by Arthur Butt
"What kind of bots do we have back here, Bev?" I asked, sliding open a storage compartment. Kat and John crowded around me. Mechanical rats, snakes, and ducklings scattered out on her deck.
"I think – yes! – These might do nice." The snakes slithered into life and crawled across the floor, while the rats scurried around poking their noses under cushions. "Oh – we can't forget this little pest either." The metal sphere, which sat dormant all this time, rose in the air and began zipping around our heads.
"Great," I chuckled aloud. "These'll get those guards up and moving. I'll sneak out and –"
"Hunter? It's probably a better idea if you stay here," Kat said seriously. "You're not too good at sneaking – or running if you have to."
John watched me gimp around on my bum leg. "This is my job, anyway. The elders keep us out practicing and patrolling all the time. Since we've started traveling, I've stalked game every third day or so. We hunt to save our herds." He touched a knife on his belt. "I've gotten good at sneaking. Get those soldiers away for a few minutes and I'll do the rest. There's no need for more than one of us to chance capture anyway."
It galled me, but they both had a point. "Yeah, okay," I grumped. I checked outside. The stars had emerged in the night sky. "Well, no sense waiting. Bev, open your hatch and let's start the first of our troops marching."
Doc's mechanical gizmos poured out and flopped onto the ground, starting for the soldiers. John followed in their wake, vanishing into the night. I kept the flying ball behind as a reserve.
"Bev, crank up the audio so we can hear what's happening," Kat said.
". . . slim pickin' this trip," one of the soldiers grunted as he checked over the prisoners with a grimace.
"Better than nothing," replied another. He took a sip from a bottle and passed it around while he warmed his hands by the fire. "Nobody told us how many, they said, bring back recruits. We are."
A third added, "Someone said we're swinging farther north after we're done here and sweeping the plains. Maybe we'll have better luck."
"Nah – we gotta wait, someone said Morgan's sending out more men. We're sticking around for reinforcements – waste of time if ya ask me."
The leader, by the hash marks on his sleeve, remarked, "Ya both got it wrong – and hand the liquor over this way, it's cold tonight." He accepted the bottle, took a long swig, and wiped his lips. "We're getting more men, and then we're swinging north." He passed the drink along.
The first soldier accepted it and said, "Anyway, this section's been picked mighty clean. We'll ship the lot back to Morgan City and –" He sputtered and dropped his drink, kicked at the dirt at his feet, hitting the bottle and sent it spinning. He leaped to his feet cursing. "Snake! Darn thing tried to climb up my leg!"
The rest of the soldiers sprang up, staring down at their boots. One picked up a stick and wacked at a shadow.
"Where? Ouch!"
Another man hopped on one foot. "Dang rat, chewed through my shoe and bit me on the toe!" he hollered. "Son-of-a –"
Two of the guards jumped on a log, the rest walked tippy-toed, swatting at the grass around their camp with the butts of their rifles.
"We have them up and moving," laughed Kat.
"Yeah, but it didn't chase them off. Let's rev up the heat and see what happens. Okay, Bev," I chuckled, "Send in the pest and let her work her magic."
The flying sphere zipped out of Bev's hatch and made a beeline for the soldiers.
". . . seems to be gone." The soldiers stepped off the log, scanning the area around their campsite for any more varmints. "I guess they were – WHAT THE HECK?" The ball buzzed one of the soldiers, narrowly missing his shoulder. "What is this thing – a bat?"
The sphere dive bombed each man, paused, and waited as though it were a kid playing. It inched closer to the soldiers, backed up, and wobbled in the air.
"Darnest thing I've ever seen," exclaimed the leader in fascination as the orb did a waltz around his head. He reached out a hand to touch the ball, and the sphere wiggled up out of his grasp.
"Bet we'd get a good bonus if we brought back this thing to the major," said one.
The leader waved his arms in either direction. "Circle round behind and trap it. Let's see if we can catch the little bugger."
The men made a slow inching movement left and right, assembling a ring around the globe. They leaped forward – and the sphere jerked upward as the soldiers crashed together. It bobbed back down, soared along the tips of their clutching fingers, and drifted toward the edge of the camp.
"GET IT."
The soldiers raced after the orb, which continued to elude them, staying out of their grip as it weaved back into the brush. Lights sprang out of the shell, making the orb seem a drunken will-of-the-wisp or a happy disco ball. Occasional cursing bellowed out of the darkness, as one or another of the soldiers tripped over a log or rock. The swearing grew fainter.
A silent figure flickered from shadow to shadow, finally emerging into the fire light. John drew his knife. The blade flashed three times and the prisoners were free. He put his fingers to his lips for silence, waved to his fellows to follow, and the four faded back into the night, creeping our way.
The prisoners halted at Bev's open hatch and started arguing. "Quick, jump in," I urged, standing at the door and waving the Amerijuns to hurry. "This is no time to have a debate."
"The horses, we can't leave them," one said and made a move to return for their mounts.
John snapped back, "Forget about the ponies, we have more at camp."
The bot snakes and rats leaped and slithered between their legs, over the edge of the hatch, and into the hold. A few minutes later, the flying orb zipped through the air, followed by the soldiers. The sphere dive-bombed their heads one last time, put on a burst of speed, and flew into the cargo bay. It settled on the floor as if waiting for a treat.
"But –"
"GET IN HERE – NOW, OR WE'RE LEAVING WITHOUT YOU!" roared Bev. Her hatch slowly dilated shut. All four heads twisted in our direction and the men piled into the cargo bay before her door snapped closed.
"Okay, Bev, all finished here," said Kat. "We're tight? Let's make some tracks."
"Yeah, Bev," I shouted as the soldiers discovered our location by crashing into Bev's invisible hull. They careened off, screamed, and slammed their fists against her exterior. "Burn rubber."
"Rubber?" wailed Bev, as she dashed off into the night. "Latex stinks, and I didn't bring any perfume. Can't we burn incense instead?"
Chapter Fourteen
"We scattered after those bulls charged," Robert Whitehorse, John's brother, said, "and then hunted for this one," he jabbed a finger at his brother. "While we searched those jokers jumped us." His black eyebrows furrowed, and he clenched his hands to stop them from shaking in rage. "We never stood a chance."
We headed north, back to their encampment, John supplying Bev with directions. Kat asked Robert, "What were those soldiers saying about another army coming? Did you hear anything else?" New anguish for our town echoed in her voice.
Robert shook his head and issued a derisive laugh. "Those dirty –" He bit his lip. "Same as you, I guess. Barracks rumors, guesses. All they knew is what someone else heard; but if they do go north, they'll run right into my people. Who is this Morgan, anyway?"
"A bad dude who's trying to conquer this part of the country," I replied. I said to Kat, "I hope Pop wasn't right and they meant to move on to Paradise Cove and attack the town."
"Whatever," Robert spat the word out in disgust. "My people thought they were running from trouble, now it appears we're heading right into it, no matter what."
Twice we saw parties of Morgan's men, each time I had Bev fade into stealth mode and slide behind a screen of bushes. Both John and Robert were all for attacking the soldiers.
"Not a good idea," Kat replied. "Do we really want Morgan to know there are people with heavy weapons up here who aren't afraid to fight?" When she saw the hesitation on thei
r faces she said, "This is the problem we're facing in Paradise Cove, he knows we're still alive."
We drove through a low range of rolling hills and entered the valley where John's people halted to set up camp.
As we bounced down into the basin, a group of riders stormed up to us on ponies, whooping and hollering. Each clutched a spear in their hands with bows strung over their backs. I thought an attack was under way until John snorted, "Kids playing cowboys and Indians."
I checked the gang again. Not one was over twelve, but I did a double take; black faces mixed with oriental features, and one little guy with blond hair tried stabbing Bev with a knife.
I said to John questioningly, "I know you weren't all from the same tribe, but none of these kids are Amerijuns."
"Nah, they're not," John replied. He settled back in his seat and watched the kids with amusement as they flew across the view screen. "I told you, we have all types traveling with us now. The council is a pushover when it comes to helping people. We pass a small town in trouble and is talking about leaving anyway, and they say, 'Sure come with us, safety in numbers'."
He paused. "You think you've got problems with this Morgan guy, well, up north there are about ten of him. We even have people invading from Canada. Every day another town is destroyed, more people die. Coming south and joining with others is the best thing we ever did. No one attacks us now."
"Yeah, but you're always on the move, right?" said Kat quickly. "It's hard to get a bead on you when you're a colony of marching army ants."
"Well, we do put guards out every night," admitted John, "but we don't move every day. It's march for a couple of weeks, and then sit and recon. The council is searching for a safe place. They've become tired of traveling."
Kat frowned and said halfway between wonder and fear, "Paradise Cove was never a dangerous place to live, or at least we never thought it was, until Morgan and his men came along."
The kids finished their mock attack, and galloped off into the distance searching for more exciting prey. Bev kept trucking for the middle of the temporary city.
I expected to see teepees, wigwams, or long houses, but instead, the place reminded me of a carnival on a road trip.
Pup tents were scattered everywhere, and huge canvas lean-tos dotted the landscape, pavilions of red, white, and green flourished – colorful mushrooms within a sea of color. Old battery driven cars chugged up and down the narrow winding streets (how they managed to recharge those monsters, I don't know) and a few of the newer steam driven ground vehicles parked well away from the traffic. Kids ran underfoot, along with chickens. Spread out behind this spectacle, herds of cattle, horses, and flocks of sheep grazed.
"No pigs?" asked Kat.
"Over there." Robert gestured to a grove of oaks "We let them root under the trees and eat the acorns."
"Oh, wow, this place is demented," I said, trying to decide what I should stare at first. I pressed my face against Bev's screen to see better.
People stopped what they were doing and gawked back at us as we inched through the crowd. We hit what I thought of as the main street and slowed even more.
"Yeah, well, we started out two months ago, okay," John said, embarrassed, "and we were orderly; but as more people joined, everything wobbled out of control. Each group had their own ways of living. We're still trying to work things out."
A group of women walked by, herding a flock of sheep. Each dressed in Berka style, their heads and bodies draped in cloth, only their eyes showing as they watched us drive past. "I guess so," I murmured.
"Say," Kat said, gesturing to a boy wearing a dashiki shirt who shooed along a herd of swine across our path. The pigs spied the oak trees and rushed for supper. Bev stopped to allow them squeal by. "If you have all these animals running around, how come you were out hunting? I know you said to conserve your flocks, but –"
"We really weren't hunting," John admitted. "We were out scouting; but we are trying to grow our herds larger. When we saw the elephants we figured we'd grab some free bush meat, and come back the heroes."
John directed us to a green and white stripped pavilion. "This is the Hall of the Tribal Council," Robert explained as we parked and scrambled out. He drew back the flap and he and John entered, the other two scouts trailed. When Kat and I hesitated, he said, "It's all right, come in. It's actually the rec room, but they decided to give it a fancy name."
Three men and one woman hunched over a table with a Monopoly game set up. Three others played cards on a nearby desk. A few foosball tables sat in the corner, not in use.
As the four of us walked up to the table one of the leaders, a dark skinned man smoking a cigar, glanced up and remarked, "Back so soon? And who are these kids you brought, strays? We've got plenty all ready." He saw the expression on our faces and laughed. "Hey, I was kidding." He sat back in his chair and took a puff of his cigar. "Come on in, the more the merrier." The rest of the elders laughed along with him.
"They rescued us from soldiers down south while we were scouting," John said. "We have problems."
The laughter stopped and everyone concentrated on us.
The elder ripped the cigar out of his mouth and leaned forward. "What soldiers? Down south, you say? How far?" He glanced from John to Robert. "Report!"
Robert told him what happened, with John and the others adding details about our rescue of their party. The rest of the elders listened carefully, asking occasional questions about some detail of what Morgan's soldiers said, their weapons, and making muted comments among themselves.
When Robert and John reached the end of their story, the elder nodded. "We must call the whole council together," he told the others. He said to Kat and me, "I guess I owe you two a thanks for saving my sons and his friends. John – Robert – take them back to our place and make sure they're fed. I think your mom and sister have supper ready about now."
We left and Robert's two scouting partners hurried off to find their families.
"He's your dad?" Kat asked John as we watched their friends leave.
"Yeah, he's one of the elders," John replied with a small smirk. "Some job, huh? Most of the time they play games, or BS about the good old days, and call it working. Follow me," he waved us to hurry, "let's see if there's anything to eat."
Robert was already sauntering past the pavilion with impatient glances behind him. The three of us ran and caught up, and weaved our way between more tents, until we arrived at a small wooded area with a stream running through it. A half a dozen motorhomes and campers parked there. John pointed to the largest motorhome, a white and grey striped monster and said, "This is ours."
A woman, and a girl about Kat and my age, sat out front on lawn chairs, a folding table loaded with food set-up for dinner. Plates and cups perched on one side along with a plastic pitcher. As we strolled into their camp, the girl's eyebrows lifted with interest.
Robert called out, "Hey, Mom, we're home, brought company for supper."
The older woman stood, shoved her hands on her hips and shot back, "Oh, yeah? I'm glad you asked first."
"Dad told us we could," John replied defensively.
"Hey, guys," I said to John and Robert, "we didn't mean to cause any –"
Their mother's lips lifted. "Don't worry," she said, "I was faking. I enjoy keeping these two bugs of mine on their toes, makes them think. Of course you're welcome to stay for dinner; fried chicken, baked beans, and dandelion salad with wild mushrooms." She dusted her hands off and began laying out plates. "Why don't you all go down to the brook and wash up – you too, Annie," she ordered her daughter. "We'll eat in a couple of minutes. I'm not going to wait on your father any longer." She gave us a wink. "If he's not here by the time we're done, he'll have to fight the pigs for the scraps."
John and Robert made a hard right and strode toward the trickle of water running behind their motorhome. Kat and I walked slower behind the two, stopping for John's sister as she hurried to catch up. "Hey, slow down!" she yelled to her br
others, falling in beside me. "This isn't a race you know."
Her brothers kept walking and ignored her – she cupped her hands. "I guess I have to introduce myself," she screamed so her brothers could hear, "since no one was polite enough to do it for me!" She beamed at me and said, out of breath, "Hi, I'm Annie." She swept her long black hair out of her face, "What's your name?"
"Squaw need no introduction," John called back, not glancing around. He dug his elbow into his brother's side. "Little squaw make food, feed brave warriors, be silent." Both brothers broke out in giggles.
"Little squaw put pine cones in warrior's beds tonight," Annie yelled, "Teach brave warriors a lesson." She laughed and glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. "I'll do it too," she whispered.
"This is Kat, I'm Hunter," I said, trying not to laugh aloud.
Kat said, "You have a nice motorhome, does it belong to your parents?"
"Yeah," Annie replied nonchalantly, "They bought it a long time ago. We used to travel all over the country before the Greys attacked." We hit the stream and started scrubbing up. Annie said to me, "Where'd my brothers find you two?"
I pushed water out of my eyes and said, "Ah, they were out scouting. We were out scouting, we sorta hooked up."
"He's being modest," Kat exclaimed. She scooted closer to me and said across my back, "We rescued them." Next, she wrapped her arm around my waist and gave me a small hug. "Hunter was so brave!" Her head lay against my shoulder. "He's been my hero since we were little kids."
I stared at her wondering if she'd gone crazy. I'd sat in Bev, doing nothing, and I didn't even know what to think about all this touchy-feely stuff. "I – er – didn't do much," I stammered. "It was more of a joint effort." Kat was still hanging on to me. I tried to shake her off without success.