Jehu and the dealer were exchanging receipts. I stooped to examine the axles of the trailer and called Jehu over. “That bearing ain’t goin’ to last until we get her back to the Cove.” He squatted down beside me. “Mister Gavin—it’s always been like that. No call to get clutched up.”
“It’s not the axle,” I growled. “It’s those damned townies. I stopped for a drink in that bar across the square and the talk was turning ugly. As they get smashed they’ll start pushing each other to start something. We should fade right now. And with this thing trailing astern we won’t be able to move fast or back up.”
He saw my expression and nodded. “Mister Goodson,” he called, “I’m going to leave our trailer here. Ask Joe Clarke to come over tomorrow and fix the axle, will you?”
“Sure, Jehu! Sure!” The dealer was too nervous looking at the louts to look at the axle. The Sergeant had chased them off, but they had seen him driving out of town and were now returning to bait us. “Have a good trip home. Better wait a week or two before you come up again. Maybe I’ll be able to persuade one of my drivers to bring your trailer down to you.” And he scurried off toward his office.
I helped Jehu unhitch the trailer and swung into the cab as he jumped into the back of the Brinks. Barbara had the motor running and was behind the wheel. Some of the louts had brought their old autos to the square and were waiting outside the entrance of the truck-park. The truckers were still talking about women. Their only interest in law and order was maintaining it inside the trucking center.
“There’s trouble!” I muttered to Barbara.
“You call that trouble?” She gunned the motor and spoke over her shoulder to Midge and Jehu. “Close up and strap down. Heavy weather ahead!” Then she sent the Brinks rolling toward the exit.
A rock bounced off the armored windshield and a car swung across the road to block our way out. “You want me to radio the Sergeant?” asked Midge from the back.
“No need to bother the Sergeant.” Barbara had the arrogant self-confidence of youth. “We can handle these dead-necks.” She headed the Brinks at the car blocking the exit. “Maybe have a little fun ourselves!”
More rocks bounced off the cab. The driver of the car yelled, “Whatcha’ going to do now, little girl?”
“Flatten that heap of yours!” muttered the litde girl, keeping the Brinks rolling.
The driver suddenly realized that the Brinks was about to ram, and tried to shoot ahead. He stalled the motor and his acned face showed stark terror as the armored car loomed above him. Then he threw open the door and went tumbling out into the roadway, scrambling for safety.
Barbara braked the Brinks with its front bumper resting against the car door. Sam picked up the bullhorn and roared, “Get that crate outta the way or we’ll roll it over. You’ve got thirty seconds!”
The driver clambered back in, started his motor at the second attempt, and skidded away up the street. Barbara accelerated through the exit and sent the Brinks charging along Main.
Sam swung the periscope. “They’re following.” He didn’t seem worried.
I was! Behind us were more than six cars, packed with hoodlums, trailing us along Main, with the leaders attempting to slip past, careless of other traffic. They might—“Hey! You’re dead-ending!” I shouted as Barbara swung off Main and down a narrow road which finished in what looked like a junk yard.
“Just having our bit of fun!” she yelled, as the Brinks crashed from pothole to pothole.
“Fun?” Ahead was a wooden fence and an overgrown lot filled with the rusting remains of generations of pre-veralloy autos. I looked astern. A string of cars had turned off Main after us, the leader only a meter from our tail. I eased out my Luger.
“No need for that!” yelled Sam. “Not yet!”
“Hang on, all!” shouted Barbara and hit the brakes.
An instant later the lead car hit us. The Brinks gave a ponderous lurch. From astern came a cadence of tinkling glass and screeching metal. The lead car was concertinaed between us and the car behind it. The lane was clogged with rear-end collisions.
“Got ’em!” shouted Sam.
“How many?” asked Barbara.
“Six—no—eight!”
“Right on!” She headed the Brinks at the wooden fence. It went down as we hit and she took us swerving among the wrecks. The yells and curses behind us faded as she went through another fence on the far side of the junk yard and then out onto a lane. “That’ll teach the cabron to leave us alone!”
“You young idiots!” I raged. “The Settlement’s unpopular enough already. Are you trying to make things worse?”
“We couldn’t,” said Barbara as we reached the highway. Then, as she turned onto the dirt road leading to the Cove, she added, “We’re already as unpopular as we can get. All we can do now is to show those nerds that it’s expensive to tangle with us.”
We started winding through the woods. The setting sun was hidden by the trees so that on the road it was already dusk, but the farther we got from Standish the less the tension in the cab. Barbara paid me one of her rare compliments. “It was smart of you to fake the axle of the trailer, Mister Gavin. I couldn’t have pulled off that rear-end caper if we’d been dragging it behind.”
“You’d have thought of something equally infuriating!” I stared out of the window at the woods jolting past “The talk I heard in Standish was bad!”
“This is my last trip to town!” said Sam. “At least, it’s my last trip looking like I’m from the Settlement.” His grin hinted that trips by youngsters to town while not looking like Believers were common.
“If Goodson wants our lobsters he can come and fetch ’em,” said Jehu from the rear. “He was talking about renting an amphibian to air-freight ’em direct to Boston. He won’t like it. It’ll cut into his profits. But from now on the only trading I’ll do is on the wharf or aboard Ranula."
I twisted round to speak through the hatch. “Goodson! That unctuous little bastard’s making an enormous profit You sell lobsters to him at twenty bucks a kilo. In the Boston market they wholesale for eighty!”
“Eighty and more,” said Jehu, nodding.
“So why don’t you demand a fair price?”
“If it was up to me, I would. But the Council say we’re earning more than we need right now. They let the dealers make a big profit to keep them friendly.”
“You’re paying protection?”
“That’s how Chuck Yackle and most of the Council see it They call it insurance against the future.” He spat on the floor of the Brinks. “Not much of an insurance, not to my mind.”
I agreed. “Once you have paid them the Dane-geld, you never get rid of the Dane.” We rode without talking for some time, conversation was an effort in the Brinks. When the road dipped down into a cutting and we passed the entrance to an old lodging trail, I remarked, “I thought the locals never came as far as this to cut lumber?”
“They don’t,” said Sam. “Why?”
“There’s a bulldozer hidden back among those trees.”
My words acted like an alarm blast. Barbara hit the brakes without warning. We skidded round a bend and stopped a few meters short of a heavy truck parked slantwise across the road. The next instant she was in reverse. Then she braked again as the bulldozer lumbered out onto the road, lurching toward us.
“Christ! A hijack!” We were in a cutting with the truck ahead, the bulldozer astern, and steep banks on each side. “Close up!” She grabbed a lever, dropping the armored shields over the windows. “Sam—can I shove that bastard astern into the ditch?”
“You can try. No—hold it! He’s broadside on and the driver’s bolted. Won’t help any to roll it over. Nor that truck ahead neither.” Sam took his deer rifle from the roof rack, and began loading the magazine.
“Keep that thing out of sight!” snapped Barbara, then called through the hatch. “Midge—get on the blower and call Kitty. Tell her we’ve been bushwacked at fifteenth click. Then call Se
rgeant Carver and ask him to come and get these thugs to move out of our way.” She switched off the motor.
Jehu said nothing. I checked my Luger, then asked, “What are you proposing to do—whichever of you’s in charge around here?”
“Orders are to sit and wait,” said Jehu as though he was. He put his face to the hatch. “This truck’s got veralloy armor, so nobody can get in. We just stay closed up. The plan is that they’ll get tired eventually and go away.”
“That’s what happened last time,” said Sam.
So there had been a last time! Nobody’d mentioned a “last time” when they’d invited me to come this time. I suppressed my fury and spoke in a cold voice, slowly and clearly, making sure my message got through. “I don’t know who told you that nobody can cut through veralloy armor. Whoever it was, they’re wrong! A fluorine torch will cut through any armor, even sintered veralloy. And this armor isn’t sintered. It’s plain plate!”
“Bandits don’t have fluorine torches,” said Jehu, producing a pump-action shotgun. “And if they come too close Chuck Vackle says I can tingle them with this. He thinks I’m loaded with sparrow-hail.” From his grin I gathered he was probably loaded with buckshot.
“Maybe I could bounce a round or two off that truck’s cab?” suggested Sam hopefully.
“No shooting!” said Jehu in a loud voice. Then, more softly, he added, “Not unless we has to.”
I peered through the periscope. A group of shadowy figures were crouching behind the cover of the truck. A bullhorn roared, “Open up and get out! All of you!”
“Don’t answer them!” snapped Barbara, as if she were now in charge. She produced a high-velocity .22 from under her scat. This crew had been expecting trouble. That’s why they had asked me along. But they hadn’t made it clear how much trouble they expected.
“Open up or we’ll spray you with gasoline and burn you out!” roared the bullhorn.
“Let ’em try!” murmured Barbara. “This thing’s guaranteed safe against a brew-up. With luck they’ll set fire to themselves. Midge, anything on the radio?”
“Kitty’s sent somebody to fetch Chairman Yackle. I can’t raise the cops.”
“With the Sergeant off in Augusta those blues won’t answer,” said Sam.
There was silence outside. I swung the periscope, trying to see what our hijackers were doing.
“Chuck Yacicle’s on the blower,” said Midge, and the next moment the voice of the Chairman came from the loudspeaker.
“Jehu, are you there?”
“That is just where I am, Chuck. Blocked in at the fifteen-kilometer post. Down in the cutting. Truck ahead. Bulldozer astern. Can’t move more’n five meters either way.”
“And you can’t take to the woods?”
“Not unless you ship us a pair of wings!”
“You’ve called the police?”
“We’re still calling. And they’re still not answering. The Sergeant’s in Augusta, and we ain’t got no other friends among the azuls.”
Silence, as Yackle digested all this. Then he asked, “What do the people who’ve stopped you want?”
“Dunno. They’ve just been yellin’ at us to come out.”
“Don’t do that!” Yackle’s rising tone reflected his rising alarm.
“Like you say, Chuck—we won’t! You sending a posse to rescue us?”
“Well—i wm jf have to. But we don’t want a confrontation.”
“What the hell does he think we’ve got now?” muttered Barbara.
“The fleet’s out so there aren’t enough men with guns for a posse,” murmured Sam.
“Not enough men with guts!” snapped Barbara, easing the spring on her .22.
“Any suggestions for us, while you’re getting a posse to- j gether?” asked Jehu.
“Try to come to some arrangement. Offer them half the j gold to let you pass.”
Jehu choked. “Offer these bastards half our earnings?”
“All of it, if you have to. Better to lose gold than to lose life. Who’s with you?”
“Barbara Bernard—she’s driving.”
“That young hothead! Don’t let her do anything rash! Who else?”
“Sam Summers.”
“He’s as thoughtless as the Bernard girl!”
“And Midge—she’s working the radio.”
“Jehu—you went up into Standish with only three juniors?”
“Mister Gavin’s here. I asked him to come along.”
“Gavin? Don’t let him start trouble.”
“Chuck—the trouble’s already started. And we didn’t start it. We’re sitting here in a cutting, can’t move either way, and bandits all around us.”
“Stay in the truck. I’m calling a meeting of Council.”
“Call the State Troopers too. They might come.”
“We don’t want to involve the State Police if we can help it, Jehu. You know that. Remember—you’re quite safe if you stay in the truck.”
“If you say so, Brother Yackle. Is Enoch there?”
“He’s fishing off Gull Rock. I don’t want to radio him y He’ll only worry about his daughter. Jehu, just stay calm.”
“We’re calm. Not so sure about you! Over and out.” Jehu put down the microphone and spoke through the hatch. “You heard! We can’t expect no help for hours. Not until Enoch gets in anyway.”
“We may not have hours,” I said.
“How do you mean?”
“Three men just slipped out of the ditch and they’re underneath us now. No good trying to run over ’em, Barbara!” I said, as she reached to start the motor. “They’ll be well clear of the wheels and you’ve got no room to swing.”
“What are they doing under the Brinks?” asked Sam.
“My guess is that they’re about to cut up through the foor with a fluorine torch.”
Jehu stiffened and cursed. “Fluorine torch? And they said the bandits didn’t have such things! No way we can get at ’em down there. Not from here!” He started for the door, shotgun in hand.
“Hold it, Jehu!” I shouted. “They’ll zap you as soon as you poke your head outside!”
He turned to glare at me, saw the truth in my warning, and sat down on the floor. Then he looked at me “Mister Gavin, you’re a fighting man. I knowed you were when I asked you to come along. What should we do?”
“Try offering them the gold,” I suggested.
“It’s not just the gold they’re after,” said Barbara in a low voice, and in it I heard a trace of fear. “It’s Midge and me they’ll want as well!”
The situation was a microcosm of the eternal charade. Civilians get themselves into desperate situations by not listening to the military. Then shuck their responsibilities onto the soldiers and demand the soldiers get them out of it. And the hell of it is that the soldiers are never in a position to refuse the civilians’ request.
And, of course, the obverse is true. Soldiers get themselves into the shit, and then shout for civilians to pull them out, We are all members, one of another. Et cetera, et cetera. I attempted to think like neither a soldier nor a civilian, but like an intelligent gunman trying to save his own neck arid, hopefully, the necks of those with him.
“They’ve got a torch going,” said Midge quietly “I can feel a hot spot on the deck.”
“Relax, Midge,” I said to reassure her, although she seemed the calmest of the lot of us. “Keep calling the cops.
It’ll take ’em half an hour to get through.” If they knew how to use the fluoride they could be into us in ten minutes. I could only hope they were not experts. “We’ve got to flush ’em out from under.” I studied as much as I could see of our surroundings through the periscope and view-slits. “Sam, do you remember if there’s underbrush along the crest of that bank?”
“Thick bushes all the way.”
“Then here’s what we do. I’ll go out the side door and into the ditch. They’ll see me and start shooting. I’ll move along the ditch, and zap those three und
erneath us. While they’re trying to nail me, you go up that bank. It’s almost dark, and they’ll be too shaken by a Believer shooting back to notice you. You hunt deer, so you know how to move quietly at night, don’t you Sam?”
“Sure do, Mister Gavin!”
“When you reach cover at the top of the bank, hide there. And pick your targets.”
“Then I start shooting?”
“God, no! Keep hidden but ready to shoot I’ll be crawling along the ditch, letting go the odd round to hold their interest. When I’m in position to make a dash for that truck I’ll call you on the com. Then I’ll wait for your shot—you’ll be giving me covering fire.”
“Got it, Mister Gavin!” He repeated his orders, almost like a trained Trooper. The boy had potential.
I called back through the hatch to Jehu. “Hear that? When I make my run you open up too. That buckshot spreads, so aim at anything except me. Midge—you stay on the radio.” “Gav—don’t! You’ll get killed!” Barbara’s hand was on my arm.
She had never before called me anything but “Mister Gavin.” She had never spoken to me with such agonized concern. And never before had I seen her gray eyes glisten.
“I’ll be okay, Barb!” I squeezed her hand. “This is my specialty.” I suddenly realized how much I cared for these four people. Whatever happened to me I must get them out of this mess alive. Barbara must never be taken by the pack around us. I kissed her. “Start the motor! When I get that truck rolling, you roll right behind. I’ll drive for a couple of clicks, then ditch it to let you pass. And you keep going. Don’t stop for Sam or me!”
“I’m not going to leave—”
“You’ll do as you’re damn well told! We can look after ourselves, can’t we Sam?”
“Sure can! Barb—do like Mister Gavin says. If those ca-bron come into the woods, maybe I’ll get myself a brace of ’em!’.’ His laugh was too much like mine had once been. But, hell, I hadn’t any choice! If they got into the Brinks we’d be dead and they’d have both the gold and the girls.
Edward Llewellyn - [Douglas Convolution 03] Page 20
