their own vanishing tunnel technology. With good fortune he hoped to destroy forty percent of the key military installations in the Green States of America in less than a day. The voleers would surface and disgorge military vehicles and aircraft that were fitted with powerful Splitter cannons, and they would inflict a lot of damage.
In the aftermath, Bane and his allies would assume power over North and South America. While preparing for that, he had learned a great deal from the SciOs about the layers of authority in the GSA government, the unseen networks, the hidden currents of power and influence. In his new ruling structure over the fallen GSA, he would monopolize certain secret and essential technologies, forming the underpinnings of his authority. He had worked out the details with Grange Arthur, the Eurikan prime minister—Dylan Bane’s secret overseas ally, who would send in military forces and share power with him. He had other sources of support as well, but the Eurikans were by far the most significant.
Back when most of Bane’s forces were destroyed in the second earthquake, he’d sent an emergency message to the Eurikans for the funding and resources he needed to rebuild. They’d cooperated but only grudgingly, criticizing him for putting all of his eggs in one basket at the Michoacán base, for not keeping his forces dispersed. Bane had taken the comments and lied to them in response, saying he agreed. Then he worked feverishly to set up another large base, but this time he selected the location with even more care than before, making certain it did not have geologic uncertainties.
Now Bane needed to move quickly to drastically reduce the military capability of the Greenies and confuse them. Devastated, demoralized, and unable to find any targets to shoot at, they would surely give up.…
The Little Green Book of Chairman Rahma Page 32
