by Herb Hughes
The sheer drudgery of days upon days in the desert had taken its toll on both rider and mount. Even the promise of food and rest could not quicken Toadstool’s pace. The mule ambled slowly over grassed fields and around shorter trees, the type of land that bordered the desert. The closer they got, the more Mac realized this wasn’t Borderton. The church steeple was wrong. A different shape and color. In fact, there were two church steeples, neither one looking like Borderton’s only church. And this town seemed to be a fair amount larger than Borderton.
Mac stopped at the first store he came to, a small local saloon with a sign out front reading: STAN’S SAND SHACK. Everything else about the place was as weather-beaten typical of small-town saloons as it could be. It was only mid-morning, but the saloon was open and had customers.
“Early lunch or late drinks,” Mac said to Toadstool. “Whichever.” Mac wasn’t sure and didn’t care. With a great effort of his weary old body, he dismounted. He tied Toadstool to a post out front and walked around in circles to try to loosen his trail-stiffened joints. Then he told Toadstool to rest there while he went inside.
“This Borderton?” Mac said to the bartender. “I’m looking for Borderton, but this don’t look like it.”
“This is Deaton. You’re about three days north, northeast of Borderton, old man. But you have to go around the mountains, so it’ll take four, maybe five days.”
“What? Oh, kiss a mule! I’ve been a’going the wrong way.” Thoroughly disgusted, Mac sat on a stool. “I’m hungry, but I’ve got no money.”
“We’re not in the charity business,” the bartender said. “Try one of the churches.”
“Which one’s the closest. I’ve got to get going. Got to get to Jack Wheat. I’ve got to find him quick.”
A man seated at the bar with a beer in front of him spoke up, “Jack Wheat? THE Jack Wheat?”
“Yep. That’s him. Good friend of mine,” Mac answered.
“You won’t find him in Borderton. He’s in Lisbon. And if you’re a friend of his, old man, you better find him quick. Judging from what I’m reading in the papers, Mr. Wheat needs all the friends he can get.”
“What are you talking about?” Mac whined.
The man at the bar picked up the folded newspaper that had been lying on the bar in front of him and tossed it to Mac. “He made the headlines again.”
Mac glanced at the headlines and started reading the article, his eyes getting wider as he read. “This can’t be right.” He shook his head side-to-side, the loose skin of his cheeks flapping as he did. “This ain’t so. Jack’s the finest man who ever walked this planet. Somebody’s plain lying…” Mac slammed the paper down on the bar. “What’s Jack doing in Lisbon? I got to go. I got to get there. How far’s Lisbon from here?”
“About a day’s ride,” the patron at the bar answered. “Maybe a little more, depending on how fast you travel.”
“I got to get going,” Mac said as he stood up from the stool. He was so worn out he stumbled and almost fell.
“Sit back down, old man,” the bartender said. He dipped a bowl of something brown and lumpy and set it in front of Mac. “You can’t go anywhere if you don’t eat something.”
“I ain’t got no money, I told you. This ain’t a church, too, is it? I never heard tell of no church that serves beer.”
“No,” the bartender said, “I’ve got another business behind this one, but it’s not a church. I’m feeding you because of Mr. Wheat. Any friend of Jack Wheat is a friend of mine. Some years ago he gave my parents the money he got from killing a Rhino. Saved the farm during some bad times we were having. So this meal’s on me. I don’t know what all this crap in the newspaper is about, but when you get to Lisbon, you help him out, okay?”
“Thank your kindness, sir. I’ll do everything I can. Ah, my mule’s outside. He could do with a spot of grub, too. If you don’t mind too much.”
The bartender called to the kitchen, and a young man came out. “Go outside and get that mule,” the bartender said. “Feed and water him and rub him down.” Then he turned to Mac. “What’s your name?”
“Huh? Oh, Mac.”
“No last name?”
Mac thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I ain’t used it in so long, I don’t rightly remember. Everybody calls me Mac. Maybe Mac is my last name.”
“Okay, Mac. You look pretty tired…”
There was a sudden loud commotion in the street, with shouting and a mule hee-hawing loudly. Everybody jumped up and ran outside, Mac pulling up the rear. The young man from the kitchen was sprawled on the ground, rubbing his backside. Toadstool stood over him, not letting him up.
“What did you do to that mule, Johnny?” the bartender asked.
“I tried to lead him to the stable,” the young man answered. “He kicked me from behind.”
“You mean in the behind,” a patron from the bar said. The other customers laughed as Mac walked into the street and stood next to Toadstool.
“All you got to do is whisper in his ear and tell him what you’re doing and what you want him to do. That’s all. Let him know first. Toadstool don’t like surprises.” Mac leaned over and whispered in the mule’s ear for several moments then he turned back to the young man and said, “Now. You can take him now. He’s ready.”
Slowly, holding his hand in front of him as though it were enough to ward off an angry mule, Johnny stood up. Toadstool remained motionless. The boy carefully took the reins Mac was handing him and began walking backward toward the small stable on the side of the store, careful not to show his backside to Toadstool a second time. The mule followed obediently. When the two were around the corner of the saloon, everyone went back inside.
“I’m Stan,” the bartender said, extending his hand to Mac, “Stan Whitson.”
Mac was not used to shaking hands. None of the regulars in the desert ever shook his hand. He hesitated a moment, staring at Stan’s outstretched hand, then reached out and took it and gave it a quick one-stroke pump before quickly jerking his hand back.
“Listen, Mac. I want to help you get to Mr. Wheat. Maybe you can help him sort this mess out.” Stan waved at the newspaper to indicate the article. “That isn’t the Jack Wheat my parents knew. Maybe he’s taken to drinking. Something’s got to be wrong. But you aren’t going to make it to Lisbon like this. You need some rest, and so does that poor mule. It’s in sad shape. Let me give you a room. Get to sleep after you eat, and you can get up and get going well before sunrise. That’ll get you into Lisbon tomorrow evening, even on a mule.” Then Stan smiled big and said, “It’s a straight road from here. You can’t miss it.”
Mac was so tired the thought of getting back on Toadstool at that moment was too much. And lying down in a real bed sounded almost too good to be true. He nodded to the bartender. “Thanks.” It had been so long since someone had been this nice to Mac that it was all he could do to keep from crying. In fact, when he thought about it again, he couldn’t keep from crying. A tear managed to sneak out of one old eye and roll its roller-coaster ride down the wrinkled skin of Mac’s face.
Chapter 32
“Thank you for the dance,” Sheffie said as the waltz came to an end. The night was old. It would be time to leave soon. Sheffie glanced to each side to make sure no one could hear then said, almost in a whisper, “Johnathan, I need to ask you a favor.”
“Of course, my dear. Let’s step outside a moment. It’s a beautiful fall evening.” He took her arm and led her to the terrace of the Lisbon Arts Center, which housed the museum, art gallery, concert hall, and ballroom, the location for tonight’s ball. It was a substantial building, and the terrace was huge, complete with spindled railings, decorative arches, and wrought iron benches running the length of the outside railing. Like the Lisbon library, the main floor was one story above street level so they could look down on the city streets from above. There were several small groups outside. Jonathan McGurke stepped through the small crowd with a gracious smile and a greetin
g nod for everyone, maneuvering Sheffie to a quiet corner where they could talk privately.
“I hope I’m not imposing,” Sheffie began.
“Of course not. How could a gentleman possibly refuse a lady such as yourself.”
“By saying ‘no,’ of course.” Buoyed by several drinks, Sheffie giggled at her own poor humor. McGurke laughed politely.
“Jonathan, the newspaper is being quite unfair to Jack. According to Dokie, it is reporting things that are not only untrue but the exact opposite of the truth, purposely malicious. Jack is trying so hard to help, but the paper is making a monster of him.”
“Yes, I’ve read the articles. Of course, Mr. Edwards is not the most honorable of characters. He is, I believe it’s called, a street hustler, a swindler. Not to be believed accordingly to folks who know him. I can’t imagine why Jack has taken up with someone of his reputation.”
“Me, either,” Sheffie admitted. “He, well, I’ve never met Dokie. I know what Jack told me and I can’t believe Jack would lie to me. There must be something you can do.”
“Of course. I will talk to the editor of the paper in the morning. I must warn you, he’s an old political enemy. I may not be able to sway him.”
“Oh,” Sheffie hesitated a moment. “Please do what you can, Jonathan.”
“I will. It’s getting late. May I offer you a ride home?”
“You’re so polite, Jonathan. But the hotel has a carriage waiting for me.”
“Ah. Well, then, dinner tomorrow night at my house? I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I would love to show you my home. And, my dear, my personal cook is the best in Lisbon!”
“We would be delighted. If I can drag Jack along, that is.”
“Oh, I’m sure Jack is busy with all that’s going on. I mean, he’s welcome, of course. But if he can’t be bothered to attend, I still want you to be there. I insist on it. 8:00?”
Chapter 33
Ethan sat bolt upright in bed. “Oh, my god,” he said aloud. “Central on!”
Lucy popped into existence. “How can I help you, Ethan?”
“I could not get to sleep… ”
“Perhaps the right music? Soft, of course.”
“No, it’s Diana. I do not understand why I have only now thought of this. I should have realized it the moment she said her father trained her. She must be more computer proficient than we ever imagined.”
“Ahh!” Lucy caught her breath and held her hand to her mouth. “She has altered her own medical records?”
“Exactly! Having every reading perfectly in the middle of the normal range is extremely rare. She is definitely not normal, so that is the only explanation.”
“But how could she? That is level eight encrypted information. It is highly secured.”
“She said her father taught her well…”
“Yes, of course,” Lucy said.
“She has done this without our being able to trace it. That is astounding! Her computer skills must be greater than those of our trained experts.”
“What are you going to do, Ethan?”
“She will have to be confined to her quarters until her replacement is here. We will sedate her for transit. Once she is home again, they will be able to help her. She’ll be her old self in no time, I’m sure.”
“But she can access the computer system from her quarters,” Lucy protested.
“Yes, of course. We will have to cut her off from Central. Completely. I’ll have her node physically removed from her quarters. We must make sure she has no more access during her confinement. Blast the stars, she could be eavesdropping on us right now.”
“I do not detect anything.”
“If she’s as good as it appears, you wouldn’t even know, Lucy.”
“Oh, my.” Lucy raised her hand to her mouth once again.
Chapter 34
The knocking was so hard that Sheffie was afraid whoever was at the door would break it down. She opened it as quickly as she could. Dokie burst into the hotel room, screaming with every step. “I don’t believe this crazy shit! I, ah…Oh. Good morning, Miss Sheffie. I’m pleased to meet you. Why, you’re even more beautiful than everyone says you are.” Dokie stood staring at Sheffie and rocking back and forth on the balls of his large feet, holding the newspaper behind his back as though he didn’t want her to see the bad news.
“Thank you. You must be Dokie.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jack stepped into the room. “What’s all the commotion, sidekick?”
“It’s the newspaper again. Can you believe they’ve got the gall to print crap like this? Ah, excuse me, Miss Sheffie. Sometimes my tongue moves quicker than my brain. I’ll try to be a little more careful.” Dokie slung the paper onto the breakfast table. “Absolutely ludicrous!”
Jack picked it up and began to read, Sheffie reading over his shoulder.
The article was, if anything, worse than the headlines. Virtually none of it had any relation to the truth. Jack set the paper down and looked at Sheffie.
“There is no other woman,” he said. “I hope you don’t believe any of this.”
“Of course not,” Sheffie answered. “I – I don’t understand. Why are they doing this? Why are they purposely printing this type of stuff? I talked to Jonathan last night… ”
“That jerk’s not going to do anything,” Dokie said. “He’s pure evil. If he weren’t losing money because of the Rhino attacks, I’d say he was the one behind all this.”
“Oh, no. Jonathan would never do anything like that,” Sheffie said. “Why, he’s the one paying for our stay here.”
“The hell he wouldn’t. You never know what angle that, that…” Dokie began.
“That’s enough,” Jack cut him off. “Jonathan McGurke is a wealthy man, and he has far too much to lose from the increasing number of Rhino attacks to undermine any effort to solve the problem. I don’t know what’s going on, but there’s nothing we can do about it right now. This whole thing isn’t working. Even if the newspaper was supporting me, I couldn’t solve the Rhino problem for this entire city by myself. With them printing lies like this, everything I do around here is doomed to failure. I’ve got to approach this differently, but I don’t know how. Maybe Avery has some ideas.” Then directly to Sheffie, he said, “Are you going back to the library? You could spend the day with us.”
“I can’t. It will take another day to finish the library’s basement. I’m in the middle of organizing and cleaning everything for Vishay. I told him I would finish what I started.”
“Vishay needs to put you on the payroll.”
“It’s the least I can do after his generous hospitality. Besides, I’ve found over two hundred old books that he doesn’t need, and he is going to donate them to the Borderton library. Many of them are Earth books with pictures! Oh. We’ll need a wagon going home, of course. I’m beginning to miss Borderton.”
“Me, too,” Jack responded. “And we may well be going home soon.”
“Home! Oh, Jack, I am so ready to leave.” Sheffie reached up and put her arms around Jack and kissed him. “I thought I would love Lisbon, and I do, but everything is so difficult with all this stuff in the newspaper.”
“And embarrassing,” Jack added.
“Yes,” Sheffie shrugged. “It is embarrassing for me as well. It’s all turning out so differently from what I expected. So… so wrong.”
“There is no gracious way to leave Lisbon with the newspaper running a smear campaign. I need to wrap up a couple of things then we’ll go home. You take care of the library today, and I’ll see you tonight. How about a private dinner, the two of us?”
“I didn’t tell you? Jonathan has invited us to his house for dinner.”
Dokie’s face turned red again, and he started to say something, but he looked at Jack and held his tongue.
“I’m sorry, Sheffie, but I’m not exactly in a social mode. Especially with Jonathan McGurke. You go ahead. We’ll talk later.”
Jack did not want to be seen in the streets of Lisbon. Regardless of the truth, the newspaper had spread its poison, and there was nothing he could do. Unless a Rhino popped out of the ground right in front of him, which was not going to happen, he would inevitably get to the scene too late. The newspaper would blame him for all the deaths and the damage.
So, instead of wandering around stupidly all day, he and Dokie helped Avery work on inventions. Jack had only vague notions of what they were doing. Every time he asked, Avery would explain in terms that meant little to him. But he worked hard, feeling as though he were accomplishing something for a change.
The three of them talked about the smear campaign all morning but could think of nothing that would shed light on what was happening. Dokie left shortly after lunch and said he would see Jack later. As soon as it was dark, Jack left. When he got back to the hotel, Sheffie had not yet left for dinner at Jonathan McGurke’s.
“Oh, Jack. I’m glad you’re back early.” She squeezed him with her stronger-than-she-looks hug. He was happy to get squeezed breathless. When she released the hug, she picked up a small book from the end table. “I meant to show this to you last night. I found the most marvelous little diary in the bottom of a plastic box at the back of the basement. An Earth box. All the books on top were badly deteriorated, but the diary is a high-quality little notebook from old Earth. I’ve finished reading it. It’s not in the best of shape, but it has lasted all this time. It was written by one of the original colonists! Your Crazy Mac was right. The first Rhino was not seen until almost six years after the colonists landed. It was described as this horrible new thing that burst out of the ground, but it was something they had never seen before. It terrified them.”
“Rhinos terrify everybody.”
“Yes. But what's weird is the disappearances happened right from the start. The first person to disappear was only a few months after the ships unloaded and left, yet no one saw a Rhino until more than five years later.”