“There!” said Cap. “See those houses? See the light?”
“They’ll search there,” said Lena.
“Yes, but it looks like there’s a ravine before the road. That’ll slow them down. We’ll hide in the woods behind the houses.”
It was their only option, so Logan veered toward the houses. They reached the ravine and splashed through the knee-deep water. They scrambled up the bank on the other side and pulled themselves over the retaining wall and onto the road.
The houses were all dark. The light they had seen was coming from a fire burning behind the middle one. They sprinted across the road. Logan stopped near the corner of the house farthest to the left and peered around the corner. Three men with long hair and thick beards warmed themselves at the fire. Two women sat across from them. There were several rough-looking backpacks stacked in a line near a tree at the edge of the firelight.
Logan eased back from the house’s edge and whispered to the others. “Three men. Two women. Looks like they’re passing through and stopped here for the night.”
They all turned at the sound of a revving truck engine near the ravine. The group around the campfire heard it, too. They sat stone silent, heads cocked, and listened for more noise. Then came the sound of slamming doors and shouting voices. One of the bearded men got to his feet and kicked dirt onto the fire. Within seconds, the fire was out and darkness descended. Logan saw the outlines of the five people quickly put on their large packs and run for the trees. Behind him, the sound of voices grew louder as men climbed up the ravine and onto the road.
Logan, Cap, and Lena ran toward the break in the trees into which the five backpacks had disappeared. In seconds, they were inside the dark forest, barely able to see. Logan was able to make out the faint line of a trail in front of them, which he followed as quickly as he dared. Cap and Lena were right behind him.
Spurred on by the clanking sound of loose items on one of the backpacks ahead of them, Logan trotted along the trail, occasionally stumbling on a root or rock, but never slackening the pace. The clanking sound seemed to be getting farther away. Assuming the backpackers knew the best escape route, Logan increased his speed in order to keep up with them.
Suddenly, three dark figures leapt out from behind some trees on their left and crashed into them. The attackers carried long sticks and used them to push Logan, Cap, and Lena off of the trail and down a hill on the right side. They rolled for a few meters before coming to a stop. Logan fought to get up, but one of the figures struck him in the head with a staff, knocking him back down. Logan looked up to see a man with a thick black beard standing over him. He held the tip of his walking staff above Logan’s head, ready to strike.
Logan held up his hands. “Wait, wait,” he said. “We’re just trying to get away from those men.”
“I can see that,” said the man with a slight twang in his voice. “And that’s exactly why you need to get the hell off this trail and strike out a different way. We don’t want no trouble with them Red Legs, and I’d sooner smash in your skull and let them find your body than have you leading them to us.” He raised the staff and made some quick jabbing motions toward Logan’s face.
Logan turned his head and saw Lena and Cap were also on their backs, a man standing over each of them. One of the men was pointing what appeared to be an old revolver at Cap. The other had a thick staff ready to strike Lena. Logan looked at Lena and their eyes locked. She made a slight gesture with her right index finger. He saw the pummel of her gun in its holster under her jacket. He shook his head slightly.
A light clanking sound drew Logan’s attention up the trail. He saw a woman approaching.
“Stop talking like that, Hugh,” she said to the man standing over Logan. “If the Red Legs is after these young folks then we should help ‘em. That’s the Traveler Code.”
“They ain’t Travelers,” replied Hugh, disdain in his voice. “Look at their clothes, Claire. No food, no packs, no boots.”
Claire cut him off. “The Traveler Code ain’t just for Travelers. It’s for everyone. Now let them up, and if they mean no harm then they can travel in peace.” She reached to the side of her pack and tucked a loose metal cup hanging from a string into a pocket.
The man named Hugh paused for a moment. Then he lowered his staff and took a step back. “Search ‘em,” he said to the other woman who was half hiding behind a tree. She came forward and quickly went through their pockets. She found their documents and train tickets. She also found Lena’s gun and the metal sphere, but she missed the medallion inside Logan’s pocket.
Hugh looked at the pistol and silencer. “Well, well. This is a fancy rig. I think I’ll hold on to it for a while.” He grinned at Lena and tucked the gun into his belt. “And what the hell is this thing?” he asked, holding the bronze-colored sphere in front of him. “A little cannon ball?”
He looked at Logan, who said nothing.
Hugh squinted one eye shut and said, “So yer the silent type. Maybe I’ll hold on to this for a while, too.”
They heard voices from the direction they had come and saw flashlights illuminate the trees. “Come on,” said Hugh. “Let’s git.”
He darted up the hill and ran down the trail. Two of the Travelers followed, but not Claire or the man with the revolver. Claire looked at the young people’s faces and said, “We need to git movin’. They found the trail entrance and will be on us before you can spit.”
She turned and ran after Hugh and the others. The man with the revolver signaled for the three of them to stand up and follow the group. They complied and soon caught up with Claire.
They all trotted down the trail as quickly and silently as possible, but their unburdened pursuers were gaining ground. They came to a fork and Hugh veered to the right down a gentle slope. The group followed him down the trail, winding their way between trees and bushes. Logan had no idea how many pursuers were behind them, but he hoped that at least a few of them would take the wrong turn on the trail.
As he ducked under a tree branch, Logan recalled Hugh’s description of their pursuers. Red Legs. He must have meant Republican Special Forces, an elite fighting force within the Republican Guard whose field uniforms included burgundy-colored leggings. But it couldn’t be RSF because they were prohibited by law from operating anywhere inside the nation’s borders. They were strictly for border protection and special operations in foreign conflicts.
His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Claire trip over a root. She stumbled a couple of steps and struggled to regain her balance, but her heavy backpack caused her to lurch out of control toward the right. She crashed to the ground and slid to a stop five meters down the hill.
Logan immediately ran down the slope to help her get to her feet. Cap was close behind. The man with the revolver, who was the last in the group, stopped and quickly assessed the situation. Then he stepped behind a tree and pointed his weapon back along the trail in the direction they had come from.
Hugh trotted back to the group and looked at Claire as she climbed back up to the trail, Logan and Cap assisting on either side. Hugh’s eyes filled with panic. He looked at his companion with the revolver, then got behind a large tree trunk. He stared grim-faced up the trail, Lena’s pistol at the ready.
When they were all back on the trail, Logan heard a voice call out from higher up the trail. “This way!”
Flashlights illuminated the trees around the little group. The man with the revolver was preparing to fire a shot at one of the lights, but Logan placed his hand on the man’s arm and gently pulled the weapon down.
Logan turned and whispered to everyone. “You folks aren’t going to die tonight. They’re after us and if we give ourselves up, they’ll leave you alone. But only if you give me back that sphere. They want that more than anything else.”
The Travelers looked at each other. Hugh nodded and handed Logan the sphere, which he slipped into his coat pocket. Then he offered Lena her pistol.
Lena shook he
r head. “Keep it. You might need it sometime.”
Hugh leaned toward her and said in a low voice, “Red Legs kill Travelers.” He held the gun out again for her to take it.
“No,” said Logan. “We’d never win a shootout. And they want to capture us alive.”
“Maybe,” said Hugh. “But what happens after that?”
Not waiting for a response, Hugh turned and said in a low voice to the other Travelers, “Let’s go.”
Claire hesitated and looked at the three young people.
“Claire.” Hugh gripped her by the arm and pulled her away.
The Red Legs came around a bend in the trail just as the Travelers disappeared behind a large boulder.
“Hands where I can see them,” barked a man in a camouflage uniform holding an urban combat version of the M-35 assault gun.
Logan, Cap and Lena raised their hands above their heads. “Now get down on the ground. Face down.” The three of them complied with the command.
Three more Red Leg soldiers arrived, weapons drawn. “Secure their hands,” said one of the Red Legs. Logan looked up from the ground and saw the soldier was a sergeant in the Republican Special Forces.
One of the soldiers knelt down and placed his knee between Logan’s shoulder blades. He pulled Logan’s hands behind his back and bound them with a plastic cord. He repeated the process with Cap and Lena.
“Private Sands,” said the Red Leg sergeant as he looked down the trail at the boulder. “Take a look down there and make sure it’s clear.”
The Red Leg private dashed down the trail until he reached the boulder. He peered around it. Then he raised his M-35 and fired three quick bursts.
After a few moments, the sergeant called for him to return.
“Hit anything?”
“Maybe,” said the private. “Thought I saw some Travelers. They won’t bother us.”
They searched all three prisoners and discovered the sphere in Logan’s coat pocket and the medallion in another pocket. The sergeant looked at the sphere with mild curiosity, then put it in the thigh pocket of his camo pants. He put the medallion in a breast pocket. They pulled the three prisoners to their feet and marched them back up the trail toward the road. The sergeant and Private Sands were in the lead, followed by Logan, Cap, and Lena. The two remaining soldiers were behind Lena.
Walking behind the sergeant, Logan could see his battle pack had seen a lot of use. There were scrapes and gashes near the opening of the slot into which the M34 was tucked. Its stock pointed out the bottom of the pack, allowing the soldier to reach back and pull it out with ease. A sword handle extended from the top of the pack behind the sergeant’s right shoulder.
“Private Sands, take point. Twenty meters up,” said the sergeant.
“Yes, sergeant,” said the soldier in front. He trotted ahead, using his flashlight to scan the surrounding trees.
“Where are you taking us, Sergeant Red Legs?” asked Cap.
“Where I’m told to take you,” replied the sergeant.
“Alive, I hope,” said Cap.
“If possible, but my orders are a little vague on the subject.”
Lena cleared her throat. “Shouldn’t you be at the border? I mean, it’s strange that the RSF was mobilized to chase us down. Usually a job for the SPD, isn’t it?”
The sergeant said nothing.
“Must have been a nuisance when the order came to hunt for a few runaways,” she continued. “You were probably done for the day, relaxing, drinking a beer.”
“Private Miller,” said the sergeant.
“Yes, Sergeant Lezad,” answered the soldier behind Lena.
“Instruct the prisoner to remain quiet. If the prisoner speaks again you have permission to silence her.”
The soldier said, “Yes, sergeant.” He struck Lena in the back of her head with the butt of his M-35 and yelled, “The prisoner will remain quiet!”
The unexpected blow caused Lena to stumble forward a few steps and crash into Cap’s back, but she managed to stay on her feet.
“Is that standard RSF training?” asked Logan, his throat tight with anger.
The sergeant stopped in his tracks. He turned and stood toe to toe with Logan. “Listen up, prisoner. Your mama clearly nursed you too long, so allow me to explain how shit works.”
He gave Logan a swift punch in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of his lungs and causing him to double over. Logan dropped to one knee and gasped for breath.
Lezad put his hands on his hips and addressed all three prisoners. “Now, I am being exceedingly patient with you because I need you three to be in good enough condition to walk out of these woods. However, your behavior will determine how well you will be treated when we have reached our vehicle. You are enemies of the Republic. You’ve got no rights and I can do whatever the hell I want to you. Remember that.”
He nudged Logan with his boot. “Get to your feet, Nancy.”
As Logan stood up, Lezad said, “I believe I’ve made myself clear on this subject. Now let’s move.”
They walked in silence for another ten minutes until they emerged from the tree line behind the abandoned homes and still-smoldering fire pit. “Private Sands, why haven’t you started the MPV?” asked Lezad in a tired voice.
Private Sands, who was seated behind the wheel of an armored vehicle, leaned out the open door and yelled, “Won’t start, sergeant.”
“Shit,” said Lezad. “Private Sands, radio for backup, then get up on the 50 cal. Keep an eye out for Travelers. Lee and Miller, keep an eye on these three pieces of shit.”
The sergeant walked to the MPV and unlatched the heavy clasps holding down the hood. He lifted the hood and propped it open. Using his flashlight, he examined the engine. After a moment he saw the problem; the fuel pump relay was disconnected. He reattached it and closed the hood. Then he walked to the driver’s seat and hit the ignition button. The MPV started with a deep rumbling sound.
Lezad turned toward the tree line and slowly scanned it for threats. Then he said, “Private Miller, load the prisoners.”
Just as he finished speaking, he heard a whistling sound as something flew out of the woods and over his head. It hit something with a dull thud. He turned to see Private Sands gripping an arrow protruding from his chest. Sands struggled to remove it for a moment, then slumped forward over the 50 caliber gun. A second arrow hit Private Lee’s thigh. He dropped to the ground screaming.
“Shields!” yelled Sergeant Lezad as he pressed a button on his bracer to activate his antiballistic shield. Miller did the same and ran to the side of the MPV, dropping to one knee and pointing his weapon toward the trees.
Caught between the Red Legs and whoever was firing the arrows from the trees, Logan, Lena and Cap dropped to the ground and lay flat.
“They’re using arrows,” said Lezad. “Set your shields high. It’ll slow your reaction time, but at least you won’t have a stick in your guts.”
“Yes, Sergeant,” said Miller.
Another arrow flew out of the woods and struck Lezad in the ribs. He felt a slight pressure at the point of impact, but the arrow failed to penetrate the soldier’s shield. With an effort, he raised his M-35 and fired a burst into the trees where he thought the arrow had come from.
“Miller, get on the 50-cal and light these woods up!”
Before Private Miller could comply with the order, a dark figure in a long black coat emerged from the shadows of the forest, a sword in one hand and a long dagger in the other. Both soldiers opened fire on the figure, but the slugs were deflected. Seeing the occasional light shimmering of their opponent’s shield as each bullet struck, Lezad dropped his M-35 and reduced his shield’s rigidity back to its normal setting. Miller followed his example.
“Well fuck me with electricity,” said Lezad. “A Traveler with a sword and shield. What dead soldier did you pull those off of?”
The sergeant slipped his M-35 into its slot in his battle pack. Then he reached his right hand over
his shoulder and drew his sword. He swung the blade in front of him a few times then pointed a taunting finger at the stranger. He snapped his left hand and a guard emerged from the bracer, its thin metal plates quickly locking into place around his forearm and top of his hand.
Still lying on the ground, Logan turned his head toward the woods. The man in the long black coat slowly approached the Red Leg soldiers, passing by Logan and the others without looking at them. From his position on the ground, Logan could not see the man’s face very well, but he seemed to be grinning, like a wolf approaching easy prey.
Logan looked back at the two Red Legs still standing. The sergeant seemed to have decided that the stranger was more formidable than he had first thought. He approached with a veteran’s recognition of potential danger. By contrast, Miller was a little unnerved by the stranger’s demeanor and bounced his sword up and down as he walked forward.
When they were within a few steps from each other, the stranger made a feint toward Lezad, then turned toward Miller and swung his sword. Miller blocked the attack with his blade, but he was too slow to block the man’s dagger, which sliced his sword arm below the shoulder.
Miller cried out and fell back just as Lezad attacked with a series of rapid strikes, which the stranger parried while retreating. The two men paused, each assessing the other’s ability. The stranger took a step forward and thrust with his sword. The sergeant deflected the blade, but the stranger’s attack was followed by another and another. He kept attacking using quick slices and thrusts, never slowing down, never giving Lezad a chance to counterattack. Finally, the stranger’s sword hit its mark, slicing Lezad’s leg, causing him to collapse to the ground.
As Lezad was falling, Miller attacked from behind with his sword upraised. The stranger blocked the downward stroke with his dagger and slammed the pummel of his sword into Miller’s face, causing him to fall backward to the ground. The stranger took two steps toward the stunned private and slammed his boot into his head, knocking him unconscious.
The Navigator (The Apollo Stone Trilogy Book 1) Page 13