The Halcyon Dislocation

by Peter Kazmaier

  Al had kept his scraggly beard from the hospital and wore a toque as he helped unload the longboat in the hope that he wouldn’t be recognized. No one seemed to take any notice of him, and he made four uneventful trips from the boat to the campsite and then helped set up the tents. Al, Dwight, and Tom would occupy a tent set apart from the rest in a small glade. Floyd obviously didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that his platoon had twenty-nine members rather than the twenty-five had by all the others.

  When the tents were set up, Al decided he had to talk to Pam alone, even if he risked frightening her off for good. He’d had no chance of doing so on board the ship because of the crowded conditions, but he felt so agitated by the change in their relationship that he wanted to do or say something to at least try to return to their former friendship.

  Pam’s tent was in the main glade, and Al went back there now. After the arduous unloading, everyone was lounging around, waiting for the inevitable orders for their next move. Al spotted Pam sitting with five other girls, chatting and laughing, at one end of the glade. He winced inwardly, but setting his jaw and putting his hands in his pocket, he sauntered over, trying his best to give the impression of nonchalance.

  He failed. The conversation stopped as he approached, and six faces turned towards him. Pam’s face had the hint of a smile, but the other five had broad knowing smirks; they knew what he was about. He felt the color rise in his face.

  “Pam, could I speak to you for a few minutes?” His voice quavered as he spoke.

  She rose immediately, “Of course!” She walked directly to him, and Al saw the smiles around the circle broaden even further.

  They said nothing for a while until they reached the western shore of the island and walked along a stretch of sandy beach.

  “Pam,” said Al, “I wanted to thank you again for rescuing me from Boyd’s captivity.”

  She turned to look him full in the face, a hint of disappointment or even sadness about her eyes and mouth. “I’m your friend, Al. Of course I’d try to rescue you,” she said softly and reproachfully.

  Another silence. “Is that what you wanted to tell me?” asked Pam.

  “That’s part of it,” said Al. “But there’s something else. I’m sorry I embarrassed you with that poem—“

  “I wasn’t embarrassed!” said Pam. “After I read it, I knew I’d had no business taking it and reading it without permission. It was an intrusion, and I’m sorry.”

  “But why has such a wall gone up between us? Things aren’t the same.”

  Pam put her hand on his arm. “Al, you’re in great danger here, and seeing me is only making your danger greater. We need to stay apart.” She looked up past his shoulder and her eyes widened.

  “What do you mean?” asked Al.

  “I’ve got to go!” She started to run away. She turned suddenly. “I’m sorry!” She turned and ran back to camp.

  Al turned around to see what had startled Pam. In the distance he saw Stan with a scowl on his face.

  Why didn’t she want Stan to see us?

  He remembered Stan’s statement in the ship, and the realization struck like a blow.

  What a fool I’ve been! How could I be so blind? So that’s what Stan meant by “Pam means a lot to me.” Am I so weak in her eyes that she has to protect me from Stan’s wrath?

  Al didn’t go back to camp but morosely sat on a log by the shore and looked west, watching the sun make its way toward the western horizon. He thought about Pam, about how much he cared for her, and the unexpected turn of events. He half expected Stan to come over and tell him to “stay away from my girlfriend.” He was angry enough that he wished Stan would come over. But Stan did not.

  __________

  Events began to move even more quickly than Al had anticipated. That evening, the expedition commander called a meeting of the platoon commanders at the headquarters. When Floyd returned, he called everyone together around the campfire.

  “I have some news. Seven ships are heading back to Halcyon with skeleton crews of six to become our supply line. In about two weeks, a ship ought to be arriving every two days. Three platoons will be sent to retake and hold Fort Linderhof. We’ll join that group, since we discovered the place. Our plan is to move to the deserted city in force and hold it. I don’t know why the ‘higher-ups’ think this place is so important, but we’re going to try very hard to control it.”

  “Who’s in charge of the expedition?” asked one of the newcomers.

  “Glenn MacDonald. You may remember he’s second in command of the naval base on Halcyon Island. He’s brought a crew from the installation. They make up the first four crack platoons. The First, Second, and Third platoons will be joining us at Fort Linderhof with Duncan McTavish, MacDonald’s lieutenant, leading us to Linderhof. Any other questions?”

  There were no further questions. “Okay, then, get some sleep now. We move at 0600 sharp,” he said. The group dispersed.

  When the three friends were lying in their bedrolls, Tom said, “This place still has bad memories for you, doesn’t it, Al?”

  “Am I that easy to read?”

  Tom just chuckled in response.

  ”Yes, you’re right, Tom,” continued Al. “I can still see Dave being overwhelmed by the ape¬men. It was horrible. Now we’re going back there, and I’m afraid. The fear of that place is beginning to gnaw at my gut. I don’t really think these cowboys from the naval station know what they’re getting into.”

  The next morning was overcast, promising rain. Four of the longboats were made ready as the four platoons gathered on the island shore. Duncan McTavish, the commander of this small expedition to Fort Linderhof, looked on in silence while Glenn MacDonald, the expedition commander, addressed the four platoons.

  “We’ve been observing the shore,” he said, “and we’ve seen no sign of life. Don’t use your rifles unless you absolutely must, since our ammunition is limited. If you do fire off a shot, make sure you pick up your expended shell casings. We can recharge them. If the shore is clear, move up to Fort Linderhof and secure it. Set up the winch and the rope ladder so we can resupply you or even evacuate you using the river in case of trouble. It’s important you make Linderhof as secure as possible so we can make our move toward the city.”

  The quiet optimism of MacDonald and McTavish filled Al with dread, but he said nothing, remaining quietly in the background with the rest of the Twenty-fifth Platoon.

  Their landing was not opposed; they didn’t see a single ape-man. Even at Fort Linderhof, there wasn’t a single corpse to be found from the many killed during the previous assault. When Al peered into the chasm, he saw no evidence of any bodies. To a keen observer, only broken weapons, black with dried blood, and empty shell casings indicated that a battle had recently taken place there.

  The crew put the winch and rope ladder in place, and hauled supplies up from the boats to the Fort Linderhof mesa. The slow process of preparing the fort for an assault on the city began to take shape. Floyd’s platoon worked on fortifying the mesa while scouting parties led by the First, Second, and Third platoons ranged to within sight of the city. There was no sign of any ape¬men or any other opposition. Even animal life seemed absent from the rocky spur that stretched from the deserted city to Fort Linderhof.

  One particularly curious development for Al was the appearance of Bertrand Hoffstetter at Fort Linderhof. Al hadn’t been aware that the physicist and senator had been part of the expedition, but seeing Hoffstetter Al assumed his cover would be blown and he’d have to report to McTavish to explain his presence on the mission. Fortunately, the summons never came.

  Although people displayed deference to Hoffstetter because of his status as a senator, his shipmates disliked him for his arrogance and air of superiority. Nevertheless, he seemed unaffected by the muted hostility and set up a tent by himself on the west side of the plateau. Hoffstetter passed close by Al on several occasions but appeared to take no notice of him, or perhaps he deliberately c
hose to not recognize him. Al wondered if he’d worried unnecessarily.

  Chapter 32 Return to the City of the Dead

  The initial scouting having shown no sign of opposition, McTavish proceeded, with all haste, to move his four platoons to take control of the dead city. Four new platoons were to take their place at Fort Linderhof and cover their retreat in case of attack while the advance party moved on the deserted city. Four small scouting parties from the First Platoon set out very early in the morning.

  This expedition had fuel cells to power short-range radios. By 8:00 a.m., Fort Linderhof received a communication from City Point, the name given to the island base that they were to proceed. The three remaining platoons, heavily laden with supplies, hurried down the path to the road. Marching quickly, they waved to the scouts who’d taken up observation positions along the way.

  At about 10:00 a.m., they reached the broken main gate of the city. Several soldiers from the first platoon ascended to the top of the first tower and set up a winch. They hauled supplies up onto the outer wall, and made their base camp on top of the wall near the main gate.

  Floyd’s platoon set up camp, while the other three platoons hurried off along the wall, retracing the route Dave, Pam, and Al had taken to the citadel. With a radio link established, Floyd was to report every hour to the main headquarters at City Point.

  Nothing happened for about forty-five minutes. Suddenly a tremendous explosion shattered the silence of the city. A cloud of dust rose from the mountainside. Floyd rushed to the radio and called headquarters. He returned, relief on his face.

  “They were sent to blow up the tower and block the cave entrance,” he said. “That was the explosion we heard. Those cowboys could have told us what they were up to rather than scaring the living crap out of us!” he exclaimed.

  Everyone went back to the task of setting up camp and barricading the top of the wall against attack. An hour later, the three platoons returned. Obviously weary, dusty, and stressed, the terrifying strain of the dead city showed on their faces.

  Once camp was established, Floyd’s platoon left the city to collect firewood. Lugging wood made for hard work and a long day. Al was getting hungry; he could smell the fires burning on top of the wall and the meals being prepared by the other platoons. The sun had begun to poke through the overcast sky, but now more clouds began to move in from the west, and soon the whole sky was overcast again.

  Late in the afternoon, a shout came from the wall that supper was ready. Al and Pam had not exchanged more than a couple of words all day. Al found her presence increasingly awkward, for although he wanted to speak to her, he dreaded another rebuff. Stan’s constant menacing presence only made things worse.

  They ate by platoons. Floyd’s platoon ate in silence. Al’s dread of this place had grown throughout the day. He thought, at first, that it was due to the memory of his last trip, but he also saw dread in the drawn and fearful faces of his companions. A nameless fear gnawed at the whole company. The only exception seemed to be Hoffstetter, who had come with the First Platoon. His face was enlivened by eagerness and impatience rather than fear.

  Finally, after supper, in the early evening, McTavish called the four platoons together and stood on the outer parapet facing them.

  “We’re going to spend the night here,” he said. “Tomorrow, if all is well, another four platoons will join us, and we’ll move to the citadel. I think we successfully blocked the tunnel, so we should be safe from attack from that quarter. Once we’re in the citadel, we’ll rig an escape route along the mountain wall in case we have any serious trouble. In any case, we ought to be able to barricade the inner gate and man that wall with our people. Any questions?”

  Al could feel the fear in the company. He wanted to pack up his gear—no, hang it all, leave his gear—and rush back to Fort Linderhof.

  Floyd was the only one with the courage to ask questions. “Why are we here? What are we looking for?”

  “I haven’t been told,” said McTavish. “I only know that I’m to secure the citadel and make it a base of operations. I’m a soldier, and I’m going to obey those orders without question.”

  “Maybe the senator,” said Floyd, gesturing at Hoffstetter, “could tell us why the senate is so interested in this city?”

  McTavish scowled and opened his mouth, but Hoffstetter waved him to silence.

  “Surely you can see,” said Hoffstetter, “how extraordinary a find this city represents to our community of Halcyon! A wholly alien city on our planet! This changes everything. The people of Halcyon, isolated and vulnerable as we are, must know without delay if this city or its potential inhabitants represent a danger to our small community. Then perhaps, with this early knowledge, we can take steps to build a defense. On the positive side, what if there are archeological and technological advances to be discovered here? We could learn much that could help us adapt to this world.”

  Beet red with rage, McTavish could contain himself no longer. “We’re here to obey the senate, not question them. Let’s have no more questions!

  “The Second Platoon will take the first watch, followed by the Third. The Twenty-fifth takes the morning watch. Dismissed! Linder, could I see you for a minute, please?”

  Al returned with the rest of his platoon to their camp on the wall nearest the main gate. As the dusk deepened, the company’s feelings of fear and despair increased palpably, and there was none of the cheerful banter that normally accompanied their time together.

  Fifteen minutes later Floyd returned, his expression livid. He sat beside Al. “McTavish reamed me out for challenging his authority with my impertinent question. He thinks we made up the story about the ape¬men.” He took off his hat and slapped it across his knee. “Since we have no military training, he figures we were so scared by this city we made up the story to save face.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” said Al.

  “I know, I know, but as McTavish pointed out, there are no bodies, no bones, or even skeletons. There were none in the upper city either!”

  “But they carried them off! We saw that in the citadel,” interrupted Al. “How does he explain the weapons?”

  “He doesn’t. His explanation doesn’t really hold together, but it means he doesn’t really trust our platoon. We will continue to get these ‘support assignments’ to keep us out of the way, and because McTavish doesn’t take our situation as seriously as he should, we’re all in more danger than before.”

  “And everything we say,” ventured Al, “will be taken as further evidence of our undisciplined paranoia and so will be disregarded?”

  “That’s right,” said Floyd.

  Al tried to get some sleep. However, the feeling of dread was so real that he couldn’t close his eyes. He left the tent. The darkness was so complete he couldn’t see either the inner or outer parapet of the wall. He made his way by feel to the outer wall and looked into the inky blackness toward Fort Linderhof. The dull glow of a distant fire at the fort was some comfort. The time passed slowly.

  He heard Tom whispering, “Are you out here, Al?”

  “I’m over here,” Al said softly. He felt an outstretched hand touch him as a shape loomed beside him.

  “I couldn’t sleep either,” said Tom. “Where did Dave get killed?”

  “Over by that tower that McTavish blew up. I do not want to talk about that now. Let’s wait until morning.”

  They sat in silence for a minute.

  “Tom?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “I’m your friend,” said Tom. “Of course I was going to come and get you. Anyway, it was Pam. She was the one who found out where you were, recruited us, and organized our little conspiracy. That’s one determined woman when she makes up her mind.”

  “No kidding. Anyway, I wanted to say thanks.”

  “You’re right about one thing though,” said Tom slowly and deliberately.

  “What’s that?”

&n
bsp; “My relationship with you and Dwight has changed. I’ve thought about it quite a bit since our last conversation.”

  “So why has our friendship changed?” asked Al.

  “I guess from where I sit, I thought you were taking liberties with our friendship to put an oar in where it wasn’t wanted. I don’t mean to be rude, but both you and Dwight are legalistic and don’t approve of my relationship with Lynn. I figured that was my business and none of yours, and I wanted to spare us all the embarrassment of tiptoeing around this disagreement.”

  “You’re right, of course, about our disagreement, but why does that make us legalistic?”

  There was a pause in the conversation. The utter darkness made this conversation almost like talking on the telephone. One had to glean all information about the other person’s reactions from their voice alone.

  “If Lynn and I love each other,” said Tom haltingly, “and we want to sleep together, what’s wrong with that? We just want to have a good time. Prove to me that it’s wrong. Making up arbitrary rules to say it’s wrong is legalistic.”

  Al’s feet scraped on the rock as he sat on a step. “Is anything wrong with anything?” he said.

  “What?” said Tom.

  “I’m trying to answer your question. Is there anything, anything at all, that is wrong?”

  “Of course there is!”

  “Like what?” said Al.

  “Well,” said Tom, “like murder, rape, stealing, genocide. What’s your point?” Tom’s voice had grown louder.

  “Well, let’s take murder,” said Al softly, as if he were discussing the weather, “what’s really wrong with murder? Prove to me that murder is wrong without being legalistic.”