by R. L. Wolf
"The Gunslingers must have built the reservoir to supply water to all the camps."
Jack walked onto the earthen dam and had to stop about a hundred feet out, the lake was so swollen the rain was now lapping over the top of the dam. Some places had grooves worn into the dam by the water, and the lake was spilling over the top. He stared at the stream of water pouring through the groove in the dam.
Jack felt the tremor again. It was strong enough that he had to kneel to steady himself. He crawled over to the side and looked down at the river far below. His blood turned cold, and a shiver ran down his spine.
"The dam is breaking,” whispered Jack. A long crack zigzagged down the side of the dam and water was pouring through at several points.
Jack looked back in the direction the outlook cabin was. The cabin was uphill from here; it was safe. The water would follow the flow of the canyon river. He looked at the map and found the river that led down the mountain from the lake.
"Oh no! The river goes right through Camp 25."
Jack remembered Camp 25. He had walked past it on his Death Walk. A Gunslinger student had come down to give him water and tell him he was close to the camp he was looking for. The Camp 25 Camp Deputy had tried to stop the Gunslinger from giving Jack a drink, but the student Gunslinger had faced down the Deputy and given Jack the water.
"If this dam breaks it will kill everyone in Camp 25.” Jack crawled back from the edge of the dam. "I won't let my friend die."
He glanced back up the hill towards the lookout cabin as an even stronger tremor ran through the dam. The crack opened wider, and a fresh stream of water flowed through.
"There isn't enough time to get the team, and the radio is broken anyway. I’ll have to follow the river and try to get to Camp 25 before the dam breaks.”
Jack shoved the map in his pocket and pulled off his duster. The heavy coat would only slow him down. He ran back over to the edge of the dam and dropped his duster on the ground. He turned back to the dam, spread his arms and sprinted along the edge until he reached the center. He leaped into the air. Jack couldn’t fly without his glider wings, but he could fall with grace. His feet touched the angled slope of the dam every ten or twenty feet as he fell towards the river.
Jack kept his arms spread out and ran down the side of the dam. The river was coming up fast, and Jack had to cross through several streams of water spraying out from the cracks in the dam. The water was very cold.
Fifty feet from the bottom, he pushed off hard with his legs and leaped out into the air, and dived into the river. The current pulled him under the foaming white water. He couldn't see, couldn't tell which way was up. The river swept him away, and his lungs burned for air as he clawed for the surface. Several times he was slammed against a rock, and once he was sure he was being pulled along the bottom.
His lungs felt as if they would explode, and just as suddenly, his head broke the surface of the raging water. He gasped for air. Jack tried to fight the current at first until he realized swimming was like flying. He flipped over and used his legs to absorb the impact against a boulder. The river pulled him around, and he pushed off, and "flew" through the water to the next boulder, then again, and again.
Jack stayed in the river as long as he could, swim-flying from boulder to boulder, but the river was taking its toll on him. He was exhausted and cold. He needed to get out of the water. It took several attempts to reach the edge of the river before he was able to scramble up the side of a rocky sandbar.
Jack collapsed, panting. He rolled over to see how far he had gone. He couldn't see the dam.
"It had to have been a couple of miles at least," thought Jack. He couldn't have known the river had already carried him four miles.
Jack got up and started running. He ran where it was clear of rocks and underbrush, and jumped from boulder to boulder where the river narrowed. Jack ran, and his legs burned from exertion. He needed to go faster and decided to chance the river again. He leaped into the water and let the current sweep him along. Exhaustion set in again after a couple of miles, and he crawled back up on the bank of the angry river. He ran until his legs burned, then had the thought to use a log in the river to help him stay afloat.
Jack alternated between swimming and running. His legs didn’t hurt anymore—they were numb. He stumbled through the forest, unable to even feel his feet. The ground began to flatten out. He was no longer on the steep slope of the mountain.
Jack was starting to worry he may have run past the camp. All he wanted to do now was lay down and sleep. He didn’t realize he was suffering from hypothermia.
“Hey, where did you come from?” asked a blurry voice, grabbing him as he stumbled through the trees. He looked up and saw the camp cabins. He didn't have time to try and explain himself. He twisted away from the person that was holding him and sprinted towards the cluster of buildings.
He ran past several teams, all staring at the soaked and ragged looking Daraian running through their Camp. He tripped over the steps to the Camp Deputy’s Office, landing painfully on his arm. He pushed himself up, and without bothering to knock, shoved the door open. The Camp Deputy was sitting at a table in the center of the room grading test papers. The Deputy jumped to his feet and drew his revolver.
"What are you doing?” demanded the Deputy.
Jack ignored the Deputy and slammed his fist against a red button on the wall. The Roll-Call horn sounded, calling the students to the field. Regardless of where any student was, or what they were doing, they would come to the sound of the horn.
The Deputy advanced on Jack.
Jack held his hands up, and then his legs gave out, and he fell back against the wall and slipped to the ground.
The Deputy knelt next to Jack.
"Explain yourself," ordered the Deputy.
"I'm from Camp 26, on Northern Patrol duty," whispered Jack. "The dam is breaking, it's..." Jack didn't get to finish, a loud thundering crack like the explosion of dynamite sounded through the camp.
The Deputy looked out the door at the assembling students, grabbed Jack and picked him up, and pressed another button next to the door. An air raid siren blared through the camp. The Deputy ran outside to the gathering students. The air raid horn would bring the teachers as well.
"To the airfield!" shouted the Deputy. A group of the teacher Deputies ran up to find out what was happening. "Get to the stables," ordered the Deputy. "Take the horses and ride out into the desert, hurry!"
The Camp Deputy threw Jack over his shoulder and followed the students to the airfield. Jack was on the flight deck with the Deputy as the last of the students loaded into the two transport ships and three Dart ships. The ships were crowded to standing room only as they lifted off. Jack watched with the Deputy as a path of tall pines disappeared under the flash flood from the reservoir and swept through the camp.
The Deputy looked at the small exhausted Daraian Merit. "Who are you, boy?"
"Merit Blackjack, sir," answered Jack.
"I remember you, but you’ve put on weight, I didn’t recognize you,” said the Deputy. "You’re the Blackjack that walked two-hundred miles to find a new team, and you just ran eighteen miles to save the lives of the people that wouldn’t give you a drink of water when you were dying?"
"No, sir," said Jack. "I'm the Blackjack that ran eighteen miles to save the life of my friend, the Gunslinger that did give me a drink of water."
"Your friend is on this transport," said the Deputy
The Deputy called the student up to the flight deck. Jack felt the same pounding in his chest as the night she had given him a drink of water—she was so beautiful. Jack told her the story of his run down the mountain.
"You saved us because I gave you a drink of water?” she asked.
"It was a kindness no one else would give me," said Jack.
"Thank you. My name is Cerae. I'm from Hawk Province."
“I know,” said Jack, blushing and looking at his feet. “I lived on the border w
here Sparrow, Raven, and Hawk Province come together. I always liked the Hawks. They kept the Ravens from bothering us.”
“My hatching father might know your family,” said Cerae. “He’s on the Border Patrol that keeps the peace.”
The Camp Deputy looked at the two young Daraians before turning to stare out the window at his flooded camp. A relationship between a Gunslinger and a Merit was forbidden, but Daraians in the Gunslinger Order were rare, and Jack had just saved the Camp—he would tell nobody. He smiled; there wouldn’t be much he could do to keep them apart anyway. He knew how Daraians selected their mates, and it was already too late. The night Cerae had given Jack the water, their minds must have impressed and bonded. Jack would have run through burning flames to save the girl.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Broken Dam
Colt was thrown from his bed as an explosion rippled through the forest, followed by the roaring of what Colt was sure had to be an aircraft crashing into the cabin.
"Toran!" Colt shouted over the sound of the roaring.
"Everyone get out!" yelled Toran.
Colt crawled out into the main room as the floorboards buckled upward. Cups and plates shattered to the ground in the pantry, and shards of glass from the windows rained down in the cabin.
Garth crashed through the door, looking for his team just as Toran and Wes staggered out of their bedroom, dragging their gear with them. The cabin settled it’s rocking motion, but the roaring sound continued.
"Where's Jack?" shouted Colt.
"Maybe he's outside," said Toran.
"He didn't go out the back door,” yelled Garth.
Wes stopped at the big round table in the center of the room to retrieve the map, but it was missing, and there was no time to look for it, the ceiling was beginning to sag. Wes ran after the others.
"The map is missing," shouted Wes.
"Blast the Father’s beard,” swore Garth. “Jack might have gone to the lake to explore."
"Did a spaceship crash?" yelled Toran.
"The Caelum might be attacking again," shouted Garth, leveling his guns at the trees.
"Does this count as something unusual?" shouted Wes.
Colt glared. "Let's just find Jack," shouted Colt. He turned and sprinted toward the lake. He didn't know what he would find, perhaps Toran was right, and a transport ship might have crashed.
The path split and Colt started down the lower path. Wes called out to stop, and Colt paused to look back.
"This one," Wes pointed. "I think we better stay to the high ground."
Colt looked back down the hill. Jack would have taken the downhill path toward the lake. Colt shook his head and ran down the hill. The path ended abruptly at the edge of a flood of water. Entire uprooted trees floated past. Colt had to turn around and go back to the fork in the path.
Wes glared at Colt.
"Not a word," shouted Colt.
The uphill path led to an open area around the shore of a lake.
"Look," shouted Garth. "There's a dam."
The dam didn't look right. The entire middle of it was gone, and the lake was pouring through, filling the canyon below with a wall of water.
"The dam broke," said Colt.
The boys sprinted along the edge of the broken dam, scanning frantically for any sign of Jack. A sickening feeling grew in Colt’s gut. A fear so deep and primal covered him until he could think of nothing else. He ran blindly toward the broken dam, screaming Jack’s name. Toran ran after him.
Garth ran along the edge of the lake and saw it first. Jack's duster lay on the ground next to the edge of the dam. Garth looked out at the broken dam. There was only one reason Jack's duster would be here. Garth knelt and picked up the small duster. He bent his head, then stood and looked up at the darkened sky. Garth let out a roar that cut over the sound of the rushing water.
The other three stopped and looked back at the giant roaring at the heavens. Toran’s eyes dropped to the small duster in Garth’s hands. He fell to his knees in the mud, his mind barely able to comprehend the unthinkable.
Wes walked to Garth and took the duster from his paw-like hands. He held the duster for only a moment before he spun and stared at Colt through the rain.
“You murderer!” screamed Wes. “How many of us will you kill? Am I next!”
Colt walked slowly to Wes and held out his hand. Wes threw the duster at Colt and turned away.
"No... No...” whispered Colt. "No… Maybe it's not his." Colt searched the faces of his Merits, hoping they would tell him it was someone else's duster.
Toran stood and came to the group, then looked out at the broken dam, water was pouring through, destroying everything in its path.
"He dropped his duster here, and went out to explore the dam,” said Toran. “He was out there when it broke."
"Not even a Daraian could escape this," said Garth, his words barely more than a low growl. “Jack's dead."
Wes spun back around and with no warning, balled his hand into a fist and struck Colt in the jaw. Colt fell back to the ground.
Wes drew his revolver. "You murdered him!"
Garth tackled Wes and pushed his arm enough that the bullet went wild, striking the ground to the side of Colt.
Colt's mind was numb and didn't draw his revolver to defend himself. Garth took the revolver from Wes.
"There's another camp down there, they wouldn't have had any warning," said Toran.
"It's my fault," said Colt, blood pouring from his lip. "I should have sent someone back the moment I saw the tower had fallen over, and again when I knew the radio was dead. I was so tired. I wasn't thinking. I've killed Jack and everyone in that camp."
Garth saw it just in time, Colt's eyes flickered, and his shoulders tensed. Garth pushed Wes aside and jumped on Colt just as his hand reached for his revolver. Garth held the grief-stricken Gunslinger in a bear hug while Colt screamed in grief.
"Take his guns," shouted Garth.
Toran didn't understand what was happening, only that Garth was wrestling with Colt on the ground.
"His guns!" Garth repeated. "Take them, hurry."
Toran realized what Garth was saying and dropped on the ground in front of Colt, but didn't take his guns. He grabbed Colt by the shoulders and shook him.
"Stop it!" screamed Toran. "Is this what you want for us? We'll be alone, and they'll send us to that prison. Who would ever take us after our Gunslinger took his own life?"
Colt stopped screaming and looked Toran in the eyes. "I lost another Merit," sobbed Colt.
"We lost another brother too," said Garth. "We all feel the pain."
Colt glanced around for Wes. He was kneeling in the mud, rocking back and forth.
"Let me go," said Colt.
Garth didn't let go, but Toran laid a hand on Garth's arm. "Let him up," said Toran.
Colt crawled to Wes and held his hand out. "I'm sorry."
Wes pushed his hand away. "I don’t want to be on your team anymore," said Wes.
Colt nodded his head. “I’ll release you from your oath.”
The boys sat in the mud while the rain poured down on them. They never heard the Dart ship land over the roar of the water and their grief.
"What's going on here?"
Colt and the others looked up—the Marshal and his four Deputies stood looking down at the four mud soaked boys sitting on the ground weeping. Garth held up the small duster, but couldn't say the words.
"Jack is dead," said Toran.
"Why do you believe Jack is dead?” asked the Marshal.
"He left the cabin to explore the lake while we were sleeping," explained Toran. "We found his duster next to the dam. He was out in the middle when it broke."
"Ah, now I see what happened," said the Marshal. "Jack is not dead."
Colt stared at the Marshal, uncomprehending.
"You said you found his duster next to the dam. Why would he drop his duster on the ground just to explore out on the dam? No, he would onl
y drop it if he needed to shed the extra weight, and leave a message behind. Common sense should have told you that."
"I don't understand," said Colt.
"Jack is very much alive, and a hero," explained the Marshal. "He saw the dam was breaking, left his duster as a message for you, and ran eighteen miles down the mountain to warn Camp 25."
Colt and the others looked at each other, the news that Jack was alive, of what happened. They were in shock and didn't know how to respond.
"It's time for you to leave phase one," said the Marshal. "You've learned all you can here. The transport ship, and Jack will meet you at the rendezvous point."
The Marshal turned to walk back to his Dart ship.
Colt jumped up. "Where's the rendezvous point?"
David, the Marshal's First Deputy, shouted back. "At the same place it dropped you off for phase one, of course."
"That's forty miles away!" yelled Colt.
"Better hurry," shouted David.
The Marshal and his Deputies left the boys standing in the rain looking at each other.
A little over ten hours later, four tired and very angry boys approached the place where the transport ship had dropped them off nearly a year ago. The sun was down, and there was a campfire. The smell of cooking rabbit permeated the air, and a comfortable looking Jack sat on a rock munching on the rabbit.
Jack stood up as his team arrived.
"Hi guys," said Jack. "I hope I didn’t make you worry… guys… guys?"
The four boys advanced on Jack.
"Wait, guys... I can explain," said Jack, jumping down from the rock, and taking a step back.
Jack's brothers chased him around in circles for the next fifteen minutes until the transport ship arrived.
The Marshal stood at the edge of the trees, watching out over the desert as the transport ship lifted to orbit. Deputy Hargrath stood next to the Marshal.
"Where are you sending them?” asked Deputy Hargrath.
"I'm sending them to a prison we haven't used in a very long time."
"The island?”
"Yes, Fox doesn’t know where the island is, they will be safe there, for a time."