by Chris Bostic
“How?” Pete said, but handed them over anyway.
“The light display from my helmet might be enough,” he replied, and felt confident the very weak glow couldn’t be seen through the heavy canvas.
Joe grabbed his helmet off the floor and held it over the wadded up paper. The display provided barely enough light for Leisa to find the mangled papers in the soft green glow.
“You made a mess of these,” she chided as she tried to quietly smooth out the papers.
“I never could fold a map,” he replied. “Not that I had the time.”
“I’ll give you that.” Leisa flattened out the pile, and the two of them glanced at it while Pete sulked in the corner.
“Looks like squiggles all over the page,” Joe said, but recognized it as some kind of topographic map. The countless ridges and valleys on the black and white page looked like miniature zebra stripes, and made about as much sense.
There were no words, or at least none in Joe’s language. He traced a finger over a few hand-printed scratches that looked more like crude cave drawings than any kind of language.
“These are the rivers,” Leisa noted, pointing to dashed lines winding below the curving, solid lines of rising ridgelines.
“So we just need to find ours,” Joe said. He looked for markings that might indicate the camp near a ridge top above a river, but found nothing on the first page. “Nothing here.”
Leisa flipped to the second page. They spotted a couple little villages on the second map along with tiny parallel dashed lines indicating some kind of small road. But neither of them recognized a single feature, especially not the roads.
Finally, once Leisa flipped to the third map, Joe’s finger zeroed in on a much bigger town on the final map.
“Nochni,” he said. “I’d recognize the way it forks. One bigger road from the south splits to two smaller ones going north.”
“And that’s base camp,” Leisa noted. The contours flattened out to the east of town, and the map showed a little airfield. “We went north out of Nochni, and up over several ridges before the savages hit.”
Joe circled a wide area on the map with his finger. “Probably up around here somewhere.”
He leaned in closer and soon found the dashed line indicating the stream, and traced it south until it grew into a bolder dashed line that he assumed to be the wider part of the river.
“Guess that means we’re around here,” Leisa said. “But what do these mean?”
Her slender finger pointed to a series of marks along a ridge that seemingly stretched for thirty miles or more. Some were v-shaped while others were more oval. Several scratchy marks looked like bars and arrows with some of them erased or scratched out.
Leisa pointed to one set of marks close to Nochni and said, “These look like chicken feet.”
“Huh? Kinda, I guess,” Joe replied. “I’d guess they’ve got something to do with troop movements, but I’m not sure if it’s ours or theirs.”
“If it’s theirs, then the savages are way to the south.”
“Yeah, right by Nochni,” Joe said, sitting back to digest the potential bad news. “And it looks like we’re at least ten miles from there.”
“If our guys are still there.”
“Right.”
Leisa neatly folded up the map while Joe remained back on his butt. He heard the soft wheeze of a sleeping Pete and shook his head again. The guy could sleep through anything, and Joe wasn’t going to bother to wake him up to share the news. Instead, he turned off his helmet, and slipped over to the door to see what was going on outside.
The camp had grown quieter while they had looked at the map. Joe looked through the crack for nearly a minute before he saw any type of movement. Dark shadows moved in the distance, but few and far between.
He focused in on the makeshift table, and spotted the two mounds resting untouched.
“At least there’s no buffet line,” he mumbled to himself. There was also no cloaked figure performing rituals over the lifeless men.
Eventually, as he sat and watched, the shadows evaporated into the night. Scattered lanterns still burned, but even lower since none of the savages had adjusted the fuel.
“It’s like they’ve all left,” Joe said softly.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, like this stupid idea of mine was crazy enough to work.”
“Don’t congratulate yourself yet,” Leisa said. “We’ve still gotta get outta here somehow.”
He nodded in agreement, but didn’t let that completely get him down. The lack of chirps, pops and clicks was encouraging. They stood a decent chance of sneaking out of the camp, and he turned to share that with a skeptical Leisa.
As they talked about how long they should wait before trying to bug out, Pete stirred in the back of the tent. Leisa shushed him, though Joe wondered if they shouldn’t be waking him up instead.
“Better to let him sleep,” she said.
“I wish I could.”
“Try it,” Leisa suggested. “If the savages are gone, they won’t be back for hours. You might as well rest a little.”
“There’s no way. I won’t sleep until we’re back to Nochni.”
“If we make it that far.”
“Why you gotta be like that?” Joe whispered. “You’re always-”
“Always what?” Leisa interrupted. “Being the realist?”
“It’s not so bad to have a little hope, is it?”
“Sounds funny coming from you.”
“Huh?” Joe said. “Since when…” His voice trailed off as he realized he hadn’t exactly been a shining beacon of hope either. Half the time he had thought about sneaking off into the woods and not even bothering to go back home.
“We all get discouraged,” Leisa said softly. “We just need a reason to press on.”
“What are you fighting for? Not the Regulators.”
“Oh, heck no.” She patted the pocket of her uniform shirt where she kept the mysterious picture. “I’ve got reasons besides my chickens to get me back alive.”
“I’ll bet you do,” Joe muttered. For the first time he was happy about the darkness. At least it kept her from seeing his sullen face.
“I’d hope somebody back home loved you too,” Leisa said, oblivious to what her words did to him.
“I suppose so. My folks could use the help, though turning up dead might be worth more to them.”
“Not in the long run,” Leisa said, chuckling as if she thought he was joking. Maybe he was, but his mood shifted so quickly Joe couldn’t be sure himself.
“It’s not exactly winning the lottery,” she added. “Our neighbor’s folks didn’t get much from the Republic when their son was killed. Besides, they’d have to know you’re really dead.” She chuckled a bit at that thought too.
“Then you can tell ‘em when you get out.” He laughed along, growing delirious from the anxiety and lack of sleep. “Tell ‘em about Danny and Laura and…”
“Kayla. And Connie.” She exhaled exhaustedly. “Yeesh. One of us has to get back.”
“Then maybe we should go,” Joe said, sliding back over to the tent flap.
He stared out the crack for an extended period. When nothing moved or made a sound, he pulled the zipper farther down. With his head partway out the door, the night air felt cool compared to the stuffy tent. He knew better than to think it was actually a crisp evening.
Humidity draped across the campsite, trapped by the ridge top above. The lanterns seemed even more faded than before, and he finally noticed the real reason. A hazy fog had settled in over the camp. If it kept thickening, it would make perfect concealment for hours.
“It’s still all clear,” he told Leisa, meaning no savages appeared to be around. “Wake up Pete and let’s get going.”
A groan answered his request, but not from the back of the tent. It was followed by a vaguely familiar deep voice from out by the makeshift table.
“Where am I?” the man croaked.
<
br /> CHAPTER 22
“Did you hear that?” Joe said, but Leisa hadn’t. He wondered if he was hearing things, but was too shocked by the prospect to delay. “Wake him up!”
“I’m trying,” Leisa replied as she continued tapping a very groggy Pete on the back.
“What is it?” He rolled over and cursed. “Can’t a guy sleep?”
“No,” Joe said. “I heard something.” Yet he hadn’t heard a single word since then.
“So we’re going out there?” Leisa seemed thoroughly confused, but Joe didn’t let on in case he was wrong.
“Yeah, it’s definitely time.” Joe shoved his helmet down on his head and picked up his coilgun from the floor. Pointing it toward the door, he waited impatiently for the others to get ready.
Pete was even slower than normal. Joe would’ve paced the tent if there had been enough room to do more than lean side to side and mutter under his breath.
“What’s the big deal?” Leisa asked, finally joining him at his side.
“Something about those two guys on the table. It’s…I dunno.”
“Oookay,” Leisa said. “You ready Pete?”
“Yeah,” he grumbled.
Joe didn’t bother waiting any longer. He slowly unzipped the tent the rest of the way to the ground, and paused for only a second to see if there was going to be any reaction to the sound. With no reply, he took a deep breath and crawled out the opening. A quick look to the sides showed nothing had changed. The tents he could see were all still standing untouched.
Staying low, he soldier-crawled on elbows and knees until his entire body was in the open. He gestured back for the others to follow, and crawled to the tent in front of theirs to give his companions enough room to come out.
Pete managed to hang up his boots in the door of the tent. The canvas shook as he wriggled his way loose. Joe kept his weapon trained on the darkness, his eyes flitting about. But nothing moved.
“This is too easy,” he muttered to himself, ready for a trap to spring. But there was no reason to waste time sitting and doubting. He crept to the side to get a look at the crate table, and noted with satisfaction that the two mounds were still there. One unmoving, but the larger man rolled to his side.
Joe watched dumbfounded as the man sat up right in front of him. He didn’t have to wonder if Leisa saw the same thing. She stopped at his side and cursed under her breath.
“Connie?” Joe exclaimed, and hopped to his feet. “It’s really you!”
The supposedly deceased Sergeant Constantine “Connie” Braddock turned toward the others and uttered, “What the-”
But the disheveled sergeant faltered and slumped over. Joe lunged for him but could only break his fall. Air escaped from Joe’s lungs with a whoosh as the much bigger man pinned his chest to the ground.
“Connie,” Leisa said, hurrying to extricate him from the pile.
“What in the world,” Pete exclaimed. “It’s not possible.”
“You’re dead,” Leisa said. She rolled him off Joe, and he tried to sit up again.
“Not yet,” Connie croaked. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
“I can’t believe it,” Pete exclaimed while Joe still struggled to breathe.
“Nice to see you guys…but where am I?”
“Right in the middle of the savages’ camp,” Pete said. “This is crazy.”
“Savages, eh?” Connie winked and cryptically said, “You don’t know the half.”
“I don’t know this other guy,” Leisa said, having gone to the table to check the unmoving lump.
“Me either,” Connie replied. “I think they tried to save him.”
To eat, Joe thought. It took all his strength to stretch enough to look past Leisa, and he was thoroughly disappointed to find out the other person wasn’t any of his other squad mates. But he knew they had all died before they’d left the cave. Connie should have been dead too.
“There’s no pulse,” Leisa replied, and returned to crouch next to Connie.
Joe continued fighting to suck air back into his lungs, and finally managed to ask the sergeant, “How?”
“How am I still alive?” Connie asked, and Joe nodded. “Well, they overran me. I sat there like an idiot out of ammo, no strength to even swing the empty gun.” Connie ran a hand across the tear in his uniform shirt. “Next thing I know I’m lying on my back in the cave. Some weird fella in a white jacket stuck his hand right in there. It burned like fire, and I must’ve passed out again.”
“Can you move?” Leisa asked, already trying to drag Connie to cover. Joe heartily approved, and was able to slide over to the sergeant’s other side to help her out.
“Actually, yeah.” Connie looked about twenty years older. The strength slowly came back to his voice the more he talked. “It’s weird, but it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
“Their doctors must be better than ours,” Pete said.
“If that’s what he was. He kinda reminded me of a shaman, you know…like a medicine man.”
“We’d better hurry,” Joe said, cutting the reminiscing short. “I really don’t feel like sticking around.”
“Then lead me on,” Connie said.
“As long as you don’t mind a girl helping,” Leisa said, sliding her shoulder under his and nodding to Joe to get ready to lift him up.
“You still have no business being out here,” Connie replied. His voice softened, and he groaned slightly as they tried to hoist him to his feet. “But I’m awful glad you’re here.”
Joe groaned louder than Connie and cursed under his breath as they gave it their all. His legs trembled as he steadied the big man, and he had to throw his coilgun aside to wrap an arm around his waist. It was no loss anyway. Joe hadn’t checked, but he assumed the power pack had fully drained by then.
Leisa was obviously struggling also. She dropped her weapon too. Pete hadn’t volunteered to help, but Joe figured that wouldn’t have made much of a difference. His buddy was a stick thin, fragile-looking fellow. Nor did he seem as mentally tough as Leisa, at least in Joe’s estimation. But he thought Pete might very well have to take over for one of them before they got too far.
They both ended up tossing their backpacks aside too. It wasn’t much of a loss for Joe, though he wondered if he would regret leaving their food behind. But there was no time to rummage around. It was only later that he would feel awful about leaving Laura’s doll in the enemy camp.
With Connie’s substantial weight finally balanced between the two of them, the group hobbled back in the direction of the tent where they had been hiding. Joe had no intention of stopping there, though he almost collapsed before he made it that far.
He had no idea the sergeant was that heavy, or that Connie really had little use of his legs. Joe realized he should have expected the latter, but the simple fact that the sergeant was alive and apparently in no pain was so surprising that he figured anything was possible.
They continued past their hiding place and pressed on, moving sideways along the hill.
“We can’t go straight down here,” Joe said. “We’ll roll all the way to the bottom.”
“At least we’d get there quicker,” Leisa said with gritted teeth.
Joe laughed, and had to stop for a second to gather up his feet underneath him.
“You sure you can’t walk?” he asked, already panting.
“Maybe,” Connie said. “I hadn’t really tried. I’m kinda comfortable watching you two pull your weight.”
Joe cursed under his breath again. “More like your weight.”
“No offense, but…you weigh a ton…sir,” Leisa said, adding the proper title to her jest.
“Seriously, though,” Connie said, “I’m still awful weak. I’ll try, but-”
“Hold on.” Joe ground his feet to a sudden halt. He felt like his boots sank into the soil as he stood with Connie’s weight bearing down on him, but that wasn’t the reason he stopped.
“What is it?” Leisa asked.<
br />
“Shh. Something’s moving.” He pointed with his free arm toward the tents in the distance.
“Great.” Leisa leaned over to apparently take some pressure off her back, and Joe hoped she wouldn’t drop Connie. It had been a huge struggle to simply pull him up.
“There it is again.” Dark shadows seemed to swirl from about five tents over. Joe could only hope it was the foggy mist being stirred by a breeze.
A clucking sound followed, dispelling any optimistic thoughts.
CHAPTER 23
“Hide!” Leisa said, lurching to the side, but it was too late.
A white-robed apparition stepped through the mist. Before Joe could react, the diminutive phantom turned and came straight for them. Worse yet, a pair of mustard-uniformed savages followed.
“Take ‘em out, Pete,” Joe growled. He leaned to the side to finally follow Leisa’s lead—and to give Pete an angle to fire.
Connie tried to say something, but Pete spoke over him, saying, “I don’t have my gun.”
“What?” Joe froze and whirled his head around.
“You guys dropped yours.”
“Great.”
It was too late to do anything else. The cloaked figure closed the distance. Mysteriously, the accompanying savages chose not to raise their weapons. Stopping one tent away, the phantom tilted his perfectly normal, human-sized head to the side. His small, dark eyes trained on the group.
“It’s okay,” Connie whispered to his companions.
Joe stood dumbfounded as the man raised his arms out to the side. His long sleeves billowed, which made him look like a short, stocky ghost. His mouth opened, but not a sound came forth.
“What the heck?” Pete said, echoing Joe’s thoughts.
Joe was transfixed and decided against running, not that he could have carried Connie anyway.
With arms still outstretched, the man took a step toward the group. Joe’s knee buckled, and he staggered in place to keep Connie upright.
At that movement, the strange man’s lips curled in an uncomfortable grin. Joe expected to see the pointed piranha teeth of the savages, but the shaman displayed nothing but square white teeth.