Carl moaned and buried his face in his hands.
Chapter Thirteen
The steam engine pulled to a stop and wheezed heavily. Carl and Chester, their hands tied behind them, were prodded off the train; the four officers and two extra captains they had asked to join them stayed right behind. A few civilians had come out between the cars to watch, but the officers had waved them back inside. “This is a military matter,” the major had yelled. “You people stay inside. Watch from the windows, if you want.”
Chester’s face had been washed, and a clean handkerchief wound around his forehead. “Every man, even a Yankee spy, deserves to die with a clean face,” the major had decided.
They led their prisoners over to a convenient grove of trees and stood them together, guarded by the lieutenant, while they tried to decide which tree to use for the ceremony.
“I didn’t realize that a hanging was such a complex affair,” Chester remarked to Carl as they stood shoulder to shoulder.
“You shut up!” the lieutenant barked.
“My, you certainly do take your responsibilities seriously,” Chester told him.
“I warned you,” the lieutenant said, obviously very nervous and upset about this whole affair.
Chester eyed the lieutenant speculatively. “I wouldn’t get too officious, lad,” he said gently. “Don’t go beyond what the major orders you to do; it won’t look good at the court-martial.”
“Shut up, I told you,” the lieutenant snapped, looking more and more upset. “What court-martial?”
“Surely you realize that the General Staff is going to have to court-martial all of you for hanging a superior officer?” Chester said. “After all, that is mutiny. But it’s not your fault, son; you’re only obeying orders. I just hope that someone will testify for you at the trial. Perhaps you won’t be shot with the rest of them. Twenty years or so from now, you’ll be able to laugh at this.”
“But you’re a spy,” the lieutenant said. “It’s right to hang spies.”
“But that’s not for you or your major to decide,” Chester said. “I guess I’ll have to trust you, son. After I’m dead, you get the secret identification card out of the lining of my wallet and bring it to General Pickett of C.S.A. Intelligence. He’ll know what to do with it.”
“You mean—”
“Don’t ask questions, son, because I’m not allowed to answer them. Just do as I say. It’ll help you at the court-martial.”
“The court-martial,” the lieutenant repeated, looking unhappy.
“You take good care of them, Lieutenant,” the major said, “and don’t talk to the prisoners. I’m going to get a rope.”
Chester twisted to look at Carl and grinned. “They forgot the rope,” he said.
Carl nodded. “Things are looking up,” he said weakly, trying to smile back and achieving a sick grin.
“That’s an unfortunate choice of words,” Chester said. “Don’t give up hope, we’re not dead yet.” He gave a sideways glance at the lieutenant, who was staring wistfully off at the train. “General Lee can always get someone else to complete our mission. Whether we live or die, the South goes on. I only hope it’s not too late!” He turned suddenly. “Lieutenant, you won’t forget what I asked you to do? It’s very important, more important than your life or mine.”
“No, sir,” the lieutenant whispered, “I’ll remember!”
The major came trotting back from the train with a heavy braided rope looped in his hands. “We’re in luck,” he called; “there’s enough here to hang ’em both at once!”
Carl felt the blood draining from his face. It is one thing to face an enemy in battle, with the prospect of being killed, and quite another to face the cold-blooded prospect of your imminent and inevitable death by hanging.
The major cut the rope in half, and a captain took each half and started to climb the two selected trees, to tie the ropes to their appointed limbs.
The engine gave two long blasts on the whistle, and the train started up again, slowly puffing its way down the track. The major almost had a temper tantrum. “I told that pigeon-brained engineer, I distinctly told him to wait! How dare he—”
“Maybe there’s a train coming up behind, sir,” the fat captain offered.
The major allowed himself to be mollified. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We have business here!”
“What are they going to drop from?” one of the two new captains asked.
“What’s that?” the major demanded.
“They have to drop from something,” the captain explained. “A horse, a cart, a ladder, something; they can’t just fly into the noose.”
“Don’t be snotty, Captain,” the major said. “Lieutenant! Go off and find something for these two spies to drop from. And be quick about it!”
“Don’t ye move any part of any of ye in any direction,” a hoarse voice yelled, “except yer hands straight up. And fast!”
For an instant everyone froze: a tableau called “The Hanging.” Then all present whirled around to face the voice.
Different O’Malley was squatting in a gulley some ten yards from the group. On each side of him, peering over the gulley edge at the assembled Confederate officers, was a black-dyed face. In front of him, its snout facing the Confederate officers, was a crank-operated rapid-fire gun on a small tripod mount.
“Where in blazes did you come from?” the major demanded.
“Yon escaping train,” O’Malley told him. “Now get yer hands high in the air before I cut ye off at the middle.”
The major waved his hands high in the air. “Don’t panic, gentlemen,” he squeaked; “we still have the upper hand.”
“How’s that?” O’Malley inquired.
“Most of these men are armed,” the major called. “If you start shooting, they are to pull their weapons and shoot your two friends here—and that’s an order!” The last was directed at his men, who looked doubtful at this proposition from their hands-high vantage point. “Now you just come up from there with your hands up before we shoot your friends.”
“Yes?” O’Malley said. “And then what will ye do?” He sounded interested.
“Didn’t you understand me?” the major asked. “We can surely shoot your friends before you get all of us.”
“True,” O’Malley said. “But then, ye see the only reason I’m not busy shooting all of ye now is that my friends stand in the midst of ye. Now if ye were to shoot them ye’d remove my inhibition, and I’d mow ye down. So stop talking silly and cut my friends loose. Ye there, the one with the blond hair and the beardless face, remove yer knife from its scabbard and unbind my friends. Hop to!”
The young lieutenant took his small sheath knife from its sheath on his belt and cut the ropes tying Carl and Chester.
“Very good,” O’Malley said, turning the muzzle of his weapon slightly to discourage a captain who looked as though he were thinking of being courageous. “Now all of ye drop yer various weapons to the greensward. If ye need a little initiative, I’ll shoot yon major to get ye started.”
“I think we’d better do as he says, men,” the major announced, unbuckling his swordbelt and letting it fall to his feet. The rest of the officers followed suit with little argument. After all, having been bested by three men with a rapid-fire weapon is no disgrace.
“Fine,” O’Malley said, loudly and clearly, “now take yer boots off.”
If he’d started with that, he would have had an immediate rebellion from these Confederate officers, but he had them in the habit of obeying him now and they did so with only a vague muttering of discontent.
“Ye’re all sensible, intelligent men,” O’Malley told them. “Now I’d appreciate it if ye’d head over to yon railroad and see if ye can catch up with the train.”
“Barefoot?” the major asked, incredulously.
“Take yer time,” O’Malley said. “Don’t rush it.”
With much backward glancing and audible muttering, the Confederate offi
cers made it to the railroad tracks and hobbled after the train.
“Beautiful, O’Malley,” Chester yelped, rolling around on the grass and thumping it with his fist. “‘And then what will you do?’ Beautiful! Oh, that major’s face!”
Carl sat weakly down on the ground and stared up at the sky. He suddenly felt that life was a mystical experience which he had never fully appreciated before. He resolved to pay more attention to each second as it passed, and to recognize that each minute was beautifully different from the one before it and the one after.
“I don’t know what ye two would do without me,” O’Malley said. “I’ll just have to keep following ye around and picking up after ye.”
“And delighted we are for you to do it,” Chester said. “How did you get here? Come on out of that hole in the ground and introduce us to your two friends.”
O’Malley climbed up and pulled his two black-faced comrades with him. “My friends Hadrien and Roger, meet my friends Chester and Carl.” Hadrien and Roger shook hands, then excused themselves to go examine the rapid-fire gun.
“Let’s hear it,” Chester demanded. “You can’t just drop in and save our lives without an explanation.”
“Which way to the barrier?” O’Malley asked. “We might as well start walking while I’m explaining. We’d better be long gone when yon officers get back here.”
“You’re right,” Chester said. “And if I’m any judge of character, that major will be back with bloodhounds.”
“What about your friends?” Carl asked.
“They want to stay,” O’Malley assured him. “They just helped me to get their hands on that gun. They’re going to hide out in the woods for a month or so until the black dye is worn off, and then head back to Atlanta to take care of some unfinished business of their own.”
“Revenge is not a good motive for conducting business,” Chester said, stretching his arms and swinging his large torso from side to side, twisting to get the stiffness out. “It leads to sloppy thinking.” He dropped down to do a couple of quick pushups.
O’Malley shrugged. “Pick a direction,” he said.
“Due west,” Chester said. “Which would be”—he stared thoughtfully toward the sun setting where the horizon met the railroad tracks—“somewhat to the right of those tracks; say that way.” He pointed off into the high grass.
“Let’s go,” O’Malley said.
“Bloodhounds?” Carl asked. “Don’t you think we’d better do something about the possibility that he will bring back bloodhounds?”
“Oh, he will,” Chester said. “He’s the sort. We start by putting some distance between us and here. Later we’ll worry about the fancy tricks.”
They waved good-bye to Hadrien and Roger, contentedly taking apart the rapid-fire weapon, and started trekking toward the west.
After a short period of stumbling through the tall grass, they found a track that led in the basic direction they wanted, and fell into a steady walking pace. “OK,” Chester said then, “story time. Let’s hear it.”
“’Tis very simple,” O’Malley said. “I saw ye getting aboard the train from the tracks at the far end of the station. So when it came up to me, I pulled myself up on it. I found myself in a baggage car at the end of the train. My companions, the two escaping prisoners, were very annoyed when I swung aboard. They were hiding in the car.”
“Were there no baggage handlers or guards in the car?” Carl asked.
“There were,” O’Malley told him, “but they were comatose. A stout length of wood in the hands of Hadrien, I believe, had rendered them so.
“My immediate task was to convince my two companions that I was one of them. It was not easy as I knew so little of life on the island, having spent most of my time there hiding out and building that canoe. But after some little while I did so convince them. Then we started rifling the mailbags, more for want of anything else to do than for any purpose. We were sort of half hoping to find some food.”
“And you found that cannon,” Chester said.
“Aye, we found the cannon. It was a Patterson Model Four Hand-Cranked, Gas-Cocked, Plate-Fed, Fifty Caliber Field-Mounted Ordnance Piece. There were four of them.”
“Plate-fed?” Chester asked. “What does a ‘plate’ look like?”
“I don’t know,” O’Malley told him. “We never did find any of the ammunition for it.”
“You—” For the first time Carl saw Chester look surprised. Carl knew how Chester felt. His own knees suddenly felt weak.
“So when we saw ye being herded off the train like a couple of geese for the slaughter, we rolled off the far side with the weapons, left the other three in the ditch, and scurried with one to a convenient place to wave it at yer oppressors. Then one of my black-faced pals jumped back into the baggage car for a moment and pulled the train alarm to start the train. And it chugged out of sight. We didn’t want any of the passengers seeing us rescue ye and come to the officers’ aid.”
“I thought those alarms stopped the train,” Chester said.
“There’s one in the last car that signals the engineer to get moving. It’s in case there’s another train coming up behind, or something. Hadrien knew about it, and he pulled it, and the train left.”
Chester shook his head. “Not loaded, huh? Bluffed them out with an empty gun. How do you like that? How do you like that?”
O’Malley shrugged. “They didn’t know it was empty,” he said, “and that’s what matters. It’s what a man thinks is true which controls his actions, not what is really true.”
Chapter Fourteen
They trudged for three days, including most of the first night, before they reached the barrier. Three times they crossed streams and did various clever things to elude the possibly following bloodhounds. Once, on the third day, they heard the sound of baying faintly, off in the distance, but by that time the barrier was in sight in front of them.
The barrier was a cleared earth strip about twenty feet wide, with a blue haze running down the center. It was impossible to tell exactly how high the blue haze went, but it couldn’t have been too high because flitterboats crossed over barriers with impunity. Still it was clearly high enough to prevent leaping, or even pole-vaulting over.
“What now?” Carl asked, staring at the body of a rabbit that had innocently tried to cross the barrier and now lay dead on the turned earth.
“I used to service these things,” Chester said. “It was my first summer job when I was sixteen. It’s easy if you know how.” He stalked along parallel to the barrier until he came to a metal post about four feet high that was set in the middle of the clearing, and surrounded by the blue haze.
“There’s one of these every quarter-mile or so,” he told them. “It’s the control unit for this section of barrier.”
“How do ye get to it?” O’Malley asked.
“It takes steady hands, confidence, and willpower,” Chester said. “Watch.” He stood perpendicular to the post and stretched his hand out to it, through the blue haze, until he could just touch the small silver ball on top of the post.
The silver ball flipped open to the touch, revealing an inset touch panel. “You’ll have about ten seconds,” Chester said. “When I say go, just walk straight through the barrier.”
“Go!”
Carl and O’Malley walked through the barrier, with Chester right behind them. Carl felt it tingle as he stepped out of the haze, but that was all.
“You mean it’s that easy?” Carl asked.
“If you know what to do it’s that easy,” Chester said. “But experimenting is liable to be deadly, remember.”
“Where are we now?” O’Malley asked.
“France,” Chester said. “During a period known as World War Two. Sanloo is across the next barrier, west of here.”
“Another war?” Carl asked. “Don’t any of these sectors have anything but wars?”
“That’s what the tourists want to see,” Chester said, “so that’s what th
ey give them. There are a few sectors that aren’t wars; small ones where they hold rain dances or make interesting artifacts.”
They followed a path through the woods for a long time, then came out into a large, cultivated valley. At the far end of the valley was a small town that made Carl feel right at home. Except for a few small differences, it looked like the small towns in his sector. “Let’s head for the town,” he said. “Maybe we can talk them into feeding us.”
“Ye didn’t like the rabbit I spitted and cooked for ye last night?” O’Malley asked.
“It was fine,” Carl said. “But that was last night, and this is this afternoon, and we haven’t had anything to eat yet today.”
“Eating more than once a day is bad for ye,” O’Malley pronounced.
“We might just as well head for the town,” Chester said. “It lies right across our path anyway. And maybe they will feed us.”
“Maybe they could give us a change of clothes, too,” Carl said. “I don’t know what they wear in this sector, but it sure isn’t these uniforms; and if an Inspector happens to flit by, he’ll pick us up just by our dress.”
“That’s true.” Chester nodded. “Local peasant garb is the ticket. If we have anything they’ll take in trade.”
“I fancy they’ll take those uniforms,” O’Malley said. “Good strong material, heavy weave. Just remove the brass buttons and various devices, and ye’ve got good heavy work clothes. Just ask them not to wear them for a few days after we leave.”
“Worth trying,” Chester agreed.
A loud rumbling noise came from their right, and the three of them instinctively flattened themselves against the ground and watched as a mechanical behemoth came around the bend. There were two more identical monsters behind the first. The three passed where they were hiding and headed toward the town. The ground shook as the machines passed.
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