They proceeded for a couple of hours, making more stops to rest than Dolfen was comfortable with. He felt terribly exposed away from the trees, but they could only push themselves and the horses so hard. They stopped around noon for lunch and finished off the last of their meager rations. Dolfen hoped McGill was right about there being food at this mine place. He wasn’t sure what they’d do for the horses’ fodder.
They pushed as hard as any of them could manage, but they were still far short of their goal when darkness fell. Comstock half-heartedly tried to convince them to make one last push to reach the mine, but none of them had any push left. So they found a concealed spot in the rocks and collapsed for the night. They hadn’t seen or heard any sign of the enemy that whole day.
The next morning Dolfen was so stiff and sore he could barely move, and he could tell that everyone else was in the same state. But they had to move and since they had no food left to make breakfast, they didn’t even have an excuse to delay a few minutes. There were still no threats in sight so they continued on foot to spare the horses. They had only been going a few minutes before it became clear that Mrs. Olsen’s feet were so badly blistered from yesterday that she couldn’t keep up, so she was allowed to ride. The sky was clouded over and it looked like it could rain. The wind was still southerly and it brought a welcome warmth. Winter was nearly over, but what sort of spring would it be?
They hadn’t gone far when they started finding the triangular holes that the Martian machines made when they walked. So they had been through here, and while that was no surprise, it still felt ominous. They kept a sharp lookout in all directions. After an hour or so, one of Comstock’s men pointed out that the bundle with the little Martian’s body was starting to ooze and drip a bit, smelling truly awful, but the major wouldn’t let him dump it.
An hour or so later they were curving their path back toward the southeast. McGill told him that there was a path not too far ahead leading up into the hills where there was a small mine. “With any luck we can rest for a couple of days and then get moving east again.”
But just then, their luck ran out.
“Look!” shouted Private Urbaniak, who was bringing up the rear. “There they are!”
* * * * *
Cycle597,843.5, East of Holdfast 32-1
What does it take to kill these things? Qetjnegartis looked at the prey-creatures through the magnifier and had to conclude that there was sufficient probability that these were the same ones it had been chasing to warrant further pursuit. It had just given the order to return to the holdfast mere moments before when a subordinate had spotted them. It seemed impossible that anything could have survived the inferno they had created the previous day, and yet here they were, still fleeing east. The first two, and in all probability the others who had slain Kravnijuntus.
But now they were out in the open, only five telequel away. They would not escape again.
* * * * *
March, 1909, South of Thoreau, New Mexico Territory
Andrew looked over his shoulder; the Martians were definitely closing on them—fast. They were maybe three miles behind at the most. Another fifteen minutes and they’d be in range of the heat rays. And there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it. Riding double on the nearly exhausted horses, they weren’t moving much faster than a walking pace. And even if they split up, there were six of the enemy machines and they’d probably be able to run them all down. Damn! They were so close to getting away!
But they kept moving; to do anything else was death, either immediately by heat ray, or later as food. The entrance to the passage through the hills crept closer; the enemy would keep chasing them through it, but if they could only get into the mine! He doubted the Martians could follow them there! But it was just too far…
“We’ll never make it, sir,” said McGill, coming up beside him. “What do you think we should do? Scatter?”
“Probably wouldn’t make any difference,” he gasped. “Too many of them.”
“But you need to get back, sir. Tell ‘em what you saw. Maybe the rest of us can draw ‘em off. Give you the freshest horse and you might make it to the mine.”
“I’m not going to run off and abandon all of you!”
“Sometimes… sometimes you have to leave a rear guard, sir. So the rest of the army can live. It’s hard, but it’s a part of soldiering.”
“I can’t do that!”
“Then we’ll all die for nothing, sir! If you can get back then at least our deaths will mean something!”
Andrew stared at his sergeant in dismay. He was right; there was no arguing that. But how could he run and leave the others—women and children—and save himself? He’d never be able to look himself in the mirror again.
“Whatever we’re gonna do, we gotta do it quick, sir. Not much time left.”
He was right again. But what could they do? Scattering seemed the only possible option. But he was damned if he was going to take the freshest horse or ask the others to cover for him! They’d all take the same risk and have the same chance. If he made it, well and good, but if he didn’t…
“All right! Listen up!” he shouted.
But he’d barely gotten the words out when there was a sound, a sound that he never expected: a bugle call! He jerked his head around and there! Half a mile ahead, just emerging from hills was a group of horsemen; thirty or forty at least. Cavalry!
“That way! As fast as you can!” They spurred their poor animals and they, perhaps sensing some sort of safety with a larger herd, managed almost a trot. But the cavalry had spotted them and a group broke away and galloped toward them. They closed the distance rapidly and Andrew spotted a lieutenant in the lead. To his surprise the man shouted: “Major Comstock?”
“Yes! How’d you know?”
The lieutenant reached him and turned his horse to follow alongside; no one even considered stopping. “Lieutenant Kenshaw, 7th Cavalry, sir. Friend of yours, Captain Selfridge, told me this was probably your party.”
“Selfridge is with you? And my other men?”
“Yes, sir, found them at that mine up in the mountains, but if you don’t mind my saying, we really better get the hell out of here!”
“No argument! But our horses are done. Can yours take us riding double?”
Kenshaw looked doubtful. “Dunno, sir. Our horses are pretty fresh, but I don’t know how far they could go and still stay ahead of those things.”
“We just need to get to the mine!”
“The mine, sir? I’d think you’d want to get back to the army.”
“Army? What army?”
“General Funston, sir. He’s got quite a force, eight or ten miles east of here.”
“I’ll be damned!” Andrew looked back at the Martians, they were closer than ever. Run for the mine? Run for the army? The mine might be closer, but it was still a trap with no way out. If they could reach the army! “But can we stay ahead of them that long?”
“We can try, sir!”
“All right, but I won’t leave anyone behind!”
“Right! Sandusky!” Kenshaw shouted to one of his men. “Get back to the troop and tell them to drop all their gear! And I mean everything! We’ll be taking passengers!”
“Yes sir!” The man kicked his mount into a gallop and raced off. The rest of them followed more slowly.
“Everyone, listen!” Andrew shouted to his own party. “We’ll be doubling up with the cavalry! There’s no time for any nonsense! As soon as we join them, just get off your horse and get on another! We’ve got to move!” A chorus of excited replies came back. They had all sunk into despair, but now, now hope was rekindled. He just prayed it wasn’t a fool’s hope.
The cavalry were jettisoning the last of their gear as they rode up. Everyone jumped, or more accurately collapsed, out of their saddles and the troopers helped them all mount up. Andrew found himself riding behind Lieutenant Kenshaw. They immediately took off at a brisk trot.
“You must have m
ade them mad, sir,” said the lieutenant. “To chase you all this way, I mean.”
“Maybe so. But tell me about General Funston’s army. What’s he got?”
“He’s got the bit between his teeth, is what he’s got, sir! He only showed up the day before yesterday and Good God what a difference! Before that we were just milling around like a flock of chickens. The trains kept bringing in more troops and more supplies but no one was in charge. Or I should say the brigade commanders were arguing about who ought to be in charge! Then General Funston arrives and within a few hours we were on the move! He sent us out to reconnoiter and we happened to bump into those two men you sent back and they led us to the mine where Captain Selfridge was.”
“But what sort of force does he have with him?”
“A couple of short infantry brigades, a few batteries of guns, and us and the 10th Cavalry. I think that’s it, sir.”
Andrew frowned. Not even as powerful as the force General Sumner had gotten slaughtered. True, there were only six tripods this time, but he didn’t see how Funston could…
“Oh, and there’s a few dozen of those steam-powered gun tractor things. Crazy-looking contraptions! And they scare hell out of the horses!”
“The tanks?” cried Andrew in delight. “The tanks are finally here?”
“Is that what they’re called? Yes, they’re clanking round, trying to keep up with the rest.”
“Thank God! Now we’ve got a chance!”
“You really think they can do anything, sir?”
“I hope so! Lieutenant, send a man ahead! Have him tell Funston that we are bringing six Martians right to him! Have him get ready to give them a proper welcome!”
“Yes sir! Sandusky! Got another job for you!”
Chapter Eleven
Cycle 597,843.6, East of Holdfast 32-1
Qetjnegartis looked on as the first group of prey-creatures joined a second, larger group. They were all riding the draught animals and apparently these were not as fatigued as the first batch. They were now maintaining their distance and even pulling ahead slightly. Experience had shown that they could not maintain this pace indefinitely, but it could now be a significant amount of time before they drew close enough to use the heat rays. Was it logical to continue the pursuit? The time already used was becoming excessive. The machines back at the holdfast required supervision to operate at full efficiency. Perhaps it would be better to abandon this effort and turn back.
Still, there was the matter of what the creatures had learned at the holdfast, or could learn from the dead bud. Most of Qetjnegartis’ compatriots would have scoffed at the notion that these creatures were capable of learning anything, but that was self-deception. The entire strategy for this second expedition was based on the premise that the creatures had learned from the first invasion and would be better prepared for a landing near their major cities. To assume that they were incapable of learning anything more was illogical. All but the most primitive animals were capable of learning to some degree; it was an essential survival skill.
The prey-creatures had already demonstrated that they could be dangerous. And the more they learned, the more dangerous they would be. It was a very simple equation and with a straightforward reciprocal: the less they learned, the less dangerous they would be. Therefore, the pursuit would continue until these were all destroyed.
But it was still tedious. These draught animals gave the prey an unexpected mobility. In addition to machines which could more efficiently harvest the prey, the Race needed machines which were faster.
* * * * *
March, 1909, Near Thoreau, New Mexico Territory
“Y’know, Sarge, I’m getting really tired of running from these damn things!”
Frank Dolfen snorted and grinned. Private Urbaniak, clinging to the back of one of the 7th’s troopers—just as Dolfen was—had come up abreast of him. “Yeah, I know what you mean. But maybe we won’t have to run much longer. From what I overheard from the major, we’ve got friends up ahead.”
“So we’re leading these bastards into an ambush?”
“Seems like that’s the idea.”
“I’d pay good money to see that!”
“With any luck you’ll get to see it for free.” If we can actually pull this off!
They had been running for over an hour since meeting up with the boys from the 7th and so far they were staying ahead of the Martians. But he wasn’t sure how much longer they could maintain the pace. Or how much longer they would have to maintain the pace. All anyone could tell them was that the army was off to the east somewhere. The cavalry had been sent out here to scout with the promise that the rest would follow, but where they were by now remained to be seen. The major had sent a courier racing ahead to spread the word and give them time to prepare.
The group had come down out of the hills to get on the flatter, smoother ground near where the railroad used to run. They could make better time there and it was easier on the horses. The rough ground didn’t seem to bother the Martians any, so there was nothing to be gained by staying in the hills. He glanced around to make sure none of his people were lagging. The girl was riding with a trooper a few dozen yards away, and incredibly, that crazy horse of hers was keeping pace even though all of their other exhausted mounts had just wandered off when they abandoned them.
As they rode, Dolfen realized they must be backtracking the path the Martians had taken with their prisoners going the other way. The major and his men had told him all about that horror. A few blackened patches of ground marked where men had been unable to keep up. What had happened to those men? Had they been delivered to whatever fate awaited them behind the great wall raised around where Gallup had once stood? And what had happened to Stella? Was there any chance she’d escaped?
He jerked himself out of one set of awful thoughts to be confronted by another nightmare scene. They were riding through where the big battle had been fought. The major’s men and the men of the 7th had already seen it, but it was new to Dolfen and his people. It was… strange. He’d seen the old photographs taken after Civil War battles; the fields littered with hundreds of bodies; both men and horses. But here there weren’t any bodies—or hardly any. Just vast areas of scorched earth, like the remains of the burned forest they had fled through. And yet he could feel the sense of death all around. Men had stood and died here. A few half-melted field guns and some overturned wagons which had somehow escaped the flames were the only real evidence that a battle had been fought here.
No, as he looked closer he could see that there was some other evidence. A man caught fully by the heat rays was just… gone. Nothing left but ash. But someone only caught by the edge of the ray, then there were remains. Dolfen spotted the blackened bones of men and animals along the route they were riding; even a few bodies that were more or less intact. Perhaps they’d only been close enough to have their clothes catch fire. There was a strong smell of burning, but it wasn’t much different from the forest fire. There had been a small town here, but it was just rubble and charred timbers; the destruction was much more thorough than at Ramah. If we don’t stop them, then every town is going to look like this…
“Come on! Come on!” cried a sergeant in the 7th. “Keep going!”
But the horses were definitely slowing. He looked back and the Martians were still there, two miles back. And closing? He couldn’t be sure. He looked ahead and for a moment he thought he saw some movement on the next ridge line a couple of miles to the east. He rubbed his eyes on his dirty sleeve and looked again. No, he didn’t see anything now. Maybe he’d imagined it. But if they didn’t reach help soon, they were going to be caught. Where the hell was the damn army?
Halfway to the next ridge they had to cross a stream. The bridge was no longer there, so they had to go down the bank on one side, splash across, and then up on the other. As they did so, a rider who had been concealed behind the bank mounted up and joined them. It was the man the officers had sent ahead earlier.
“Lieutenant! Sir!” he cried.
“Sandusky!” shouted the lieutenant commanding the detachment from the 7th. “I hope to hell you haven’t been lollygagging here all this time! Report!”
“No sir! I made it back to the army! They’re just ahead; the other side of the ridge! I found the colonel and he took me right to the general! They’re getting everything ready and they sent me to find you and tell you to just come straight on! Try and sucker those things right in if we can!”
“Good! Good!” exclaimed the major. “That’s exactly what we’ll do!” This brought a cheer from the men of the 7th, but everyone else, including Dolfen, was too tired to do anything but mumble prayers of thanks. Were they actually going to get somewhere safe? Did such a place even exist anymore?
Instinct told him to go faster, get to the army as quickly as possible, but to nearly everyone’s dismay, Major Comstock actually forced them to slow down. “We’re bait!” he explained. “If we get too far ahead they might give up. We need to wiggle on the hook a little!”
“Damnation! The man’s a maniac!” muttered Urbaniak.
“It’s all right,” said Dolfen, not at all sure that it was. “We’ll save the horses for a race to the finish.”
They slowed to a walk and the Martians were catching up. How far could their heat rays shoot? How close did they dare let them get? Comstock had been here for the first battle and it was his job to evaluate the capabilities of the enemy’s weapons, but Dolfen hoped the man knew what the hell he was doing! Two miles… a mile and a half… They sent the men carrying the civilians on ahead, but the rest of them maintained the walking pace. A mile and a quarter… they were getting close to the crest of the ridge…
The Great Martian War Page 27