by L. E. Howel
He wasn’t certain they would make it, but it was the only chance he could imagine, and in those last moments he would grab at anything. He barked the order to hold fire and gunned the engine, their wheels spun on the muddy ground for an instant, but quickly they bit against the soft turf and the truck lurched away toward safety.
The attackers pursued. Lauren, who was looking through the back window, shouted that the missile battery had been overrun. A moment later a loud explosion and orange glow across the inky sky confirmed it. Edwards gripped the wheel and pressed hard at the accelerator. The light from the explosion had lit up the plains and left them exposed again to their pursuers. The sooner that truck burned itself up the better, he thought callously to himself. They needed the darkness to cover their escape.
As if to mock his hopes another explosion went up from the launcher’s fuel tank and sent a great pillar of crimson flame up into the sky. Like a beacon it guided the Ares to them as they fled further to the east. The predators harried their prey. Edwards kept the best speed he could, if he could only get far enough away they might still be lost in the dark, but the terrain was tough and ruts and bumps made swift progress difficult.
Incredibly, the horsemen were catching them. They seemed to glide over the difficulties that had slowed the truck, and Lauren saw through the rear window that they would soon be overtaken. The glow from the missile carrier’s fire had dimmed, but the riders hardly seemed to need it as they chased after them. Under the cloudy night sky Lauren could see very little of their approaching enemies except their dark forms. It seemed to her that there was something else, a certain phosphorescence about them in the dim light. There were little specks of light shining, like a thousand glowing eyes. It only served to increase Lauren’s impression that they were hunted and that these were wild animals that chased them now.
The truck fled on into the darkness. Edwards was driving using night-vision and the sickly green glow from the screen threw ghostly shadows on his face, strangely mirroring the effect of the lights Lauren saw on their pursuers.
They would be overcome at any moment. The soldiers manning the weapons stations waited for the order to fire. They knew it would be their last order.
Still Edwards clung to the hope of escape, and they sped on with all their might, fleeing mindlessly for even a second more of life before the end.
Suddenly from ahead an advancing column came into view. Edwards shouted his rage to the air, somehow they had been surrounded and the net was closing around them. He screamed the order to fire, fire weapons and take as many of them out as they could before they went down too.
A pulse of red fire leapt from the truck’s cannon and lit a beautiful explosion into the throng behind them. Again they fired with small arms and cannon into the crowd, but it seemed to make no noticeable difference, still they came and soon it would be over.
Edwards knew they were dead, but obstinately he pushed on, ready to smash into the enemy before him, but something about this advancing group seemed odd. It was their equipment and trucks. Suddenly he knew, these weren’t the Ares, this was the promised reinforcements from the east. They had arrived in time. The explosions must have alerted them to their location and they were here to save them.
Instantly Edwards pushed hard on the brakes, bringing the truck to a sliding halt on the muddy ground. They spun sideways as he pulled at the wheel, but he managed to stop before they plowed into their rescuers. The riders pursuing them were not so fortunate. They had whipped their horses into such a frenzy that they had almost caught them, but now they were so close that they had no time to react, and they slammed into the side of the truck at full force. With a sickening thud one horse smashed into the vehicle, sending its rider flying over the roof and rocking their transport back on its wheels. An instant later another five had crashed into them and sent the truck tottering over onto its side.
From inside the truck all of this had come as a quick succession of confusing events that seemed to hit in a single moment. Before they could do much they had found themselves upside-down and swamped by the Ares horsemen that had been pursuing them. Some managed to jump over the downed vehicle. Others clambered over it with the heavy thud of horse’s hooves on the armor plating. Most were too stunned to do much, but as one of the soldiers groggily opened a door to escape he was shot by a waiting Ares and slumped back down and on top of Lauren. She screamed and Edwards and a soldier pulled her out.
Through a broken window Edwards returned fire into the night. Another soldier poked his weapon cautiously around the opened door, sending a volley of fire in the direction of the attack. The drizzling rain splashed through the cracked glass and into Edwards face as he shot repeatedly at an enemy he couldn’t see. After a time no return fire came and the sound of horses grunting and clumping through the muddy soil was replaced by the thunder of heavy engines and heavy fire being turned against the fleeing Ares. Edwards gingerly crept toward the door and looked out.
The advancing trucks had their searchlights on and were sweeping the countryside for any sign of movement. This time it was the Ares who sought the cover of darkness to save themselves from the dreadful onslaught. Great masses of horses and riders could still be seen scurrying across the landscape, but when a beam of light found them a multitude of missiles shot colorfully from the launchers and bathed them all in the brilliant glow of their explosive power.
The battle had moved on and they were left alone among the wreckage. To the north they could see the brilliant flashes of explosions as the Ares were pushed fearfully back. They were in full flight now as they slunk into the night. Their overwhelming force had been overwhelmed, and now they ran for their lives. He hoped Jane had escaped too. If things kept up like this there wouldn’t be anybody to take back east and, explanations or not, Edwards knew things would be very bad for him then. He had to hope that Jane was okay.
As he watched the last cleanup operations of the battle Edwards sighed. They were safe, at least for now. A large number of the Ares had escaped. They could evaporate like a mist in the night. At least their convoy was going to be that much larger now, and with this military escort it seemed unlikely that anything would try to stop them from here on. Still, he wasn’t ready to celebrate yet. He didn’t feel he could be sure of anything right now. Their enemy was just too unpredictable for that. That was the horror of all of this- the Ares, who he thought he knew so well, were not behaving in any way he could understand. It made the world an alarming place. What would they do next?
THIRTY-SEVEN
The flash to the south, like an explosive dawn in the dark sky, had been enough to tell them that the battle had been joined. Birch wondered who those horsemen were fighting and, more importantly who was winning. The explosion looked distant, but powerful. The red glow lingered on the horizon. Someone had taken a big hit. He was almost tempted to go to the south and see for himself, but he knew that would be a foolish risk to take. He might find the others down there, but if they were defeated he would be caught in the middle of their problems. It was wiser to keep going east and see if they could make it on their own.
They continued to the east. Karla had been quiet since the shooting incident and he was glad at least that it was dark so he couldn’t see her face. If she had only been angry then that would have been tolerable, he had expected that, but instead she had been disappointed in him. That was much worse. Even after all he had told her she still had the capacity for belief in him, and he hated it. Her face had taken on that hurt look that seemed to say that she was expecting something else, that she had believed something better of him. That was the worst feeling of all, the way some people could look at you with new eyes when they disagreed with something you did.
Approval was something he hadn’t sought for years. He was good at what he did, and that was enough. People tried to tie you up in their strings of approval and respect. They held them out as a prize, something to be earned, and once you fell short it would be snatched away.
>
He didn’t care. That was what it had felt like before he had gone on the mission. His family and friends had taken Sarah’s side, why wouldn’t they, she was in the right. They had all withdrawn. They would still talk to him and smile if they saw him, but he knew it was false. They would talk to him while he was there, and talk about him when he was gone.
He thought there was nothing left to miss on earth, so the Hypnos missions had seemed the perfect escape. But here he was now facing the same thing. You couldn’t escape it unless you escaped from people. He had faced the very same thing since his tough decision to bring them all back to earth and to abandon their settlement. They had hated him for it. They had all withdrawn their approval and friendship, but he did what needed to be done. Now Karla was withholding her approval, like it was supposed to hurt him or something. She obviously didn’t know the kind of callus that had formed over his soul. Nothing she could do could touch him. Nothing anyone could do would ever touch him again.
They walked silently for a time, neither was willing to speak first, and so nothing was said. Birch could see her form in the moonlight and hear the swishing of the grass as she passed through it. He wanted to speak to her but he couldn’t. They would remain silent.
Finally Birch halted. They needed to rest. The glow to the south had died away and there were no further signs of the battle, so perhaps they were safe. They would rest and start again in the morning. Without a word he removed his pack and began taking things out he would need for the night. His blanket was a soggy mess, and there wasn’t much else he could use to sleep in except the jacket Karla had picked out for him in Denver. That at least would keep him warm as the night air turned to chill and made him shiver.
At first he thought that Karla was going to keep going. She took a number of steps beyond him and then lay down on the ground. Her backpack served as a pillow and she curled up for warmth beneath her own coat. Neither of them said anything. She was going to hold it against him and they weren’t going to be friends for a while. Fine. He deliberately turned to face the other way.
The night was unremarkable and still. It was strange, too, that only a few miles away some great battle had taken place while here everything seemed at peace. He dozed quietly beneath the stars, but he looked to the ground. It was there that he caught the first impression of something- something out of place that might have alarmed him, if he had only been more awake. As it was he distantly felt that there was more to this dark shape than his drowsy brain could comprehend and he thought in a distracted way that he should do something about it, but it wasn’t until the crack of gunfire and the orange glow of discharged powder that he really understood and reacted.
Instantly Birch was on his feet, grabbing for his rifle he ran into the tall grass. He quickly fired at the place the shot had come from, before stopping to reload again. In that moment he heard a sound that stopped him cold, a whimpering sob from where Karla was lying. He turned to look back, but was quickly aware of another movement to his left. More distantly now he could see the fleeing figure of an Ares running in the moonlight. He took two shots that missed as the shadow ducked low to the earth. He was already fifty yards away and running at great speed. He would be gone soon. Birch took a few running steps in pursuit but was halted again by the cries coming from Karla’s direction.
Birch trembled in the moonlight, took a last futile shot at the now distant assailant, and turned to where Karla lay. She hadn’t gotten up and Birch dreaded to see her, to learn what had happened to her. He still wanted to run, to chase the one who had done this and to wreak a bloody revenge, but his legs walked mechanically toward that small, wet patch of earth. Step by step he approached.
Karla was alive, but only just. Birch looked desperately for any sign of the wound as he neared. The shot had gone into her stomach and she lay there bleeding beneath her practical coat. She smiled inexplicably when he approached, a red, bloody smile that tore at Birch’s hopes. She was in bad shape. She coughed weakly, bringing up more blood, but she weakly held a crimson hand out to Birch.
For a time he couldn’t move. He watched the hand, like some ghostly apparition, the writing on the wall, but he couldn’t translate. He didn’t want to go, to find out what it all meant. Still he did, and as her hand clasped his it seemed to warm him after the cool night air.
“Thomas…” she began, but started coughing again with convulsions that wracked her small frame. She didn’t speak again. Her breathing became erratic and she coughed so violently that Birch believed she might almost fall apart in his hands. He put her head on his lap and stroked soothingly at her hair. Her eyes closed. She was drifting away, and as Birch looked down at her face he saw how natural she looked. He wiped the blood from her mouth and she almost looked as she had every other day, every day he had known her. He hadn’t noticed how many days it was, but suddenly it seemed like there must be so many ahead without her, stretching like a barren road toward eternity.
A single tear escaped before he could blink it away and rolled down his nose before dropping onto Karla’s face. Her eyes opened. She hardly moved now, her breath was so faint he couldn’t detect it, yet in those eyes there was life. She looked at him. Nothing moved, her mouth was still, her hands lay limply at her side, and the convulsing coughs had stopped. Only her eyes showed life and they showed it all. They spoke with a deeper meaning than any of the words they had spoken in any of the days, months, or years that he had known her and it felled Birch, as though her bullet had passed through him too.
In that moment he knew about her and he knew about himself. For once he understood. He knew what it all meant and he wanted it now. He wouldn’t turn away if only she could hang on. He pulled Karla up into his arms and clung to her desperately. An age seemed to pass as he held her in his embrace. Finally as he drew back he could see her eyes staring vacantly into nothing. She was gone. He sobbed.
He stayed like that through the night, and as the light of dawn came across the prairie it seemed to make things more real. It was a long time before he could think clearly enough to decide to do anything but sit there with Karla’s head resting against his shoulder. Finally his mind began to work and he decided to bury her. He wouldn’t leave her out for the animals and the elements. She deserved better than that. She deserved better than anything she ever got. She deserved better than anything he could do, but he would do this for her.
With whatever tools he had he dug down until he could lay her into the earth and cover her lonely form with soil and rocks. There would be no marker, he felt as though he would be her living monument. Still he wanted to remember this place. He looked about him, as though to forever fix this scene into his memory. Finally he was ready to go and one single thought burned through his mind like a fever.
Someone was going to die for this.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The battle had ended well. Edwards was jubilant and buoyed by what he had seen. It seemed to confirm the impossible, that they could win this war and change the world. The night had proven that the Ares were a dangerous enemy, but for the second time it had also demonstrated that they could be beaten in battle. It was impossible to tell exactly how many of them had fallen, but it was a great number and that seemed, again, to prove their vulnerability.
These massive attacks had worried him, but now they seemed their greatest chance for victory over them. Whatever had inspired them to open warfare was uncertain, but it was clear that it was exposing them to great danger, and eventually great loss. If the battles to the east had taken the same course as those he had witnessed then this war might finally end in victory. The rebuilding could begin.
Jane and Lauren both were safe, that was important, and for the first time since they had reached the Rockies it looked as though things were finally under control again. With a large military escort to guide them and a defeated Ares force in full retreat it seemed as though the path to the east was opening up before them.
To ensure their safety the military had set
up camp here and had sent search and destroy missions out in all directions to mop up any remaining Ares resistance. When they were done with them it would be a long time before the Ares would be a problem around here again. That would certainly buy them a little time and a few miles free from attack. They just had to wait to find out if the Ares had anything more to throw against them before they could make it to the relative safety of the Mississippi.
It was strange, this feeling of security. He had spent so long running and hiding, dodging and escaping, that he hardly knew how to comprehend safety. But here he was, in a convoy of nearly a hundred vehicles, with six hundred well-armed, well-trained troops, mopping up the remainder of the Ares. As he looked out onto the plains they seemed a very different place.
***
As Birch looked out onto the dreary landscape he sought for any sign of the killer. He didn’t expect to find anything, and he didn’t. The figure had run to the south, but that had been hours ago. All he could do now was go after him and hope for some luck. If it was a matter of determination or persistence then he would get him. But he knew his chances were slim. If only there was something more.
His distracted mind tried to think of a way he could get any advantage in these circumstances, but none came. His only asset was his resolve, the promise that everything he ate and drank would be fuel for this single purpose, that every thought and action would be put to this end, to repay in kind for what was done to him.