by Moira Young
I’m facin the side of the Cosmic. There’s a movement at the air grille.
Hey, RiverLee, says Eli, who d’you s’pose—
The thud of a bolt shooter.
Eli’s head jerks back. His arms fly out. He hits the ground.
Eli! RiverLee starts screamin.
I’m on my knees, gaspin fer air. Lugh leaps from the back of the Cosmic, bolt shooter in hand.
RiverLee fires wildly at him.
He shoots her dead.
An it’s silent.
Jest like that.
The shock of silence.
After noise an chaos an fear.
Lugh rushes over an helps me to my feet. Are y’okay? he says.
I nod. Yeah, I says.
Maev, Emmi an Tommo climb outta the Cosmic. They take in the sight of Eli an RiverLee lyin dead. Em starts to cry.
Don’t weep fer them, little sister, says Slim.
What now? says Maev.
I’d like to burn the whole place an these two with it, says Slim.
Too much smoke, says Tommo. People might notice.
We’ll hafta to bury ’em, says Slim. You lot do it. I cain’t.
That’s what we do. We dig a pit in the woods where Billy Six hid out. We don’t make Emmi help. She cries quietly, with her back turned, an shrugs Tommo off when he goes to give her a hug. The rest of us work in silence. Our faces drawn with our own thoughts. Lugh’s pale. He ain’t so used as the rest of us to the shock of sudden violence. Of quick, brutal death. It warn’t so long ago that I believed Hopetown had made me hard to it. But I ain’t. An from the look on everybody’s faces, they all feel the same. Apart from Slim.
As we start to cover Eli with dirt an leaves, Slim holds off Lugh’s shovel. With his other hand, he reaches fer his shooter, but I grab it. Stop him.
You cain’t kill a man twice, I says.
Slim looks at me a long moment. Then he spits in Eli’s face, sayin, That’s fer Billy, you sonofabitch.
We’ve jest about covered RiverLee with a thin layer of dirt when he says, Hang on.
He slides down into the grave. Feels in her pockets an pulls somethin from it. He pops it into the skinbag he wears around his waist, then holds up his hands fer Tommo, Lugh an Maev to help him out agin. I caught a quick glimpse as it went in his bag. It was the tiny brown bottle of tincture. Two drops twice a day so RiverLee could have a child.
That’s what he told her, anyways.
As everybody climbs in back of the Cosmic, dusk is gatherin aginst the day.
Jest over a couple leagues to go, says Slim. Didn’t I tell you I’d git you there by nightfall?
The huddle of mountains that looked so small when we first seen ’em now tower high an broodily dark. The storm belt, with the Lost Cause, lonely in the middle of the plain.
Meet me at the Lost Cause. Be there by the next full moon.
I’m comin, Jack.
I go to climb up front with Slim. Oh no, he says. Trouble loves you like flies love a dungheap. You wanna git to the Lost Cause in one piece? Ride in back with the rest of ’em.
I hesitate. I cain’t think, cain’t remember where he was when Eli seen my tattoo. It was all such confusion. But if Slim seen it too, then he—
He’s pointin at the mountains. Look, there it is! he says. I brought you all this way. I could of handed you over long before now, gun or no gun to my head. C’mon, time’s wastin.
Okay, I says. All right.
We’re gonna go like the clappers, he says. Hang on.
Tracker stays with Slim. Nero’s airborne. Hermes is gonna follow behind, untethered this time. I climb into the back of the Cosmic an squeeze myself between Maev an Emmi.
Slim yells, Gee up! an Moses takes off like a shot.
The Cosmic Compendalorium flies along. We brace ourselves aginst her walls. The road might be decent, but it’s still rough. Too rough fer a rickety, rackety cart held together with rope an a hope. As she bounces an rattles an shakes an bumps, gaps start to appear. Between the walls. Between the walls an the roof, the walls an the floor. We look at each other, eyes wide.
Is she gonna fall apart? says Em.
Of course not, I says.
The gaps suddenly widen. The Cosmic groans.
Hit the deck! yells Lugh.
We all dive face down in the straw. The Cosmic hits a hole. She flies up. Slams down. The floor cracks. Breaks. Emmi screams. We fall through.
Here it comes – the ground, the wheels, the pain, make-it-quick-oh-mercy-it’s-the-end-the-end-this-is-how-it-ends—
We don’t land in the road.
We ain’t on the ground. We ain’t trampled an mangled. Our limbs ain’t broke. Nobody’s dead. We’re still in the Cosmic, rattlin along. An we jest discovered her secret. She’s got a false bottom. A fake floor with a hidey-hole unnerneath. That’s what we’ve fell into.
As fer what we’ve fell onto.
Well.
I’m starin down the barrel of a firestick.
It’s wrapped in cloth. The top bit’s slipped back.
Cloth-wrapped bundles, all different sizes and shapes, fill the hidden nest. Its walls an floor is heavy padded to pertect the Cosmic’s secret cargo.
Everybody’s lyin on top of me in a jumble of legs an arms an straw an shattered floorboards. We untangle ourselfs an stare. Lugh picks up a small bundle an pulls off the cloth. It’s a bolt shooter. Emmi unwraps a blowgun. Maev, a sword. Tommo, a bundle of arrows. An there’s some weapons I ain’t never seen before. All clean an tidy an oiled an gleamin. Wicked. Ready fer action. My pulse starts to race when I see ’em.
But he’s a doctor, says Em.
Doctor an arms dealer, says Maev.
Nobody says naught fer a moment. Then. The penny drops.
Ohmigawd, I says. There’s a resistance.
What? says Lugh.
His friend back there, I says. Billy Six. Livin rough in the woods, sabotagin homesteads. Last night. We stopped there cuz he had a delivery to make. He went off when he was s’posed to be on watch, he came back with mud on his boots. I thought I was dreamin, but – he ain’t no friend of the Tonton. There’s a gawdamn resistance an he’s the weapons man.
Maybe that’s what he’s deliverin to the Lost Cause, says Maev. Maybe it’s a weapons drop.
Maybe Molly’s with the resistance, says Emmi.
Probly meant some fer Billy Six too, I says, essept he didn’t need none seein how he’s nailed to a tree.
Hang on, says Lugh, where’s the evidence? Jest becuz the guy runs weapons don’t mean he’s some kinda freedom fighter. Look at all of this, it’s a bloody arsenal. Jest as likely, it’s fer the Tonton. In fact, more’n likely. That’s who’s gonna be waitin fer us at the Lost Cause. Not jest unfaithful Jack but his nasty new friends in black too, I’ll warrant.
Lugh looks straight at me now. You got a price on yer head, he says, an Jack’s a man with his eye on the main chance. How fine would that be? Make his mark with the Pathfinder by handin over the Angel of Death. Slim knows Molly, Molly knows Jack . . . work it out. It’s a set up. Slim’s a Tonton spy. He knew who you was right from the start. He’s bin playin us all this time. That’s the story here. Not freedom. Death. Our deaths. All of us.
We stare at each other.
No, I says. No, yer wrong.
Am I? says Lugh. Think about it.
My breath’s comin fast an tight. That moment when we first met Slim.
Where was you goin jest now? I said. My sheema starts to slip back from my face. My tattoo. Don’t let him see. I yank it back, scowl at him. Well?
Uh . . . we was headed east, he said. We got a delivery to make. In the storm belt. A tavern called the Lost Cause.
Everybody okay back there? yells Slim.
Suddenly, I grab one of the
firesticks. I smash it, butt first, through the front wall of the cart. Next to where Slim oughta be. I pull it out an smash it through agin. I shove myself through, biggin it with my elbows an shoulders. Tumble onto the driver’s bench next to Slim. Tracker scrambles outta the way.
Slim throws me a startled look.
I aim my bolt shooter at him. Who am I, you sonofabitch?
Helluva time fer a identity crisis, he says.
We found yer load, I says.
Ah, he says. Okay, here’s the thing— His eye flicks back to the road. Widens. Ohmigawd, he says.
I look where he’s lookin.
Straight ahead a pillar of thick black smoke rises into the sky. It smacks aginst the sulphate cloud, like steam hittin a pot lid, an billows in every direction.
Somethin’s on fire, I says.
It’s the Lost Cause, says Slim. There ain’t nuthin else there. Molly’s in trouble.
My heart seizes. Starts hammerin in my chest. Jack’s there. Waitin fer me. We gotta go in, I says.
You bet, he says. Straight over the causeway.
Up ahead a wide river in full flow cuts across the road. The road keeps on goin right over top of it. It’s shored up eether side by banks made from rocks an boulders an concrete blocks. At the far end, it disappears through a gap in the mountains.
Black smoke billows through the gap. Tumbles along the causeway towards us.
I turn an yell into the cab, Fire up ahead! It’s the Lost Cause!
Nero dives an swoops, callin out alarms. Slim starts to cough. Pulls his kercheef over his mouth an nose.
Lugh sticks his head through the hole. Sees the smoke. What’re you, crazy? Stop! Turn around!
We’re goin in, I says. Tell everybody.
He’s about to argue. But there must be somethin in my face. With a curse, he disappears, an I hear him shoutin orders to the rest.
I yank my sheema up over my nose. Tracker’s whinin. Anxious. I press him down to lie at my feet. Pull off my tunic an cover his head with it. Stay there, I tell him, good boy.
The Cosmic races over the causeway. The smoke billows an rolls in thick black waves. It tumbles. Crashes. Breaks. Six horsemen appear from inside the cloud. Riders in black.
Black robes.
Black riders.
The Tonton.
They gallop towards us. Six of ’em. In a tight group. Two by two by two.
My belly clenches. It’s my first sight of ’em since the battle at Pine Top Hill.
I might of known, says Slim. Them Tonton bastards like to play with fire.
I shout back into the wagon, Tonton comin! Keep outta sight!
The causeway’s narrow. Not more’n eight foot across. No room to pass.
They’re headed right at us, I says to Slim.
How’s yer nerve? Steady?
I guess, I says.
Ever played chicken before? he says.
No.
Watch an learn, he says. You better duck down. Seein there’s a price on yer head.
My heart skips a beat. Our eyes meet. You knew all the time, I says.
Yer lucky it was me you hijacked, he says.
Who are you? I says.
A friend, he says. Git down, Angel.
I slide into the footwell, next to Tracker.
Heeya! Shouts Slim. Straight on fer Egypt, Moses! Heeya! We thunder along at speed. The Cosmic rattles an groans. Let’s hope she holds together, he says.
I peer out. My shooter’s ready in my hand.
Don’t fire unless you hafta, he says.
Yer gonna hafta stop, I says.
I ain’t stoppin. I’m gonna give these firebugs a little show. He pulls a big white hanky from his britches pocket. They’ll jest see that old fool Salmo Slim, he says. Him an his fleabit camel outta control agin.
He heaves hisself to his feet an starts wavin the hanky over his head. Help! Help! Runaway camel! he bellows. With th’other hand, he keeps a death grip on the reins an holds Moses firm.
We barrel towards the Tonton. They come at us. Slim waves an hollers, Help! Help!
They come on. Holdin the line. Closer. Ever closer.
We’re gonna crash! I yell.
You first-timers always panic, he shouts. Playin chicken’s all about who holds their nerve the longest, who blinks first. It ain’t gonna be me.
They hold.
Hold.
Hold.
I don’t breathe. Don’t move.
Thirty foot.
Twenny five.
C’mon, says Slim. Blink, you bastards.
Twenny.
Fifteen.
Blink, you gawdamn sonsabitches! roars Slim.
On the word, they split. Like they heard him. Three to the left. Three to the right.
I duck low. They thunder past, jest below us on the bank. A blur of hoofs an dust an robes an boots. A blast of smoke an sweat slaps me in the face. Fer one second – one heartbeat – I wonder if one of ’em’s Jack.
A firestick cracks. Slim cries out. He falls back, sprawled on the bench. He’s bin shot. His right shoulder’s blasted open.
Slim! I yell.
Take the reins! he says.
I scramble onto the seat an grab ’em. I glance behind us. The Tonton disappear in a cloud of dust.
Hermes races along behind us, tucked in behind the Cosmic.
Slim presses his hanky to the wound. Grits his teeth aginst the pain. He hollers through the smashed wall into the Cosmic, blow up the causeway!
What? shouts Lugh.
Little balls with pins! yells Slim. Pull out the pins an throw a few!
I hold Moses firm. The road drives straight through the gap in the mountains. Disappears into the smoke.
Nuthin happens. Nuthin. Nuthin.
Suddenly,
BOOM! A great wallop of thunder cracks the air. Rocks the ground.
I dare a quick look over my shoulder.
Behind us, a colossal blast of rock an water an dirt slams into the sky. The causeway’s bin blowed to bits. No sign of the riders or their horses.
Did we git ’em? says Slim.
I cain’t tell, I says. Maybe not. They was movin quick. They might of got across before the blast.
If they did, they’ll be lookin fer us, says Slim. So much fer sneakin you in without notice.
I glance over at him. Sweat beads his face. He’s grey around the gills. What the hell, Slim, I says. You ain’t no Tonton spy. Who are you?
His mouth twists. I think he’s tryin to smile.
Jest git us to the Lost Cause, he says.
Moses barrels into the wall of thick black smoke. I cain’t see nuthin. My eyes stream. I cain’t breathe. We’re gonna crash. But quick as we’re in it, we’re out agin. The Lost Cause is straight ahead. Wild flames lick at it. Gobble it. They hiss an crackle an roar. Fire lights up the lonely plain. The low-hangin cloud glows bright. Orange an white an yellow an brown. The black smoke billows an curls. Waves of heat beat at the air.
The Lost Cause is lost.
We race towards it, there at the crossroads. I go as close as I dare, then haul on the reins. Moses slows, stops. He backs up, bellowin.
Slim slumps aginst me. Find Molly, he says.
Maev! Emmi! I yell. Slim’s bin shot!
They come runnin an climb in the front, medicine bag in hand. Maev takes over an me an Tracker leap out.
Tracker, stay! I head fer the burnin buildin at a run. I’m coughin. The smoke stings my eyes.
Saba! Lugh’s voice. Feet – his an Tommo’s – pound behind me. Come back!
Jack could be in there! I yell. I slam into the heat. It’s solid. Like a wall. It throws me back. Lugh grabs one arm. Tommo th’ other. They pull at me, tryin to drag me away. I dig in my he
els.
No! I yell. Lemme go!
Anybody in there’s already dead, says Lugh.
No! I squirm an struggle.
It’s one storey. Made of flimsy Wrecker junk. The walls twist an buckle. Crack an shriek. The middle of the roof crashes into the flames.
Where’s the still? says Tommo.
What? says Lugh.
Where they brew the hooch! he yells.
Omigawd, says Lugh, one spark an it’ll blow! Run!
We turn. Start to run.
BOOM!
The blast flings us into the air. Sends us flyin. I land with a thump, face down. I scramble to my feet. Start to run back.
Jack! I yell.
No, Saba! Lugh tackles me. He throws hisself on top of me. He shields me with his body as the Lost Cause rains down all around us.
I’m still. Numb.
Git off, I says.
Lugh don’t move.
Git offa me, I says.
He gits to his feet an holds out his hand. I ignore it. I make my way through the wreckage, go towards the burnin corpse of the Lost Cause. The fire feasts on the remains. It licks an crackles an snaps. The tavern sign lies on the ground. It’s scorched, the paint flaked an faded. A little boat on a stormy sea, about to be swamped by a huge wave. I skirt around the edges, as close as I dare. My eyes search the flames. Lookin fer . . . I dunno what. Somethin. Anythin to stop this cold, heavy flatness of not knowin.
Tommo comes up. Yer shakin, he says. He puts his arm around my shoulders. I don’t think he was in there, he says.
I look up at the sky. The sulphate cloud’s startin to churn in sluggish clumps. The full moon shines faint in the darkenin sky. My hand’s closed around the heartstone. It’s cold.
He said he’d meet me here at the full moon, I says.
Tommo falls into step beside me. It’s only jest dark, he says. Maybe he’s still on his way.
Maybe, I says.
Suddenly, Nero caw caw caws. He’s on the ground a little ways away, flappin his wings an bobbin his head.
What’s he got? says Tommo. As he’s sayin the words, I’m movin. We run to where he is.
Nero’s perched on top of a hat. A brown, battered hat with a brim. There’s a grey pigeon feather stuck in the band.