by Chris Bostic
“That’s our lines!” Joe knew it wouldn’t do him any good to hop up and yell and wave. The hover was probably a mile away, but that was solid confirmation of good news—and a whole lot closer than he’d expected.
“Sucks we can’t signal them,” Leisa said.
Joe nodded, and added, “If Connie still had his helmet, it’d be simple to get ‘em on the radio.”
“How easy would that be?” Leisa’s smile turned to a pout. “But this is great.”
“Yeah, that’s probably why the savages all bugged out. If the hovers are flying, then we’ve got control of the battle. Shoot, we’re almost kinda safe.” For the first time in days, relief washed over him in all its joyousness. “We’re so close now.” He continued sitting there soaking in the moment.
Leisa jumped to her feet. “We need to tell Pete.”
“Heck yeah. Let’s do this.” Joe hopped up too. “We seriously will be home by breakfast.”
“I can’t wait,” Leisa said with a dreamy look, but it was so tempered by exhaustion that Joe thought she looked like she could sleep for a week. “At least it’ll be a breeze going downhill.”
“Too bad we gotta go right back up again.” He remembered his promise to be more positive, and quickly added, “But not to worry. We’ve got this.” He put on his helmet and pulled at Leisa to drag her back to their companions.
“Says you. I’m so tired I don’t know if I’ll make it up.”
Joe whirled around and couldn’t resist teasing her. “Don’t be such a girl.”
Leisa jammed her helmet on her head. Her normally gentle eyes blazed with rage. “I might take that from Sarge, but I’ll never take that from you.”
“Are you two done bickering?” Pete asked over the communicator, making Joe cringe. He hoped he hadn’t said anything too sappy or stupid, but didn’t bother to take the time trying to remember what parts of their conversation might have been transmitted over the helmets. Mostly, he knew that Leisa seemed particularly aggravated by his wisecrack.
He covered his microphone, and whispered, “You know I was just kidding.”
“Of course. But it helps get me fired up.”
Joe knew that steely determination would come in handy. Unfortunately, he would need more than nasty looks to get Connie moving. He needed both of his companions to help him get the big man off the stretcher so they could move it to the other side of the ridge. The spine was too rocky and sharp-crested to try to carry him over the top while on the sled.
After hurriedly sharing the good news about friendly lines and a hovercraft not far off in the distance, they went to work. With simple directions and some grumbling from Pete, they rolled Connie off the sled and took it to the other side. Then they came back for the sergeant.
“His breathing is really shallow,” Leisa noted. She knelt by him and pressed a hand to the side of his thick neck. “His heart’s racing too.”
“Fever?” Joe asked.
“Huge.”
She looked to the sky as if offering a prayer. That certainly wasn’t an approved activity in the Republic, but Joe figured the whole rule book was out the window at that point. He offered up quick, hopeful words of his own, and went to grab Connie’s legs.
“You guys each take an arm, and we’ll move him across.”
It was far easier said than done.
CHAPTER 29
They picked up major speed going downhill. Joe figured Connie probably would have loved it under different circumstances, but he had slipped into unconsciousness. He had barely even moaned when they had unceremoniously dropped him back on the stretcher.
Joe wasn’t enjoying the downhill slope very much. He went backwards one careful step at a time, pushing against the sled to keep it from going too fast. Pete could be no help at all from behind the sled, leaving only Leisa at the front to help him.
“Let me know when to turn,” Joe kept saying repeatedly to Pete.
“Now,” Pete replied. “Veer left…I mean your left.”
Leisa shoved at her handle to little effect. “We’re trying.”
Joe ended up scraping his back on a tree as they barely slipped the sled past. He wondered if they shouldn’t park the sled up against a trunk to rest for a moment, but tossed the thought aside when he looked at Connie’s face.
Having felt the heat radiating from his sergeant’s body, Joe expected the man’s face to be as red as his own. Connie was equally sweaty, but his face was paler than Joe could have ever imagined.
“We’re losing him,” he muttered.
Leisa took that to mean something else, and said, “I’ve still got him. We’re doing good.”
“No, Leis. We’re losing him.”
“Oh, that.”
Joe looked over his shoulder to see how much farther they had to go to make it to the base of the hill. To his dismay, they were nowhere near the bottom. Nothing but leafy green filled his vision, and that was darkening more rapidly by the second. Nightfall was on them, which meant enemy troops might be on the prowl again.
“Look out,” Pete said. “You need to go left again.”
Joe shoved against the sled. It resisted moving, so he dug in his feet to slow it down. With Leisa’s help, he jerked it far enough to the side to slip past another tree trunk, and they continued down the hill again.
Branches struck at Joe’s helmet. No doubt they made a huge racket as they tromped through the forest, but Connie was quiet. Even the moaning had stopped. As they kept going, Joe visually checked him frequently, searching for any sign of life.
Connie’s chest barely fell. The only hint of possible breathing was the way his mouth hung open slightly and sometimes quivered noiselessly.
As Connie’s fever burned him up, Joe’s legs burned from fighting the load. His palms stung from gripping the rough wooden handles. He figured he had a couple splinters by then, but there was no time to stop. It was a small price to pay if they could get the sergeant to a medic.
“Back to the right,” Pete commanded. “It’s a hard turn.”
“Can’t be harder than the last one,” Leisa joked through clenched teeth.
They fought to slow the sled, but couldn’t get it to turn enough. A tree suddenly appeared between Joe and Leisa, and the sled ground to a halt up against the trunk.
“Great, we’ve wedged it tight,” Leisa said, standing back to gasp for air.
Joe put his hands behind his head as he considered the predicament. The sled was perfectly centered around a good-sized tree, putting one handle on each side of the trunk.
“Nice parking job,” Pete joked. “Looks like you guys needed a rest anyway.”
“We do.” Joe pointed to Connie. “He doesn’t.”
“Let me help,” Pete said, moving below the sled to grab the handle on Leisa’s side.
“I’ve got this,” she said sharply. “I don’t need your help now.”
“Calm down, woman.”
Her eyes sparked with fury. Even in the low light, Joe could practically see the malice dripping from them. He quickly intervened.
“We’ll all have to work together to get out of this jam.” He gestured toward the back side of the sled, indicating for Pete to push from the side. “We’ll have to shove it back up and over enough to get the handles loose.”
“All right,” Pete said, letting go of the handlebar so Leisa could retake her place. “Let’s do this.”
“Push on three,” Joe said. “One…two…three.”
They gave it their all. The sled barely budged. They tried again and managed to move a little up the hill and to the side, but not nearly enough to come loose. The makeshift stretcher slid back against the tree. Rather than centered, at least it was a little closer to one side.
“Whew, this is rough,” Pete said.
“He’s a load.” Joe stood back to consider the options. He decided on undoing the lashings that fastened on the handles. It wouldn’t be simple, but they were about out of alternatives.
Pete of
fered up a faster plan. “Let’s all push from the back here, and we can maybe spin the sled off the tree.”
Joe looked at Leisa, who simply shrugged a reply. If it worked, it would be quicker than tearing the sled apart, and Joe was more worried about speed than anything else.
“It’s worth a shot,” he replied.
Pete went to the back corner where the bulk of the sled rested on the ground, and Joe slipped in next to him.
“You’re being awful helpful all of a sudden,” Joe whispered.
“I’m just ready to get home…and you’re telling me our lines aren’t far from here.”
“Well whatever the reason, thanks for helping.”
Leisa interrupted them to ask, “What should I do? I can’t fit by you guys.”
“You can push on the handle,” Pete said to Leisa, tapping the wooden pole running between him and Joe. Then he turned to his friend. “Forget the three count and let’s do this.”
“Here goes.” Joe shoved with all his might.
With their combined strength and a new direction of attack, they found it much easier to move the sled to the side. Too easy, exposing a potentially fatal flow.
The sled went sideways in one shove, freeing the handle from the tree. But there was no one downhill to slow it.
Joe watched in horror as the sled pulled away from him. He dove for it, but found nothing to grab as the wood slipped from his fingers and picked up speed.
Leisa shrieked and ran after the sled, which bounced over the rough terrain. Pete and Joe ran too, but there was no way to catch it.
The sled deflected off a couple smaller trees and flew past several larger ones, miraculously missing several direct collisions. But it wouldn’t remain that lucky.
Not far from the bottom, the sled hit a fallen log at full speed. Joe slowed and threw a hand to his mouth as the sled flipped and soared through the air. Connie came loose, launching like a missile.
The sled crashed to the ground and broke up. Connie sailed a little higher before coming back to Earth with a sickening crunch. His limp body flopped and rolled all the way to the base of the hill, trailed by his shrieking subordinates.
“Sarge!” Joe yelled.
Sliding and stumbling, but not slowing down, he scrambled the rest of the way down the hill. Leisa was already by their sergeant’s side, trying to roll him over.
Connie’s body had twisted awkwardly on impact. One leg seemed to be bent at the wrong angle, but Joe was more concerned about getting the man’s face out of the dirt. He helped Leisa roll him over, and sat back when he caught his first glimpse of Connie’s scratched face. A helmet might not have been enough to save him, Joe thought, but the poor guy wouldn’t have been so gashed and muddied.
At least Connie’s eyes were still closed, otherwise Joe knew he might’ve cried like a baby on the spot. Regret hit him like a sledgehammer, and Joe shouldered all the blame for letting the sergeant slide down the hill to his death.
“There’s a pulse,” Leisa said, pulling Joe from his stupor.
“No way.”
“You can check it.” She sat back and removed her fingers from Connie’s neck.
“I believe you,” he said. “I just don’t believe it.”
Joe turned to the sound of footsteps, expecting Pete to have finally joined them. Instead, a bird chirped.
“What the…” Joe scanned through the woods. Pete was nowhere to be seen. The darkness had settled in especially deep in the valley, though Joe could see well enough to have spotted his buddy if he had been close.
Leaving Leisa on her knees next to Connie, Joe rose to get a better look farther into the forest. “Pete? Where are you?”
Clucking voices replied, and Joe’s blood froze in his veins.
A garbled sound carried through the eerie woods. “Joe! Help!” And it faded as quickly as it came, replaced with more chirping than Joe had ever heard before.
CHAPTER 30
“Joe, is that…” Leisa’s voice tapered off. He didn’t need to answer her.
The woods came alive with movement. The sickly hue of dirty, mustard-colored uniforms filled the forest all around them.
Pete shrieked from somewhere up the hillside. The bushes thrashed in what sounded like an epic struggle. More howls and clucks carried to Joe’s ears followed by a final scream. Then all grew silent again.
Joe couldn’t have run to Pete. A huge band of savages closed on him and Leisa with rifles raised and murder in their dark eyes. And the putrid smell of spoiled fish.
He shrank back to the ground and kneeled next to Leisa. From the corner of his eye, he watched her kiss her fingers and tap them to the pocket of her shirt.
He wanted to tell her something, anything, to let her know it would be all right. Nothing came to mind. He refused to raise his hands in surrender, but didn’t immediately fight back either. As the swarm enveloped them, he took her hand and said, “I love you.”
“I love-”
A savage ripped Leisa away from him. He tried to stay with her, but the butt of a gun crashed down on his helmet, knocking it off. A bolt of lightning tore through his brain. He slumped to the forest floor as the world turned to a swirl of black and gray and that appalling mustard color.
The overwhelming stench assaulted his nostrils as he wilted onto the ground unable to move. He wanted to turn, to keep track of Leisa or Connie. And when he finally found the strength to lift his head, he was rewarded with a sharp kick in the stomach.
Clucking surrounded him like he was in the midst of Leisa’s chicken pen. He looked her way without lifting his head that time, and thought he caught sight of her still by Connie, clutching onto him and pleading with the animals to leave him alone.
“Leis…” he called for her weakly. She turned her head. Through narrow gaps between the savages surrounding her with bayonets, he thought he saw tears running down her face. He rose to hands and knees.
Rifles slammed into his chest and back. Despite his armor, more than one rib cracked. He slumped to the ground again under a flurry of blows.
We were so close, he thought. Tears of his own filled his eyes, but he fought them off and tried to keep still. It was his only hope. He figured they might finally grow tired of walloping him if they thought he was dead.
The beatings stopped, though Joe was barely conscious enough to recognize it. Next thing he knew, he was lifted off the ground.
The clucking all around him turned to tongue pops mixed with chirping. Between the pain throughout his whole body and the cacophony of the strange language, his head swam. But he heard Leisa talking. Keeping his eyes closed, he heard her pleading for help for Connie—and for him.
The animals laughed and taunted her in return, but that seemed to be all. He prayerfully thanked every deity imaginable that they’d left her alone. Terrified, but seemingly unharmed.
Then he lost consciousness.
Joe woke to find darkness fully settled in. He blinked his eyes open and found himself staring at the even blacker tree canopy overhead. Strange pressure filled his chest. He remembered the beating he had taken at the hands of the savages. But he also felt as hot all over as if he’d sucked down an entire canteen of hot coffee. Energy buzzed inside him like a stomach full of wasps, and just about as painful.
He tried to roll over, but couldn’t even turn his head. His arms felt bound, or maybe he couldn’t move them either. He couldn’t be sure of anything other than the pain in his chest.
Then he heard his angel’s voice.
“Please,” Leisa was saying over and over. “Please save him. You can save him, right?” She exhaled in her usual, exasperated way. “Can you even understand me? Please help him.”
Joe tried to call her name. It came out as no more than a croak. He couldn’t pull in enough air to moan.
But someone was moaning, he thought, and then realized it was more of a hum.
He blacked out again.
His whole body hummed, and for a while it felt like he was l
ost in a fog. He opened his eyes expecting to see himself floating in the clouds, but he was back in the woods with an actual misty fog settling in.
His tight, sore ribcage wouldn’t allow him to squeak out more than a weak, “Leisa.”
“Save your voice,” Connie replied from somewhere close, shocking him to the core. “She’ll be there in a second.”
Joe knew he had to be imagining things. The guy had been seconds from death when the savages had appeared, and Joe was certain he had been passed out for a while himself.
“Leisa,” he said again, finally feeling a little stronger.
“Calm down, lover boy,” Connie said with a chuckle. “She’s off checking on Pete.”
Joe still couldn’t believe Connie was still alive, much less talking. “Sarge? You’re okay?”
“Kinda.” There was a long pause. “I’d come over, but my leg doesn’t work real good. I guess they can’t reset it all the way or something.”
The bad leg part made sense. Nothing about the sergeant actually being alive seemed logical. Joe’s muddled mind remembered the wicked leg injury from Connie’s airborne escapades. Then he realized something else.
“You said they? Did our guys find us?” A long pause left Joe unsettled. “Sarge?”
“Not exactly.”
“Meaning…”
“The white robes are back.”
Before Joe could answer any more questions, he was assailed by a mop of brown hair and a hug that was way too tight. His armored jacket was already unzipped, allowing Leisa to slip her arms around his waist and continue squeezing with a vice grip.
“You’re finally awake.” Leisa sobbed until tears dripped from her cheeks onto his face. He swore his body was so hot the droplets would sizzle. “I’ve been so worried.”
“You’re okay?” he managed, though barely able to suck in a breath with her crushing embrace.
“I’m fine.” She sat back on her heels. “But, uhm…dang. How do I say this?” She stared at the heavens for an extended time and sighed. “Pete’s gone. I’m sorry. They couldn’t save him.”