The Amtrak Wars: Blood River

by Patrick Tilley

  Steve appraised her thoughtfully. ‘You know what? I think all this guff you’ve been laying on me about Us and Them, who did what to who, and whether you can trust me or not is pure buffalo shit. This is really about Kelso, isn’t it? You’ve got it into your head that if we can get him aboard The Lady – ’

  ‘What other chance does he have?’ cried Jodi. ‘C’mon! There’s a complete combat surgical team riding around in that blood-wagon! If we could arrange for a pick-up, they could get to work within minutes of him getting there!’

  Steve glanced over at Kelso. He hadn’t moved.

  Maybe he was dead. Some chance. Good ol’ Dave wasn’t the kind of guy who’d do everyone a favour by going quietly …

  He turned back to Jodi. ‘They could, but now you’re kidding yourself. You know as well as I do they’re not gonna put Kelso on the operating table. They’re gonna put three rounds into his brain. He’s a renegade, remember?’

  ‘You’re wrong. He isn’t …’

  Steve frowned. ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘He’s an undercover Fed. Just like you.’ She watched Steve trying to grapple with this revelation. ‘You don’t believe me, do you?’

  ‘How long have you known about this?’

  ‘Since we left Long Point. D’you remember me coming back from the beach store ahead of Dave and how we sat there with the motors running wondering where the hell he’d got to?’

  ‘Yeah …’

  ‘Well, while I was cursing him with every name I could think of, I fiddled around with a few of the knobs and switches and … I accidentally turned on the tail end of a radio transmission.’

  ‘Go on …’

  ‘It was Dave.’

  ‘You sure about this?’

  ‘Absolutely. He was talking to Sky Bucket Three, the same bunch your friend with the lumps in his face got in touch with just after we landed at Long Point.’

  ‘Did you manage to get a handle on what Kelso and this Sky Bucket were talking about?’

  ‘Not really. Skybucket was relaying instructions from someone called Mother. That make any sense to you?’

  Steve’s face gave nothing away. ‘A little …’

  ‘Mother’ was the soubriquet coined by AMEXICO operatives for Karlstrom. It had entered their private language over a generation ago and had proved so popular, the then Operations Director had allowed it to supersede his official code-name MX-ONE. Karlstrom, who appreciated its shades of meaning, had continued the tradition.

  ‘Did Kelso use a code-name?’

  ‘Yes, Rat-Catcher …’

  Steve absorbed Jodi’s revelations calmly. There was little to be gained by being angry. ‘Why’d’you wait till now to tell me about this?’

  Jodi hesitated then said: ‘It seemed like the right time. Let’s face it, we’ve had more important things to think about over the last few days. Cadillac was always around and, well, I was …’

  ‘Confused …?’

  ‘Yeah. Truth is, I didn’t know what to think. I was surprised, naturally. I’d spent nearly a year on the run with Dave. Okay, at times he could be a pain in the ass but I’d gotten pretty close to him. I thought he was genuine. But then … I thought you were too. A little mixed-up, perhaps, decking yourself out as a Mute. But when we met up again in Ne-Issan and you finally came clean and told me you were an undercover Fed, plus all that other shit – like your thing with the Herald –’

  She waved it all away. ‘I’m just a simple, straight down the line type person, Brickman. With all the deals you had going there were times when I lost track of who was shafting who. My first reaction – after I’d recovered from the surprise – was to think that maybe you and Dave were in cahoots, but working both sides of the track.’

  Steve nodded. ‘Yes, I can see how you might think that …’

  ‘Then we ran out of fuel and the way Dave acted made me think that maybe you didn’t know what he was up to. By which time he’d picked a tree to run into and broken half the bones in his body.’

  ‘So you started feeling sorry for him …’

  ‘What was the point of telling you? You might have tried to shoot him there and then!’

  Steve’s anger rose. ‘What makes you think I won’t do it now?!’

  Jodi grabbed hold of him. ‘Because you don’t have to, and I won’t let you! What harm can he do now? The poor bastard can barely move!’

  ‘So what do you care? I just don’t get it, Jodi. He helped get us into this mess. Why are you trying to protect him?’

  ‘For the same reason when you were tied to a post face to face with a corpse, I persuaded Malone to let me come back and cut you loose! Because I cared! And Dave cared enough to come with me! The same way you cared enough to get me out of Ne-Issan – or was that because Dave and I were needed to make up the numbers?’

  ‘No! I meant it! I promised to get you out and I did. We’re all from Big Blue, right?’

  ‘Exactly. We’re the best. That’s why I want to do what’s right for both of you.’

  ‘Go ahead. I’m listening …’

  ‘If those planes come over again I’m gonna let ’em know that Dave and I are down here. And if they ask where you are, I’m gonna say that you, Cadillac and Clearwater never came back from a hunting trip. That you were probably captured by a bunch of Mutes and the only reason I escaped was because I stayed behind to look after Dave.’ Jodi paused. ‘How does it sound so far?’

  ‘Keep talking …’

  ‘I’ll probably have to tell them you’d talked about trying to get to Wyoming – but that everyone could forget about that now because if you weren’t already dead, you probably soon would be.’ She shrugged. ‘Mutes kill anyone who invades their turf, right?’

  ‘Right…’

  ‘Of course, I won’t say anything about all that stuff Clearwater did at the Heron Pool. They probably wouldn’t believe it anyway. And besides, talking about Mute magic’s a Code One offence.’

  Steve waited a while. ‘Is that it …?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Aren’t you forgetting one thing? Kelso might be an undercover Fed but you ran with a bunch of breakers for over a year. What do you think they’re gonna do, Jodi – pin a life-saving medal on your chest? You’ve seen too much and you know too much. If they take you back to Fort Worth you’ll probably end up against the wall.’

  ‘I know. But that’s the only way I can save both your asses. Two lives for one.’ She grimaced ruefully. That’s not such a bad percentage.’

  ‘This is crazy. There must be some other way to get Kelso on board and keep you off the –’

  ‘No!’ Jodi grasped Steve’s wrist firmly. ‘I want to go in.’ She searched his eyes for some sign of encouragement and drew a blank. ‘I know it looks as if I’m running out on you but ..,’ she paused awkwardly, ‘… this is the best chance I’m ever going to get to straighten things out.’

  ‘Then take it. With the top deck of The Lady on your case you should come out cleaner than the P-G’s underwear.’

  ‘It’d be nice to think so but if I draw a ticket to the wall I’ll go quietly and say my piece. I’ve had enough, Brickman.’ Her mouth twisted into a tired smile. ‘Once upon a time I believed in the Federation – that the First Family could do no wrong. Then Dave and Malone and Medicine Hat showed me another whole new way of living, feeling and thinking and I believed that too.

  ‘I realized we’d been fed a whole pack of lies only to discover that Dave – one of the guys who saved my life – wasn’t for real either. I don’t hate him for it. But it made me realize there ain’t no truth to be found anywhere, Brickman. So you might as well pick the most comfortable lie and live with it.’

  ‘I think you’re wrong but I know what you mean.’ Steve sighed with genuine regret. ‘It’s your decision, Jodi. So where do we go from here?’

  ‘Well … before I do anything rash, maybe I should talk things over with Dave.’

  ‘Leave that to me,’ said Steve. He saw the f
licker of alarm in her eyes. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to give him a hard time. I’m pretty sure he went along with you because he wanted to see which way I’d jump. He probably had orders not to make contact. The high wires who run this scummy business back in Grand Central have some strange ideas. They don’t like us guys at the sharp end getting too friendly with one another.’

  Jodi nodded. ‘Tell me something …’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘When we were crossing Lake Erie. If Dave and I hadn’t told you we didn’t want to go back in, what were you planning to do?’

  ‘I’d have taken you out with the gas just like the others,’ said Steve.

  Jodi checked the sky for herself then stood up and moved out into the open. She looked back at Steve. ‘When the new intake came aboard The Lady in ‘89, Big D told me you were the one to watch. I’m not surprised they made you an undercover Fed.’

  Steve shrugged modestly. There hadn’t been a plan. From the moment they’d boarded the wheelboat for Bu-faro he’d been playing it by ear. Plagued by divided loyalties, his mental confusion had steadily increased until Roz had come through on their own private line with the reassurance he needed. But given their present perilous situation this was not the moment to reveal any hint of weakness or indecision. If Jodi was convinced he was ten moves ahead of everyone else in the game, why spoil the illusion?

  Chapter Five

  For the wingmen aboard The Lady from Louisiana, the second day produced more encouraging results. The primary search area had been assailed by new snow flurries overnight but the accompanying wind, which sculpted the landscape into a new pattern of knife-edged dunes and hollows, blew most of the accumulated snow from the abandoned Skyriders.

  They were spotted by the afternoon patrol led by Nate Stinson. He had been Deputy Section-Leader aboard Sands of Iwojima before being transferred and moving up a notch into the post that Jodi had held aboard The Lady. Stinson radioed news of the find to Hartmann then, after all four pilots had made a low-level check on the area, he detailed Vickers to land and examine the crash site.

  The wingman, one of two on the present patrol whose aircraft had been fitted with ski attachments wasn’t too thrilled at having drawn the short straw but there was nothing he could do except say ‘Roger, Wilco’. He put down alongside the remains of the highway and taxied back to where one of the Skyriders still stood more or less upright with its wheels buried in the snow.

  Leaving his motor running, in case he needed to make a quick getaway, Vickers made his way towards it. The wind had cleared patches of the crumbling highway but the vegetation on the overgrown slopes had trapped the snow beneath an icy crust.

  This was Vickers’ second operational tour but, up to this moment, he had only ever set down on the flight-deck of the wagon-train. Well, that was not quite true. He had made four touch and go landings to try out the skis but this was the first time he had actually walked more than ten yards on Plainfolk territory and prior to crossing the Missouri he had never, in his whole life, seen so much snow before. Pressing ahead on the blithe assumption it was all ankle deep he crashed through the brittle surface and sank in over his knees. Recovering from his initial surprise, he attempted to resume the purposeful stride with which he’d left the Skyhawk but was quickly reduced to an ungainly waddle by the buried tangle of roots and stalks that kept trapping his feet.

  Goddamn fuggin’ overground … First Family wanted their brains examining … who’d wanna live in an asshole place like this?

  It was not all that far to the highway, but by the time he reached it, Vickers had run out of obscene swear words to heap upon the heads of the shit-brained high-wires who had dreamt up this operation.

  From the air, the plane had appeared to be undamaged, but as he drew closer, Vickers saw that the Skyrider had been reduced to a mere shell. A horde of scavenging Mutes, working with the same expertise that desert vultures bring to the job of removing the edible parts of a dead camel, had picked the metal carcass clean: seats, cables, control rods and wires, instruments, hatches, parts of the canopy, every square inch of fabric and anything that could be unscrewed, unpicked or torn loose had vanished.

  An examination of the snow-covered debris wrapped around the nosewheel revealed that this Skyrider had ploughed into the severed tail section of its companion during its landing run. Vickers used his walkie-talkie to report his findings to his airborne companions then climbed back into his ’hawk and taxied eastwards till he came opposite the last of the trees where the forward half of the other aircraft had come to rest.

  This too had been stripped but a close inspection provided some useful clues. Smears of dried blood on the jagged ends of metal stringers and formers in the crumpled cockpit section testified to the force of the impact and the likelihood that one of the five people they were looking for had been either killed or seriously injured on landing.

  Beneath the broken starboard wing, Vickers found – like Izo before him – the remains of a fire. The pine branches that Steve’s party had woven together to form the walls of the shelter had been thrown aside and scattered but several remained intertwined giving a clue to their use. The fire-cans and food tins – which might have told him a great deal more than they told Izo – had been carried away as trophies but the scattered circle of ashes and a solitary ring pull-tab from a standard-issue ration can suggested that the surviving crewmen had spent some time under shelter before vanishing into the snow-covered wastes.

  Whether they had vanished of their own accord or had been overwhelmed by the same force of Mutes who had descended on the two aircraft in search of booty could not be established. Backing clear of the tree under which the wreckage lay, Vickers gave his section-leader a status report and his views on what had happened.

  ‘Roger, Blue Two. Well done. Put some sky under your wheels.’

  They were the words Vickers had been waiting for. He hurried back across the highway and waded up the other side to where he’d parked his Skyhawk facing into wind. He didn’t waste time brushing off the snow or strapping himself in. He just rammed the throttle wide open and held his breath until he had regained the comparative safety of the air. The audible sigh of relief came as the altimeter showed the Skyhawk at five hundred feet and climbing.

  Made it … Yeeee-HAAAHH!

  Fresh snowfalls and cloudy skies limited the air search during The Lady’s third day on station. The flight-section were stood down but the remaining two hundred and sixty crew plus the Pueblo contingent found themselves with plenty to do. Following the discovery of the two Skyriders, Hartmann had decided to press forward to Davenport. The move, when completed, would extend the Skyhawks’ range by another one hundred and forty miles, allowing them more time in the air east of the Mississippi.

  Several squads of heavily armed line-men, dressed in the white coveralls that had been airlifted to the Kansas City rendezvous with the tanker-train, were sent out to reconnoitre a twenty-mile stretch of the Cedar River. When a suitable crossing point had been found, The Lady moved forward and unloaded the two bull-dozers she carried. Under the direction of Buck McDonnell, they began the task of cutting an access ramp down to the water. Lt. Commander Moore, the senior Field Officer had already put two combat squads onto the east bank to form a bridgehead and the usual perimeter defence that was always deployed when the crew were ‘shifting dirt’ was set up around the wagon-train.

  The river at this point was only six to eight feet deep over a firm gravel bed which meant The Lady could roll across without even getting her belly wet. The crossing was delayed when the engineers decided they would have to use explosives to blast loose the rocks buried in the escarpment on the far side but just after dawn on the fourth day, the ’dozers had cut the required exit ramp and The Lady was on her way to Davenport.

  The increasing numbers of arrowheads criss-crossing the sky did not go unnoticed by Cadillac’s hosts. The settlement had not come under attack, but having watched several blue and white Skyha
wks pass almost directly overhead, Carnegie-Hall, the Kojak wordsmith, became sufficiently concerned to ask his honoured guests if the appearance of the cloud-warriors and the attendant iron snake was linked to their own descent from the skies.

  Cadillac who, from the outset, had been anxious to leave Carnegie and the Kojak elders in no doubt that he and Clearwater were the stars of the select group the clan had been eagerly expecting, ignored her warning glance and answered in the affirmative.

  Having already held the clan spellbound with his faultless command of the Iron Masters’ language and his graphic descriptions of life at all levels in Ne-Issan, he now revealed that Clearwater was a summoner who held the key to several Rings of Power.

  Hey-yahhh …

  Like all wordsmiths, Cadillac could not resist the lure of a receptive audience – especially when the story he was telling enhanced his own importance. Let the elders of the Clan Kojak mark this! He, Cadillac, son of Sky-Walker out of Black-Wing and she, daughter of Thunder-Bird out of Sun-Dance, had been born in the shadow of The Thrice-Gifted One. And Mr Snow – who was known and respected by his peers through the annual gatherings at the trading post – had declared them to be the Sword and Shield of Talisman!

  And had not the M’Calls, the paramount clan of the She-Kargo, caused nine cloud-warriors to fall from the sky before forcing the first iron snake to venture into Plainfolk territory to turn tail and flee? Cadillac described the parts he and Clearwater had played in that great victory, allying their powers to those possessed by Mr Snow – The Storm-Bringer.

  Carnegie-Hall and the elders roared their approval. In truth these were mighty deeds!

  But there was more, declared Cadillac. And with his audience hanging on every word he went on to describe how, before leaving the eastern lands, they and their three companions had dealt the Iron Masters a mortal blow, killing mighty warlords and decimating their armies with sky-fire and earth thunder.

  Hey-yahhh …