Waging War

by April White

  She pulled a small gold band out of her pocket and slipped it on her ring finger, holding her hand up to admire the wedding ring. “Henri took care of me. He protected me so I could protect all the other people who needed me. He fueled my strength with his own.”

  She stroked the ring gently, lost in thought, then finally slipped it off her finger and put it back in her pocket. “I pretend he’s still alive, you know, still waiting for me to come home. Because frankly love, without someone like him, someone strong and capable for me to lean on, I’m almost all used up.”

  I waited for the punchline, something to explain why she had shared so much with me – a stranger.

  She exhaled and jerked her head toward the door. “They don’t know about Henri. They don’t know I pretend he’ll be there when this is done. They don’t know anything that would loosen my grip or call my leadership into question.”

  She stood up and straightened the buttons on her blouse. “There’s room for both of us, Elian, but don’t challenge my authority in front of the Maquis. Behind closed doors is fine, but not in front of men who expect a woman to be weak. In this world, neither of us can afford that.”

  I finally found the strength in my voice to speak. “I’m sorry for your loss, Nancy. Actually, those words don’t even begin to cover how deeply sorry I am.”

  Her eyes held mine, and then she nodded once as if to say, it’s done. But I wasn’t done yet.

  “You’re right, I’m just here for the Englishman, and you’re the one who’s been fighting the war. And yeah, it might be stupid to care about keeping two jerks alive just for the information they have. But finding the spy will save lives. You may not care so much about one guy when you’re planning to blow up a whole train, but isn’t that the point of this whole thing? Some of those train passengers might not be soldiers, and might not even be German. If you’re not protecting those people – the ones living their lives, just trying to survive this war – then what are you all fighting for?”

  She held my gaze for a long time without a word before she finally opened the door. Archer stood outside wearing a worried expression as he searched my face.

  “I don’t envy you, Devereux.” Nancy pushed past him down the hall of the farmhouse.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked me quietly.

  “I don’t know.”

  We had reached the main room where Ringo waited for us. He shot me a raised eyebrow and a quick smile. I sent the same thing back to him.

  Nancy stopped and turned to me. “You can come tonight. And I’ll try not to kill your snipers on purpose.”

  That startled me, but I kept the surprise off my face and composed myself enough to ask, “Do we go in a vehicle or on foot?”

  Something in her tone had shifted. The intensity was gone and had been replaced with her characteristic ease and confidence. The switch unsettled me with its speed, but if she could let it go, I could too.

  “We travel by bicycle. You do ride, don’t you?” She wore the hint of a teasing smile.

  I had a sudden mental snapshot of the old banana-seat bicycle my mom found in a thrift store when I was about six. She tied a piece of plastic onto the right handlebar to teach me my left from my right, then ran alongside me, holding the seat while I got my balance. I didn’t even know she had let go when I finally got it, and for a long time after that, I used to picture those handlebars in order to choose the right direction.

  “Yes, I ride.” I didn’t miss Ringo’s tension though. “But it’s been a long time. Can I have ten minutes on a bike to practice?”

  Nancy said something to one of the young Maquis fighters and he indicated I should follow him. I caught Ringo’s eye and he left the room with me. Archer might have gone with us, but Nancy called out to him from the map table. “Devereux, I need you.” He winced just enough to make me smile, then joined her at the table.

  The young Maquis wheeled an old-fashioned bicycle out of a shed and brought it to me with a smirk. I thanked him in French and he stood, arms crossed, waiting to see me make a fool of myself. So I shot him my best arched-eyebrow glare and he finally got the hint that I didn’t want an audience.

  Ringo and I walked around to the back of the barn with the bicycle, and he murmured under his breath, “Tell me about Nancy.”

  “She’s pretty badass,” I murmured back, “but I’m still not sure I like her.”

  “Yeah, sometimes ye badass people are ‘ard to like.”

  He got an elbow to the ribs for that one, and when we turned the corner I whispered to him. “You’ve never ridden a bicycle, I take it?”

  “Ye’d be right at that.”

  “Okay. I’ll show you.” I got on the bike and did a quick pedal around the yard. The frame was made of solid steel and it felt like a beach cruiser with skinny tires and an uncomfortably hard leather seat. The only brake was a single hand grip, so stopping was sketchy, but putting my feet down helped.

  “I’ll hold on until you get your balance,” I said quietly. Ringo nodded and got on, and for about fifteen feet I walked next to him, holding the seat like my mom had done for me.

  “Okay, let go,” he murmured, and only wobbled a little when I did. He bit his lip in concentration as he pedaled, but within one lap around the yard, the intensity had been replaced by a grin that lit up the night.

  Archer found us there about ten minutes later, and immediately caught on to what had just happened. He stood next to me and said quietly, “He didn’t know how to ride?”

  “He does now,” I said proudly. We watched Ringo do a figure eight maneuver around a barrel and then come to a running stop in front of us. His face was flushed with pleasure.

  “Well, why didn’t ye tell me ridin’ was such fun?”

  “Wait until you try a mountain bike.”

  The look of astonishment on his face was awesome. “There’s one of these built for mountains?”

  Archer grinned at his enthusiasm, but his smile slipped when he turned to me. “Nancy and two of her men are ready to leave. If we are going with them, we need to get moving.”

  I suddenly felt woefully unprepared to face the two snipers I’d hidden from just a few hours before. The only thing I had with me were my daggers, which I wore in small nylon and Velcro holsters strapped to my calves, because I didn’t like guns and wouldn’t have taken one if it were offered. I didn’t think Ringo was armed, although he could have been packing a sonic screwdriver for all I knew. And Archer certainly didn’t need the pistol he carried tucked into the back of his waistband. It was probably more for show than because he’d actually use it. People might have wondered why a guy would go around unarmed in a war.

  Nancy’s bicycle had a basket on the front, and she saw my questioning glance into it. “Supplies,” she said cryptically. Two other bikes were parked there waiting for us, and the two men with Nancy gave us twin looks of boredom as we mounted up. The basket had made me think of Toto’s prison on Miss Gulch’s bicycle in The Wizard of Oz, so the taller guy became Tin Man, and the short, skinny one became Scarecrow. They must have understood English because Nancy didn’t bother to speak French as she gave us quick directions. According to my gut, neither of the two Maquis with us seemed to be Mongers, so at least they had that going for them.

  The quiet clatter of pedals was the only noise on the road as we cycled past the fields of the occasional farm. The night was moonless, which would work to our advantage when we got in range of hiding snipers, but wasn’t great in unfamiliar landscape. Nancy knew her way though, and we followed behind her like ducklings.

  After about twenty minutes, Nancy pulled her bicycle over to the side of the road, and we all coasted to a stop near her. She spoke quietly to her Maquis, and they pulled their bikes off the road and melted into the woods in about a minute. Then she turned to the three of us.

  “The bridge is about a kilometer ahead. My men will fan out to approach from either side, so I suggest we stay here, on the north side.”

  Ringo a
nd I both looked up at the same time. In our experience, no one else ever did, so up we would go to scout. There was a tall tree about twenty feet away from us, and another one about twice that distance away on the other side of the road. I looked at him. “Right tree or left?”

  “You should take left. It looks an easier climb,” he smirked

  “None of your sass, Mister. You owe me for the riding lesson.”

  He grinned at me, then turned to Nancy. “Do ye ‘ave binoculars among yer supplies?”

  I was surprised he thought to ask. His reading about technology must have been pretty extensive. Nancy raised an eyebrow at his emphasis on her supplies but handed over a compact pair. “I take it you’re planning to scout?” she asked.

  Ringo nodded. “Seems a smart thing to do.” He slung the binoculars around his neck as she moved away to give the Maquis her instructions. I was about to protest, but he cut me off. “Ye ‘ave cat eyes. Ye don’t need these.”

  He was right, of course. My own vision was sharper than most, and if I really needed cat eyes, I could Shift and borrow my Cougar’s long-distance vision. It wasn’t a bad idea for scouting in general, and I tucked it away for consideration.

  Ringo took off for the far tree, and I sent Archer a quick smile before I scrambled up the closer one. It was fairly densely-branched and easy enough to climb, but there were only a couple of spots that gave me a good view of the valley ahead. I was about twenty feet off the ground when I finally laid myself out along a nearly horizontal limb and settled in to scan the forest.

  I could see the train trestle bridge in the distance. If I ran it, I could probably get there in about ten minutes, and faster still on a bicycle. When I twisted around to see what was behind my tree, I could see the dark outlines of Archer and Nancy by the side of the road. She was using hand gestures to show him where her guys had gone, and I could just make them out as they lurked through the forest toward the bridge.

  I studied the horizon for the high points where the snipers might be hiding. Several of the trees just north of the bridge looked promising. The southern ones were tall, but the topography of the valley put them lower than the bridge. The train the Maquis intended to blow would be coming from the south, which might also argue for the northern trees. I thought if I were going to set charges on a bridge, I’d set them on the northern side so more of the train was already on it before it exploded and collapsed. It was a little scary that I was trying to think like a terrorist, and scarier still that it seemed so easy to do.

  I focused my attention on a stand of trees about halfway between the one I was in and the bridge. It’s where I would have set up camp if I’d wanted to keep an eye on the northern approach to the trestle. I couldn’t see real detail in the trees, and the branches were fairly thick, so I doubted I’d even be able to see in daylight.

  But then a tiny pinprick of light flared about two-thirds of the way up the farthest tree, and I realized what they said was absolutely true. Smoking could kill a person.

  After memorizing the terrain between my tree and the snipers’, I scrambled back down my tree and sprinted back over to where Archer and Nancy waited. Ringo ran up right behind me. “You saw that?” he asked a little breathlessly.

  I nodded and spoke to Archer. “There’s a stand of tall trees, maybe half a kilometer from here, with a clear shot of the north side of the bridge. They’re in that.”

  “How do you know?” I couldn’t tell if Nancy believed me.

  “Saw a lighter spark.”

  She nodded like she’d expected it. “It’s why I quit smoking myself. The smokers were always the first ones hit in the trenches during the Great War.”

  Not to mention the cancer, I almost said, but just caught myself in time.

  “We should split up and approach from either side,” Nancy continued. “Archer and I have the firepower, so we’ll take the lead.” She held up her hand to halt my protest before it could form. “We won’t actively aim to kill, but I’d like to get them out of those trees, and even better if they run.” I nodded, and she continued. “You two follow us in case they do make a break for it. If I had to guess, I’d say they have a vehicle stashed somewhere in the woods near the road up ahead. If they run, be ready to cut ‘em off.”

  Archer looked like he was about to protest Nancy’s arrangement, but I was already nodding. “Sure. That sounds fine. Ringo and I are both climbers, so we can keep an eye on them from whatever tall trees we come across.”

  Archer’s expression darkened. I thought the protectiveness thing must be kicking in again for him to be annoyed, although Nancy seemed pleased enough with the arrangement. She started off through the brush, but Archer hung back.

  “What? I’ll be fine.” I dared him to challenge my ability to stay safe, but instead he grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a rough kiss. I gasped against his mouth, and he broke away and glared at me for a second before following Nancy through the brush.

  I stared after him, then turned to Ringo. “What the hell was that?”

  Ringo shrugged. “Probably jealous. Might ‘ave a little fear and concern mixed in for good measure, but ‘e’s mostly just green-eyed.”

  “About what?” Nothing Ringo said made sense to my brain.

  “About us. ‘E thinks ye chose me.” Then Ringo nodded to my clothes. “Ye goin’ to lose those?”

  My mouth definitely dropped open. Had everyone around me suddenly gone insane?

  “Excuse me?”

  Ringo’s eyes widened, and then he doubled over. My first thought was that he’d somehow just been shot, until I realized his shoulders were shaking with laughter. “What’s so funny?”

  “Ye thought I meant we …” He pointed back and forth between us. “I meant ye should lose the clothes so ye can Shift and go as the Cat.”

  Oh. My face flamed and the twelve-year-old in me wanted to punch him. So I tried for poise instead. “Right. That’s what I was thinking. Can you carry my stuff, or will I need to stash it near the bikes?”

  Ringo was still snickering to himself. “I can carry it.” He graciously turned his back to me, and it took me about twenty seconds to strip down and pile everything, including my daggers, onto my boots. I tucked my underwear into the pocket of my trousers – he didn’t need to be messing with those.

  The Shifts were getting easier, especially the practical ones that weren’t driven by emotion. My Cougar and I said hello to each other, and I prowled around scenting things while Ringo tucked my stuff into something he could wear slung over his shoulder.

  “Try not to get shot, will ye?” He still had a smirk in his voice, so I butted into his knees and made him stumble. My Cat didn’t care about poise. I took off at a full sprint and Ringo cursed under his breath. I knew it wasn’t for the hit, but for the fact that I was so much faster than him in this form.

  It was exhilarating to run in Cougar form. My night vision was pretty spectacular, and I was able to keep to the shadows, even on the moonless night. I slowed to a fast slink to give Ringo a chance to catch me, and even at the much slower human ninja pace, we still made great time.

  I scented Archer and Nancy ahead of us and leapt into the branches of a big oak to see what I could of the terrain. Ringo waited at the bottom, and I thought, with some satisfaction, that he sounded a little winded.

  The snipers’ nest was just ahead of us, and Archer and Nancy were sticking close to a line of underbrush that hid them from the view of anyone in the upper branches. Nancy had taken the lead, and I snickered as she walked through a spiderweb and did the get-it-off dance to knock it away from her face. Their position was a good one for invisibility, except, I realized with the equivalent of a mental scream, the snipers weren’t both in the tall trees. One of them, Grunty from the size of him, was positioned at the base of the tree in which his comrade was perched.

  And Grunty had just seen Nancy’s spiderweb dance.

  Fire-Fight

  He was utterly silent as he hoisted his rifle to his sh
oulder and looked for the source of the motion. The silence was a good thing, because at least Loogie might still be unaware of them, but Grunty would find them in about ten seconds if he had a night vision scope. It was technology Ringo had assured me the German army had begun to use, and who better to have scopes than snipers?

  I growled with as much menace as I could throw into my Cougar’s voice and leapt out of the tree. Ringo dove out of my way as I barreled through the brush, straight toward the tree where Grunty stood. I pushed every muscle I had into a full sprint because I was about to have two sniper scopes trained directly on me. I just hoped Archer would figure out that he needed to get himself and Nancy out of sight.

  The first bullet came from above and hit the ground about five feet behind me. That meant Grunty couldn’t see me yet, but Loogie had me in his sights, though his judgement of my speed was off. Right, well, he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  I shifted direction suddenly, lunging to my left just as another bullet hurtled down from above. He was still a tad slow, though his judgement was getting better.

  But I was smarter.

  I leapt up the trunk of a tree, ran along an arterial branch, and jumped across the open space to the next tree. Loogie hadn’t been expecting that, and only shot into the first tree long after I had already left its branches. I didn’t know where Ringo was, but I hoped he was staying out of sight. Archer and Nancy were still in danger if Grunty decided the human threat was bigger than the feline one, so I zig-zagged out in the open a couple of times, just so Loogie would let loose a volley of shots and keep Grunty’s attention on me.

  One of those shots actually came from the side where Archer and Nancy had taken cover. It went wide and high, so I hoped Archer had gotten a good hit in on Nancy when he realized she was aiming at the Cougar. The side shots stopped after that, so I guessed he had.

  The overhead cover was thinning, and there were only a couple more places I could see to dodge the bullets that now fired from both sniper weapons. I altered my speed and direction with each step, but dirt clods and rocks were hitting me as bullets ricocheted off the ground. A big boulder loomed ahead, and I darted behind it, just as a Grunty shot split the hairs on my tail.