by A. S. Hames
The last of the outpost’s defender’s words come back to me.
“What the hell are you…?”
What the hell are we… doing?
Up ahead, there are two old men in grease-stained overalls. Mechanics, maybe. What do they see coming at them?
“Kill the baby-killers!” yells a voice to my right.
A whole roar goes up.
Krak! Krak! Krak!
Gunfire. Screaming. Chaos. Death.
I pass the fallen workhands who have served their community for maybe half a century until the point that a horde shot them down. Like it or not, I am swept into the town on a wave of violence. Some of ours are shooting into Main Street stores. Others are branching off left and right to fire into workshops and houses. Up ahead, people are stopping to look, and their faces are turning from curiosity to horror, and they’re fleeing for their flimsy lives.
I don’t know what to do, so I veer left pulling Von with me. Some follow me. Others roar past, blasting away at anything and everything. I see a flash of blue clothing dive behind a back yard tool shed and a blaze of gunfire from alongside me goes after it. A old man’s scrambling feet propel him up a fence and gunfire brings him down again into a wasted heap. The shooting goes on and on and on and there is nothing coming back at us in return.
“Come on!” It’s the child-sergeant sucking us back onto Main Street and into the body of the attack. And I’m with Von heading toward what? A home? A store? A school? I will not fire. I will not. And not just because my gun might explode.
“Give me the wolf, sub,” the child-sergeant says. I work him out instantly. He wants to be filmed at the heart of the victory. The idiot. But I give him Von’s leash. I might outrank him, but I don’t have his passion for this.
A girl of fifteen or sixteen grabs my arm.
“There’s someone in that house,” she says and I’m with her, up a pretty little front lawn, lost in the hurly-burly of No Rules and No Limits. And she’s firing at the big picture window. And the glass goes in and there’s screaming from inside and I follow her in through the broken window and we’re inside a lounge and there’s noise on the stairs and we’re into the hall and up those stairs and we burst into the back bedroom and there’s a whole family in there with little children and the girl I’m with is raising her gun and she shoots and I push her and I push and I push and she goes crashing through the window and we’re falling…
…and awwf… ohh…
…we’re on the grass and she’s winded and injured and her eyes are confused and I don’t know what to do. I DON’T KNOW and help me God because I’m scared and krak-krak – the girl’s chest is punched through and turning red and her eyes are rolling back and I’m away. I’m running and there are No Rules and No Limits. Someone from that bedroom has fired down on my fellow soldier and I don’t want to know. I don’t care. I want out. I want out!
And I’m back on Main Street and I’m terrified and I’m sweating and I feel so, so, sick and I see down the side of the house opposite, and Tallboy and Bone Boy are grabbing a screaming woman and she’s maybe about twenty-five and I don’t want to know so I head up Main Street and there’s a voice. Above all the chaos, a single, loud, clear voice.
“Tam-Dee Nine-Two! Come out with your hands raised.”
And it’s like the world has been picked up and shaken and has yet to settle down again, but when it does, nothing will be the same. I am lost and all I can do is go to where the voice is calling.
“Tam-Dee Nine-Two! Come out with your hands raised or the whole of this town will be put to death. On yours hands will be the blood, Mr Nine-Two.”
I pass two volunteers coming out of a grocery store counting the coins they’ve stolen. There’s a look in their eyes that tells me they’ve seen death these past few moments… and in my mind’s eye I see a bullet. It’s going into… I stop the thought. I will not think about that. But the bullet is there, in the air, moving toward… no! I push the girl with the gun. I push and we fall…
And I am walking up Main Street and I am falling toward the grass. The air on my skin is both still and rushing by. My feet are on firm gritty ground and they are in the air. I am walking and I am falling.
No. I am only walking. Only this. We hit the grass. I can smell it now. I didn’t then, but I do now. How is that possible? No, it is not possible because I am walking on Main Street.
Krak! Krak!
I wince. I duck. But there is no gunfire. I am still walking. But even so, I can see it. I can see the girl trooper’s chest is shot through. Dark red blood is pumping out. It tells me that hers is a healthy heart, to be able to pump so efficiently. A healthy organ, yes. A good heart. The dark red spoils the moss-green tunic. But I am walking far from the house of death because there’s nothing to be done. Nothing that can ever be done. With little patches of cheery blue appearing between the clouds above all our heads, I walk up Main Street toward the voice and try to shut out everything else.
“Tam-Dee, come out!”
I reach a crossroads where a three-level town hall stands on the north-eastern corner. Dozens of the Prospect-Inspiration Group are gathered on the western approach along with their own film team. I try to understand what is happening. Colonel Five-Five is the one yelling at the town hall. Ax is alongside him with Lieutenant Three-Two and a couple of Prospect-Inspiration officers. One a captain, the other a major.
And there’s a poster on the town hall door that makes no sense.
ELECTION
Vote CRAWFORD
for MAYOR
What does Election mean? Or Crawford or Mayor?
“Nine-Two, come out!” Colonel Five-Five calls.
Is it ever okay to leave a fellow soldier dying on the grass?
“Nine-Two, come out!”
It was the man. Yes, the man. The father. He shot her. And I have a question that is challenging my understanding of the Law. Is defending your family a Crime against the Nation? Can defending your family ever be any kind of crime at all? There’s a fellow soldier dead and I must report it and pick out the guilty party. Only I know I won’t.
I try to fix my location in the here and now. I see the child-sergeant with Von, who looks like a horse beside the junior whirlwind. I don’t have to search my feelings too deep to find that I despise and admire this boy in equal measure.
And I’m in that bedroom. And I see the bullet. I see it in my mind. I see where it’s going. No! I stop it. I damn well stop it because it’s wrong. But I can’t stop it. I can only hold it in mid-air if I concentrate, because when I stop concentrating, it moves again toward its target.
The child-sergeant hands me Von. If I were to open my mouth I’d swear at him.
BEN
The colonel calls out once again. “Tam-Dee Nine-Two, if you do not come out, I will come in with troops and we will be firing our weapons at anyone in there with you. We will not stop until you are all dead.”
I can see Jay. She looks shaken up by all this. She’s not the only one. I go across to be at her side, but I don’t say anything. I just want her to know that, in all this madness, she has a friend.
“Agent Two-Three-Three reporting,” says a man hurrying along the street toward us. “He’s not inside. He left on foot as you came in.”
I’m guessing Agent Two-Three-Three is a spy. A soldier would have tried to stop this Tam-Dee Nine-Two.
“He headed east with his clerk,” the spy says. “There’s a hidden trail off the main road and some abandoned ranches farther out.”
Dub’s at Jay’s side nudging her, which I can see she doesn’t like.
“What do you reckon?” he says.
I search his face for signs of any misdeeds he may have carried out.
“I don’t know what to reckon,” Jay says.
“Let’s leave the talking for later, Dub,” I tell him,
“You kill anyone?” he asks me.
“Listen up,” the captain says. “All army personnel not detailed to remain
here, go with Sergeant Eight-Six. You’ll be based at the Endeavor Hotel down the road there.”
I gladly turn toward the sergeant and the promise of somewhere to hide away for a while. I’ll also make sure Dub doesn’t get in Jay’s face again. She’s suffered enough. But the captain’s arm is outstretched, blocking Jay’s path.
“Not you, sub,” he says. “You’re coming with us.”
15. The Spy in Me
JAY
I’m aboard a troop truck heading east with Ax, Von, the film team, and six regulars. Ahead of us, Colonel Five-Five rides in a car with the Prospect-Inspiration major.
I’m still too shaken up to think straight, but the film woman is fully focused, suggesting we create a fake version of this part of the operation. “The idea is that Von will pick up the scent of the runaways. So we’ll film that after we’ve caught them. No sense in wasting film. The main thing is to show them as escaped criminals. We don’t want them looking noble.”
I’m waiting for Ax to tell her to see the colonel about it, but he just listens to her – meaning she goes on and on about what she expects from Von and me until I can’t stand it anymore.
“What does Election mean?” I ask.
She goes quiet.
“It’s a contest,” Ax says. “Not worth discussing.”
He says it like I’m not to mention it again.
We pull up and we’re off the truck and gathering around the colonel and the major. Agent Two-Three-Three is with them. I didn’t know he’d come along.
“There’s a ranch just over the brow and round a bend,” our spy tells us. “It’s one of three or four places they could hide till dark. If it were me, I’d go for this one because there’s an easy trail south to the river.”
“Okay,” the major says, “the river would be my choice too. They’ll know we have fewer numbers on the other side.”
“It’s a full moon tonight,” the spy says. “Light enough for them to travel, dark enough to give us the slip.
“You, you, and you,” the major says to three regulars. “Get round to the far side. We’ll come along from this side.”
A pincer movement. I guess that makes sense.
While we wait for the regulars to get into position, I try to calm my thoughts. What little empath ability I have is useless when I’m agitated.
Three, four minutes pass. Von lays down and yawns.
“Okay,” the major says.
We move fast. Over the brow. Around the bend. Bearing down on a whitewashed wooden dwelling big enough for a family to call home. Anyone inside would see us about now but have no chance to escape apart from running away from us. And that would send them directly into three armed Nation regulars.
As it is, we approach with no sign of activity. Looks like we’ve picked the wrong place. But the colonel is signaling two men to go in through the back and I realize that the prey could be inside after all, hiding with guns.
There’s shouting. It’s coming from inside. There are no shots but our two men are backing away. I’m guessing there’s a gun or two pointing at them.
They eventually withdraw to the far side, joining the three regulars over there and leaving us with the knowledge that it won’t be easy to flush out the outlaws.
“Tam-Dee Nine-Two, come out!” Colonel Five-Five calls.
I hold on tight to Von’s leash. I just hope they don’t expect the wolf and me to go in anytime soon.
“Tam-Dee Nine-Two, come on out!”
I wonder what he’ll look like, this man who has angered the Nation. I recall the poison-minded boot mender who was executed back home in Forbearance. He looked no threat at all.
The major signals to a couple of regulars and they start shooting out the windows.
Silence falls.
“Mr Nine-Two, come on out!”
We wait a few seconds.
I reckon the major will order more gunfire, but no – a bald, medium-build, mid-forties man in a brown suit comes out through the front door with his hands raised. He looks unremarkable.
The colonel points.
“Tam-Dee Nine-Two, you are hereby found guilty of Crimes against the Nation.”
“Do not call me Tam-Dee Nine-Two,” the man says in a raised but calm voice. “My name is Henry Crawford.”
To me, it’s the strangest name I’ve ever heard, but the way he says it – it’s like it means something far more important than I can understand. In fact – and I know this sounds crazy – it’s like this is the actual reason there’s a war.
A second man emerges. Mid-thirties. Dark clothes. Blonde hair.
“Emm-Don Two-Nine, my clerk,” Henry Crawford says. “He’s done nothing wrong. He only keeps the paperwork in order.”
“Seems to me he’s running from justice,” the major says. “I suggest we go inside for a talk. See if we can’t work out what to do with you two.”
At the house, the colonel posts two regulars as guards then everyone else goes inside. That leaves me with Von. At the door, Ax glances at the sky, now a quarter blue with the promise of sunshine.
“Take Von for a walk.”
“Yes sir.”
I get us away from the building and let Von off the leash. Straightaway he’s off, nose to the ground, on some trail or other. Has he already forgotten the killing we’ve been through?
Funny thing is, I find myself trying to get interested in Von’s activities because it takes my mind away from Endeavor and its horrors.
We’re soon done though. Von’s trail has come to nothing so we head back to the truck because it might be nice to have a lie down on the back now the sun is breaking through.
As I get Von aboard, I hear them talking inside the house. The lure of resting fades a little because I’d like to hear what’s going on. So while Von settles down to sleep, I check out the situation. Two guards at the front and two at the back. The truck is ten feet from the house, facing the side of the building.
I reckon if I get underneath and crawl to the front, I won’t be too far from the rear porch window, which I’m guessing is open.
Should I do this? Should I behave like a spy?
I’m soon in place and listening. I can’t see in, but I can hear Henry Crawford. “People are fleeing because of the war. It’s not their fault desperate rebels steal from them. We have very few weapons and not much will to defend ourselves.”
Very few weapons? Then why did we come in shooting?
“Why didn’t you hold talks with the Lake Towns?” the major asks.
“We’ve been waiting six months for talks. They just sent films showing the power of the Nation. The truth is we’ve been struggling toward the only real choice we had, to be independent.”
I notice that Henry Crawford speaks in a certain way, a way that draws me in.
“It’s the same story we’re hearing from other towns with their damned mayors and independence,” the major says. “It amounts to the same thing – rebellion.”
“The people are entitled to elect a leader,” Henry Crawford says.
“They already have a leader. No vote can change that.”
“It can, major. It’s called freedom.”
I hear a vehicle in the distance. A motorcycle!
“I take it you know the Leader has ordered the death of all mayors and would-be mayors, Mister Crawford.”
“I chose a difficult path and it has come to an unfortunate end. That doesn’t make it the wrong path.”
“Mister Crawford,” Colonel Five-Five says, “if you don’t do as we ask, our soldiers will be stationed in Endeavor for the next four to six weeks. Your people will starve and it will be your fault.”
“Not yours?”
“All you need do is appear in front of the camera holding a sign.”
“A sign saying I’m responsible for all the wrongs in the region? You can kill me and tie the damned thing around my neck, colonel, but I won’t hold it for you.”
The motorcycle pulls up alongside the truck’s fron
t wheel as Sergeant Seven-Nine comes out of the house. The rider gives him an envelope, which the sergeant takes inside. The rider stays put.
I consider moving to the rear of the truck. I could get aboard and sit by Von. But I stay where I am.
“Colonel, you need to make this a priority.” It’s the major’s voice coming through the rear porch window. “Take a captain and a sergeant with you.”
While I wonder what to do, the colonel comes outside with Ax and Sergeant Seven-Nine. The first thing the colonel does is dismiss the rider.
“Where’s the boy?” the colonel says.
“Could be on the truck,” the sergeant says.
Crap! They’ll find Von up there on his own, and me underneath spying on them.
They walk over to the truck.
I feel like running.
I turn and… argh! It’s Von in my face. He’s under the damned truck with me.
“Not here,” the sergeant says.
“Okay,” the colonel says. “This is top secret. It must go no further unless I say so. Understood?”
“Yes, colonel,” the sergeant says.
“Understood, sir,” Ax says.
“The Representative has survived an assassination attempt. He’s unharmed but he wants to return to the Lake Towns. His escorts were killed in the attack, so we’ll be taking their place.”
“To the Lake Towns?” Ax says.
“Yes, captain, to the Lake Towns. Select a team of regulars. We’ll meet the Representative at Pentie, six p.m. Until then, he’s not to be mentioned.”
The Lake Towns. The powerhouse of the Nation. The place where they build cars, tractors, and even giant steam engines to pull trains.
“It’s a great opportunity to meet the Leader, colonel,” Ax says. “You could be made for life.”
“If it were that easy, the major would have gone. No one wants to meet the Leader with bad news – and that’s all we have.”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something to please him, sir,” the sergeant says.
“Something that will appeal to his insane sense of importance, you mean?”
