Even if the Martians had destroyed Shendi, they should still be able to salvage some supplies and weapons, then he could figure out what to do next.
“We stay with our original plan,” said Beatty. “South to Shendi.”
They trekked through the darkness, staying along the river, but not too close. Beatty had no desire for him or any of his men to be dragged off by a crocodile.
When the sun came up, they rested. Beatty set up a watch, with each man, including himself, on duty for an hour. Not only did he have to worry about Martians and crocodiles, but the damn Mahdist rebels they’d originally come to Sudan to fight. He didn’t think an alien invasion would quell their desire to kill any subject of the Crown they came across.
Too many damn things in this desert can kill us. They also did not have much in the way of weaponry to defend themselves against man, beast, or Martian. Beatty and Ellison carried their Webley pistols, though after a thorough soaking in the Nile he doubted whether they’d even fire. Even if they did work, what good would pistols be against those tripods?
What I wouldn’t give for one of those heat rays.
They resumed their march south when the sun grazed the horizon. Beatty estimated they were nine or ten kilometers from Shendi. The absence of smoke or flames in the distance he took as a good sign. Perhaps the town remained intact.
Energized by renewed hope, he picked up his pace, striding up a small rise.
Beatty halted at the top, staring unblinking at the sight before him.
“Something wrong, sir?” asked Ellison.
Beatty didn’t reply. He just kept staring, trying to digest what he saw.
“Sir?” Ellison marched up next to him. “What’s the . . . Good Lord.”
Three fallen tripods lay along the banks of the Nile half a kilometer from the rise.
“What happened to them?” Ellison wondered aloud.
“No idea.” Beatty took a couple of deep breaths, summoning up all his courage. “Let’s go find out.”
Ellison drew his head back. His brow crinkled in an unsure expression. He then stiffened and said, “Yes, sir.”
Webley in hand, Beatty led his men toward the tripods. Had the army in Shendi brought them down? The shadows of dusk prevented him from making out any damage.
He slowed as he neared the first tripod, half expecting it to rise and incinerate him. But the large machine remained still.
Beatty’s heart beat faster as he came within a few meters of the tripod. He never expected to be so close to one and live. Its massive size overwhelmed his senses.
He also noticed something else. The tripod had no holes, no scorch marks, nothing to indicate it had fallen victim to artillery fire.
The group examined the second tripod. It, too, showed no signs of damage.
“Maybe they tripped over their own feet,” quipped Moffat.
They made their way to the third tripod. Beatty tensed, gripping his pistol tighter when he saw a lump lying against the machine’s turret-like top. One of the Egyptians gasped behind him.
Swallowing, Beatty took a cautious step toward it, then another.
The Martian didn’t move.
He bent over running his gaze over the creature. It reminded him of an octopus, about four feet in length, a V-shaped mouth, and two large eyes, now closed. The skin was greenish-brown with gray splotches across its body. Beatty scrunched his face at the rank stench hovering around the alien.
“Hideous looking bugger, isn’t it?” said Ellison.
“How did it die?” asked Moffat. “Doesn’t look like it got shot.”
Beatty stared hard at the Martian, concentrating on the gray splotches. They didn’t appear to be part of its natural skin color. “I think it fell ill.”
“From what?” Moffat took a step closer to the dead Martian.
“I don’t know.” Beatty shook his head.
“I guess the same happened to those two.” Ellison jerked his head toward the other tripods. “You suppose the rest of these monsters got sick, too?”
“Let’s pray that’s the case.” Beatty straightened up.
Ellison looked up and down the tripod. “Well, if these bastards are all off to the great beyond, they won’t be needing these anymore.” He patted the turret. “Imagine what we could do with them.”
Hands on his hips, Beatty gazed at the heat ray and grinned. “I already am.”
War Of The Worlds: Retaliation is available from Amazon here!
Species War: Battlefield Mars Book 3 Page 20
