Jennings' Folly

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Jennings' Folly Page 12

by Thomas C. Stone


  It was wild, untamed country, raw in its nature. The only law came from those who were properly prepared to survive, not just in material, but in attitude.

  I watched a hawkish predator floating on the air a hundred meters above me, its shadow the only thing moving across the land until I saw motion at an outcropping two hundred meters up the hill and adjacent to the road.

  Now, I have excellent vision. I’m a good shot and my hand-eye coordination is as good as anyone I knew. Better than Uncle Pat and he is the best I know with fast hands, although Phineas is pretty quick too. So, when I think I see something, I usually have. I watched the spot for a few minutes, concentrating, remaining still. I smelled flowers on the air, not unusual in Dredelian summers.

  Turning, I went back to my horse and slipped the Vimbacher from its long holster. The mare didn’t have a name, but she was smart enough to keep an eye on what was going on. She raised her head from the treats growing at the base of the gate and put her nose to the air.

  As I walked in a direct line to the suspected spot, the same spot where the mare stared, I flicked on my rangefinder and looked through the scope. Switching through the modes, I searched for heat radiation, energy signatures, and finally, an algorithm that looked for form imitating form, that is, something trying to hide itself by adapting its stance to its surroundings. I got a null set, but continued to move forward anyway. I was certain I had seen something.

  I had cut the distance in half when I heard the sound of what one would imagine were claws scuttling across a rocky surface. Whipping about, I scanned a quick three-sixty and found nothing. If there were more than two, I wouldn’t stand a chance in the open and there I was, standing in the middle of the road.

  Just as I decided to move to a more strategic position, a horse-drawn wagon appeared at the top of the hill. It came at me slowly and I could see Neil Diamond standing on the driver’s seat, holding the reins as the boom-box beside him cranked out one of the 20th century pop singer’s hits. Something about lost love, I think. Neil was singing along but when he saw me standing in the middle of the road, he switched to lip-synching. His timing was good. It really looked like he was singing.

  Neil Diamond was his real name, just not his original name and nobody knew his original name. Neil was a little eccentric and, as you can imagine, totally devoted to the slightly famous, original twentieth century pop singer.

  I moved to the side as Neil finished his song just in time to halt the horses. “Hello Belinda,” he said.

  “It’s Amanda.”

  “I know, but humor me, okay?”

  I smiled. I couldn’t help it.

  “Looks like you’re on the hunt.”

  “Thought I saw something,” I said, then died a little from embarrassment at how stupid it sounded.

  Neil looked from his perch. “Where?”

  “Up there,” I pointed. “You passed the spot.”

  “Oh, thanks for warning me.”

  Neil, you couldn’t hear for the music!”

  “Belinda, I gotta sing. It’s all about the music, you know.”

  “Well, I guessed that,” I commented.

  “Whatever it was,” he said, “it’s probably gone now.”

  In my head I could hear Grandpaw telling me the sad story of a man who was killed because he thought his rifle was probably unloaded.

  I looked at the rocky rise and knew there was ample room to hide behind it. Was I suddenly paranoid? A lizard behind every rock? “Yeah,” I said to Neil, “probably so.”

  Neil leaned my direction. I smelled liquor. “Wanna go with me?” he says.

  “What? Where?”

  “I’m going to Calgary.”

  “That’s four days for your rig.”

  “Yes, sure,” he said, gaining steam, “you can just tie your pony to the wagon and off we’ll go. It’ll be fun.” Neil smiled and his capped teeth were splendid, even dazzling for a fifty year old man.

  Neil was crazy, but he had spunk. He was also a survivor. Somehow, he managed to keep himself alive in his wacky world.

  “I can’t go this time,” I told him and the old man drooped in disappointment. His congenial cheeks fell and the broad smile disappeared into a hideous attempt at a pathetic pout. He sat back and looked down from his perch on the wagon seat.

  “We’ve been here before, Belinda.”

  “You know what to do,” I reminded him.

  “Indeed.” Neil poked at a touch button on the boom box and a sad, slow tune started up. Neil lip-synched the words:

  “Love on the rocks

  Ain't no surprise

  Pour me a drink

  And I'll tell you some lies

  Got nothin' to lose

  So you just sing the blues all the time

  [1]”

  Halfway through the verse, Neil giddy-upped his team and the wagon began rolling forward. Still pouting, he waved at me. By the time he started the second verse, he was far enough away I couldn’t make out the words anymore.

  I checked my weapon – it was on, locked and loaded, as they say – and began walking towards the mound. The closer I got, the better the view and I adjusted the angle of my approach so there wouldn’t be any surprises waiting around the corner. There was a depression that ran at a diagonal caused by rains and spring run-off that could conceal an animal’s exit.

  Nothing was behind the mound, nor were there any tracks. I looked along the line of the depression and surmised it would be a strenuous crawl in either direction. Still, there was no evidence anything had been there at all. I could have sworn I saw a fleeting shadow at the spot where I stood.

  I looked back to the road. Neil Diamond was long gone but I couldn’t get the old man’s song out of my head so I hummed it softly to myself as I walked back to the gate.

  When I had it down, I started to sing, making up the words as I went along.

  “Lizard behind the rocks, ain’t no big thing, did a belly crawl, to get oughta my aim, if he comes round, he’ll wish he’d gone unnderrrgrooouund!”

  I finished with a flourish. “Thank you,” I said to my imaginary audience.

  People started clapping behind me and I jumped.

  Chapter 13

  Lost in my own world, Phineas and Uncle Pat had walked up. I could see Papaw, walking slower, limping, but catching up. Phineas and Pat started to laugh and Papaw asked what was so funny.

  “Hang on,” said Pat, “I’ll ask Amanda to sing you a report.”

  That one really cracked up Phineas and he fell to the ground laughing.

  I’m sure I was flushed. The truth is, I could have died from embarrassment. Papaw gets the general picture about things real quick and commented that singing was sometimes a good way to keep yourself company. “Not a damn thing wrong with it,” he said gruffly before hugging me hello.

  “You on the hunt here?”

  “I think I was.”

  “This is too close to the house. We’ll have to lock down.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Maybe I didn’t see it.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Uncle Pat.

  I shrugged. “I thought I saw something.”

  “Well, did you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Papaw turned to Phineas, who was still on the ground, grinning and shaking his head. “You,” he said. The grin dropped from Phineas’ face. Papaw pointed down the incline to the gate where I’d left my horse and where now additionally sat the striders. “Raise Liza on the radio. Tell her we’re at the end of the driveway and that she needs to get everybody inside. We’ll be along shortly.”

  Phineas jumped to his feet and ran to the strider.

  “Why are you back so early?”

  Papaw looked up the incline where the depression ran uphill. “We went straight into it, did the job, got paid, and wanted to get home, that’s all. All the trips don’t always go long. Every once in a while, they go short. Usually when it goes short, something bad has happened. Not so
this time.”

  “So why are you limping?”

  “His hip is bothering him again,” said Pat.

  “You need to take it easy for a while,” I told him. “Take a trip to the hot baths.”

  “We don’t have time to take the time. Another job’s come up.

  “Already?” I asked. “Where?”

  Papaw motioned to Uncle Pat and said, “Let’s get up to the house. We’ll talk there.”

  Of course. We were standing around talking while there might be a kitzloc loose in the area. When we got to the house and saw to it that everyone was safe, then Papaw would be free to berate me in front of everybody for not knowing what I’d seen. On my birthday.

  When they climbed inside the striders and started up the driveway, I held back and slowly followed them home.

  When I got there, the striders were put away and the men were in the house. Papaw saw me arrive and stood in the open door as I walked the mare to the stable and unsaddled her.

  When I was done, I returned to the house and found the men gathered around the dining table, eating. Liza put out another plate for me but I told her I wasn’t hungry.

  Papaw said, “Sit down anyway,” and with his boot pushed out a chair for me.

  I sat and looked at my hands while Phineas, between bites, started telling Aunt Liza about what a fine singing voice I had.

  I put my hands flat on the table and spoke over Phineas, asking Papaw about his next job.

  Papaw stroked his stubbled chin. “We need to leave in the morning.”

  “In the morning!” echoed Aunt Liza in alarm. “You just got back!” She looked at Uncle Pat but Pat just grimaced in silence.

  “I know, I know,” said Papaw, “but it can’t be helped. There’s a community in Great Botswana called Mandalatown that’s been over-run practically overnight.”

  “My gosh, that’s across the continent! You’d have to take the shuttle to get there.”

  Papaw nodded. “As usual, Liza, you are correct. Furthermore, we are booked for a Wednesday morning shoot, so we have to arrive and check-in the day before. Do the math. We have to leave in the morning.”

  Liza shook her head and looked at Papaw. “Why do you put yourselves in such a bind?”

  “These people need our help,” said Pat. “Besides, they’re paying in gold.”

  Aunt Liza’s eyebrows elevated. “Gold?”

  “Yep.”

  “Beyond the whys and wherefores, we’re going because we agreed to go and this is what we do for a living. This is what I plan to do until I can’t do anything else. Ya’ll know that. We’ve turned my personal revenge into a business and I don’t mind one bit as long as I get to kill every last one of those damnedable creatures. I’ve said it before and I hope I live long enough to say it again.”

  Liza cast down her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I miss my husband.”

  Pat looked at Aunt Liza. “We’ll take a break after this job. I promise. Gary’s hip is bothering him and…”

  “What about leaving us here with a lizard roaming about? How do you equivocate that?”

  Uncle Pat sighed and looked at Grandpaw. “She’s got a point there, Gary. I don’t feel right about leaving if there’s a lizard about.” Uncle Pat shot me a sidelong glance.

  “I saw something,” I said, “and my instincts tell me it was kitzloc.”

  “That’s good enough for me,” said Papaw.

  Phineas maintained his silence. What he wanted was to go on the trip. He wanted to be shot across the continent so he could say he had done it. If Pat was bailing in order to guard the homestead, that left an opening and Phineas wanted to fill it.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Papaw said. “We’re going to need the right people in the right place. Phineas, I need you to remain here and guard the homestead. Amanda will make this hunt. I’ll leave it to Pat whether he goes or stays. I’ll understand his decision, either way.”

  “Aw, naw,” complained Phineas. “You need me on this trip. I can…”

  “Phinny!” Uncle Pat raised his tone and Liza admonished him for using his outdoor voice.

  Pat looked at Grandpaw and told him that if he didn’t go, then that would leave Grandpaw with only me and Kaliis. At that point, Kaliis, who had been sitting quietly, as usual, raised a bony finger and cleared his throat for attention.

  Pat looked at the alien. “What?”

  “The three of us,” he started, indicating me, Papaw, and himself, “are quite capable of completing the task at hand.”

  “Well, of course, you’re going along with Mr. Jennings,” said Phineas.

  “Phineas,” said Papaw. “You are to remain here. That much we know. The only other question is what Pat decides to do.”

  For a moment, everyone sat in silence. Finally, Pat turned to me. “There’s men already there. The way I see this trip, it’s an urban bug shoot and Gary’s going to give advice mostly. You can handle it. Every hunt is different, but as long as you keep your head, you’ll be all right.” He looked at Grandpaw and said he was going to stay home with his wife and he and Phineas would hunt down the lizard I had seen and that was now posing a threat.

  “So be it, then,” said Grandpaw. I have to hand it to the old man. Not once did Grandpaw flinch or give any indication he might have reservations about taking me on such an important hunt. It was, after all, an expedition to relieve an infestation that had the potential of wiping out an entire community. I was sixteen years old and I was ready for a fight.

  At that point, Aunt Liza made us all bow our heads and she recited a prayer of thanks and asked for a safe trip. “Amen,” she said at the end. Papaw resisted his usual anti-religious slur and resumed eating. He reached out with his left hand and patted me on the knee like he’s done all my life in a gesture meant to encourage me.

  That’s when it dawned on me that we were to leave in the morning and there were preparations to make.

  A knock came from the front door and we all looked up. Toby ran down the stairs shouting that Danny Doggett was here to woo Mandy. How embarrassing.

  Fortunately, and because Danny was a genuine nice guy, he understood about the upcoming hunt and even volunteered to help with any prep-work.

  “You know how to strip down, service, and reassemble a military grade Vimbacher?” Uncle Pat asked.

  “No sir,” Danny replied.

  “Would you like to learn?”

  Danny smiled. “Yes, I would. Very much.”

  “All right,” said Pat and he commenced to showing Danny how to handle the weapon.

  By then, we had re-located to the barn and I decided to return to the house to ask Grandpaw if there was anything special to pack. Grandpaw was soaking in a hot tub Liza had prepared for him so I spoke with him through the door.

  “Liza says you’re bruised from head to toe and your hip is inflamed.”

  There was the sound of water splashing and Grandpaw’s voice floated through the door. “I can live with the bruises and I’ll have a cortisone cocktail for my hip. Don’t worry about me.”

  “If you say so. Any packing requests?”

  “The gear is inside the striders. There’s not as much to do as you might think.” The sound of splashing water came again. It sounded like Papaw immersed himself and came back up again.

  “Amanda?” he said.

  “Still here.”

  “Yes. Let’s take some of your birthday cake with us.”

  “What birthday cake?” I said to the door.

  Behind me came the sound of laughter and I turned to see Danny, Liza and Pat, Phineas and the boys all huddled at the head of the stairs.

  Liza held a birthday cake with sixteen candles, flames dancing. “Happy Birthday!” everyone shouted and I could hear Papaw laughing.

  We had a party and ate cake and for a while we forgot about the dreaded creatures that still wandered over the face of Dreidel. Before the afternoon was out, Uncle Pat invited Danny to go along on the local
hunt for “Mandy’s lizard” as he called it. Danny agreed with enthusiasm, but I felt uneasy about it and I told them so.

  “I can take care of myself,” said Danny, “besides, Pat and Phineas will be there to carry me.”

  Phineas chimed in. “I’m not carrying anybody. Danny is a good shot. He can protect himself.”

  Phineas allowed Danny to sleep in the barn so he wouldn’t have to return to Summit only to get up early and ride back out to the Folly. When everyone was turning in for the night, I went out to check on Danny. Phineas was already asleep in his room and Danny was in a nest he’d made among the hay. It looked cozy and inviting. I pretended to tuck Danny in like a child and I went to kiss him on the forehead, but stopped the last instant in a tease. I whispered good-night and scampered from the barn.

  *

  Piloting a strider was fun, but I hadn’t had a lot of practice so I struggled to keep up with Papaw. Kaliis rode with him and the machines were loaded with gear. Control response was sluggish because of it but Papaw said we couldn’t slow down because we were on a schedule.

  We kept the radio circuits open and were mic’d so we could hear whatever anybody had to say. Still, after the miles and the hours rolled by, we ran out of things to talk about. Or, maybe I just get tired of talking. It becomes a strain on the brain. On the other hand, it would be easy to fall asleep driving a strider because once you get the hang of it, it’s like it’s driving itself, which it’s not. For instance, a strider takes a long ways to stop. A driver has to judge when to start braking and how much to brake, because a fully laden strider can pick up a lot of momentum. The machine operates on anti-grav plates that pushes and compresses air in a circular motion, so when a strider is activated, it floats above the ground. You can put your hand in the field areas and not feel a thing because it’s all gravitons. If something metallic entered the field, well, that might cause a problem.

  The grav plates are located in the foot pads at the bottom of each scissored leg. The motion of the legs somehow works to create the field through the friction of opposing charged particles. That “friction” is captured and re-directed to the grav pads where the energy is conditioned and amplified into… gravitons! There’s more to it, but that’s about as deep as I’ve been able to understand it.

 

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