Standing at the Edge

by William Alan Webb

  She turned to face him and again he felt amazed at how little she had aged over the decades.

  “The kindness of your people is beyond measure,” she said. “If anyone is honored, it is me.”

  “Is there anything we should know?” he asked, anxious to get back down.

  “The tides of life are strange, especially if we are the moons.”

  “I do not understand, Ohoyo. Your words make no sense to me.”

  “We each affect the lives around us, Govind, like moons pulling at the oceans. Last year I felt the presence of one who is dead. I believed then my time had come to cross from this life to the next, but it was not so. I saw her dying, and did not understand, but gave her my strength. Then I lost sight of her. It has taken me all winter to regain my strength and my sight. I did not think then her death was in this world, but the next one. But now…”

  “Yes?” Govind said, not following any of this. His mind went back to the day he rode out to warn the Marines of an oncoming army of Sevens, and the woman who so closely resembled the Ohoyo. He had not spoken of it because he thought it a vision of the Ohoyo, an omen from the Almighty. After all, how could her sister still be young after so many years?

  “Yesterday I felt her again. She is close, and so real, as if she is not truly dead in this world. How this could be, I do not know. And she is not alone. The world is changing. I feel it in the air, and hear it from the beasts. War is upon us.”

  “War came last year.”

  “That was far to the south. This war will engulf your people.”

  “Let those who come in war beware,” he said. “Do you know when this will happen?”

  “Not the day or phase of the moon,” she said. “But soon. Riders are abroad and their color is that of blood.”

  “Ohoyo, I… there is something I need to tell you. Perhaps I should have done it sooner, but I was conflicted.”

  “What is it, my friend?”

  He found her smile comforting, as always. Then her expression changed. Turning away from him, she spread her arms as though parting unseen curtains hanging before her. When she turned back, panic widened her eyes.

  “Ride now! Gopan needs you! Ride north to the Rock of the Wolf. Ride fast!”

  #

  SECTION ONE

  Warnings

  Chapter 1

  When you let go of what you were, you become what you might be.

  Lao Tzu

  Forward Operating Base Junkyard

  0623 hours, April 10

  Lara Snowtiger found the rider in her rifle scope. “Got him… he’s Apache, riding hard.”

  “Why is an Apache riding toward us?” Captain Anthony said.

  As she focused, the rider toppled from his saddle. Half a second later, a rifle report echoed across the valley.

  “Rider’s down, Cap. We’ve got a sniper in those rocks across the valley. Permission to return fire?”

  A second shot kicked up dust next to the fallen rider.

  “Negative! We don’t know who’s who.”

  “Apaches are friendlies, sir!”

  A third shot hit the prone figure as the horse raced away.

  “Negative! Don’t shoot.”

  But Snowtiger had already shifted targets. The sniper hid in the shadow of a boulder a mile across the desert. Most of the rifle protruded forward into sunlight, which glinted off the glass of the shooter’s scope. She zeroed in as a fourth shot rang out.

  “Captain!”

  “Can you ID the sniper, Sergeant? Unless you can positively identify—”

  She took the shot without waiting for the rest of his answer.

  #

  Scope had hit the target twice out of four shots, but she wanted to guarantee her kill. His head lay on a rock, almost as if he’d propped himself there for her benefit. The crosshairs centered on his forehead. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath.

  Something zinged off the stone near her elbow and ricocheted into her mouth, missing her teeth and cutting a neat hole in her right cheek. Blood filled her throat as she swung the rifle to find this new threat, but a second bullet smashed into the barrel mere inches from her face. Before she could duck out of the line of fire, a third sent rock splinters into her right eye.

  The rifle clattered down the rear face of the boulder as Scope gagged on blood and felt it running down her neck. Her right eye burned and she closed it, losing depth perception as she followed the rifle down the rocks. Sliding and scraping fifty feet to the desert floor, she tore a gash in her right hand before smashing to a hard stop.

  Who the fuck shot her?

  How had she missed another sniper in the valley? She wasn’t usually that sloppy, but in her haste to nail the rider, she’d gotten careless. With mission accomplished, it was time to gitfoh and do some first aid.

  Below and forty feet to her left, the hot engine of her Joint Light Tactical Vehicle still ticked as it cooled. The air conditioning would be a relief from the warm spring sunshine.

  “Do not move.”

  Her head snapped around. How could someone have snuck up on her? She was the best of the best at tracking and avoiding detection. Yet the barrel of a rifle protruded from a crack between three boulders, and in the shadows she saw a dark face behind the sights. Her brain instantly calculated the mathematics behind drawing her sidearm and snapping off a shot before she felt the impact of a bullet. The odds were bad, but she doubted her chances if taken prisoner were any better.

  “What do you want?” With the slightest movement, she inched her hand closer to the holstered Sig Sauer P320 at her side.

  “Stop moving. I want answers, but I will kill you if I must.”

  The wounded right eye kept flickering as blood trickled down her cheek. “It appears I don’t have a choice.”

  “Withdraw the pistol using two fingers of your left hand, then throw it to the ground.”

  She reached across her body in slow motion, twisting until her right hand was out of his sight. In a blur of motion, she drew the pistol and aimed at the small, triangular space between the rocks. Taking the man behind the rifle by surprise with her speed, she fired first. His shot followed a quarter-second later.

  Scope was a dead shot. She never missed, except that time.

  Blood made her pistol grip slippery and the bullet went high, splintering on the boulder above the tiny opening. But she never knew that.

  The rifleman’s first shot struck her in the sternum. It ripped through her spine and hit the rock behind her, ricocheting back into the right lung. The following second, third, and fourth shots smacked into her forehead and blew out the back of her skull. She toppled forward and fell to the dust below.

  As her brain died, her last thought was a sardonic joke. She’d lived fast and died young, but left a messy looking corpse.

  #

  Chapter 2

  Raise your cup, my friends,

  For the life that never ends;

  He lived his life as a warrior born;

  Death sought him out on a clear blue morn.

  Death song for Gopan Windrunner

  Forward Operating Base Junkyard

  0631 hours, April 10

  Snowtiger hadn’t waited before sprinting for a Humvee. Captain Anthony and one private scrambled in before she gunned it down the ramp leading to the valley floor. Dust and gravel flew as she turned at the bottom of the ramp without slowing down. Seconds later she jumped out as the Humvee still rolled and ran to the fallen rider, cradling his head. Taking out her canteen, she splashed water on his forehead. His labored breathing and wet cough told her he only had seconds left.

  “Łichíí itsá,” he whispered. Blood trickled from the corner of his lip. He grabbed Snowtiger’s sleeve and repeated the phrase. “Łichíí itsá!”

  His body went limp and his head tilted back, eyes still open. He still gripped her shirt. Snowtiger bowed her head and closed his eyes.

  “Nusi himmita nakni,” she said in a whisper. Sleep, young warrio
r.

  “Speak English, Sergeant,” Captain Anthony said from behind her. “What did he say?”

  “I don’t know, Captain. I don’t speak Apache.”

  “Didn’t you say something back to him?”

  “That was Choctaw, sir. I said goodbye.”

  “You disobeyed my direct order, Sergeant. I know they call you Stud, and you’re on a first name basis with MOH—” meaning the Medal of Honor “—but that doesn’t give you the right to ignore the lawful order of a superior officer. What if that sniper you shot was a friendly?”

  “I didn’t shoot him, Captain. I didn’t have time. I just drove him off.”

  Captain Anthony’s face reddened even more. He pointed his finger at Snowtiger. “That man on the ground could have been an enemy and that sniper could have been a friend. I told you not to engage and you did anyway.”

  “ROE says take all measures to protect members of the brigade and her allies, sir. That’s what I did.”

  “It wasn’t your decision to make.”

  “He’s Apache. They’re on our side.”

  “I must’ve missed that memo.”

  Snowtiger rose from beside the body. Under the dust pasted to her wet face, her expression remained grim. “I was there when the Apache chief warned us the Sevens were coming, Captain. Had he not done so, we would have been overrun and the brigade destroyed. This man was with him. That’s what I based my decision on.”

  “I know all about your Medal of Honor and how you won it, Sergeant, but this is my command. I haven’t met this chief and I don’t know any of that.”

  Snowtiger nodded to the opposite side of the valley. Halfway to their position, a dust cloud followed another Apache, riding hard. “I think you’re about to, sir.”

  #

  Govind dismounted the horse before it fully stopped.

  “Stei!” he said without looking back. The horse stayed. Three strides brought him to where his brother lay. He and Snowtiger locked eyes for a moment and he saw tears welling. With the slightest nod he thanked her.

  Kneeling beside Gopan, he felt for a pulse. Finding none, he laid a hand on Gopan’s forehead and closed his eyes. “Nii nahii’maa at’e, ya nahiika’ee at’e.”

  Snowtiger cocked her head but didn’t speak.

  “It means, ‘The Earth is our mother, the sky our father.’ My brother liked it.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  “Hey,” Captain Anthony said. The man with him pointed his rifle in Govind’s general direction. “I need answers. Who are you and what are you doing here? You’re in territory controlled by the United States Army.”

  “Gwii naasya’ye doo miikaa nach’igha da. Gojadii niigai daach’inii.”

  “Am I supposed to know what that means?” Captain Anthony said.

  “Something about a snake?” Snowtiger said, cocking her head.

  “Don’t walk in a snake’s track, or your leg may start hurting.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  Govind rose and faced the captain. The only signs of his pain were the downturned corners of his mouth and his watery eyes. “This land belongs to no one, not to me and not to you. But I am no threat, Captain. This man is my youngest brother, Gopan. He rode to you with news. I was told he would be in danger and rode with the eagles to stop him, but I was too late.”

  “What kind of news?”

  “I do not know, but it must have been urgent. He knew he was being followed and exposing himself as a target would be a great risk, but he did it anyway. He died bringing you this message.”

  “Who told you he was in danger?”

  “A friend.” He momentarily glanced at Snowtiger.

  “How did they know?”

  “I cannot say, Captain, for I do not understand it myself. All I can tell you is my friend has never been wrong.”

  The captain said nothing for a moment as he appraised the tall, lean Apache standing before him. They locked eyes and neither man looked away. Captain Anthony saw nothing deceptive in the newcomer.

  “If your brother was trying to help us, then I’m sorry for his loss. I would like to have shaken his hand.”

  “Thank you, Captain. I will take him back to my people now.”

  Snowtiger stood, hiding her bloody hands behind her back. “He said something before he died. It was in Apache.”

  “Can you remember how it sounded?”

  She nodded. A strand of black hair slipped from under her helmet and lay near the long scar on her right cheek. Govind blinked when he saw it, and felt his heartbeat quicken.

  “Lee-chee-ee… eet-sah. Or something close to that.”

  “Łichíí itsá?”

  “Yes, that’s it. What does it mean?”

  “It means Red Eagle.”

  “Like a bird?” the captain said.

  “Not in this, no. Red Eagle is a place, a particular mountain. My brother wants me to go there.”

  “Why? What’s so important about this mountain?”

  “I will take my brother now, Captain. I must return him to our people.”

  “I asked you a question, mister!”

  “I answer the questions I choose to answer… Captain. And I choose not to answer that one.”

  Captain Anthony turned to Snowtiger. “Sergeant, I’m relying on your personal word that this man is a friend. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “I do, Captain. I’ll personally vouch for him and take whatever consequences may come from it.”

  Lifting his brother as though he were a little child, Govind laid him across the base of his horse’s neck. He mounted the horse with so little effort, he seemed to float into the saddle.

  “I didn’t say you could leave,” Captain Anthony said, without much conviction.

  “I do not need your permission, Captain.” Govind gathered the reins of Gopan’s horse, wheeled his mount, and trotted off, but stopped again after thirty feet. “You will find the other sniper in those rocks across the valley, along with her vehicle.”

  “Her?” Snowtiger said.

  Anthony shook his head. “Who is she? Is she alive?”

  “She shot at me and gave me this.” Govind pointed to the dried blood on his right temple. “Then I shot her. She missed killing me and I did not miss killing her. I do not recognize her uniform.”

  “Uniform?” Anthony and Snowtiger said in unison.

  He wheeled and urged the horse forward with the slightest pressure from his heels. In reply, it leapt forward into a canter, the other horse trailing behind.

  #

  “Oh, shit,” Captain Anthony said as the large white star on the JLTV came into view. “It’s American.” He turned to Snowtiger, sitting beside him in the Humvee’s back seat. “Still think that Indian is a friend?”

  Snowtiger frowned at the potential insult and studied the captain’s eyes for a second. She decided he meant nothing derogatory and forgot about it. “Begging your pardon, Captain, but Govind saved our asses. His brother was bringing you a message and got himself killed in the process. Whoever the sniper was, she wasn’t our friend.”

  The Humvee slammed through a series of animal burrows, forcing them to hold on and stop talking for a minute.

  “You’d better hope you’re right, Stud.”

  She bit her lip and turned away. Stud was her nickname among her comrades. It was their way of showing that, even though she won the Medal of Honor, she was still one of them. But coming from Captain Anthony, it was sarcasm, not a sign of friendship.

  They pulled up next to the vehicle and stopped. Rifles ready, the soldier, Captain Anthony, and Snowtiger got out. The three men headed for the JLTV while she went looking for the sniper, clambering over the rocks within earshot of the men.

  “Anybody recognize what this is?” she heard Captain Anthony say.

  The private spoke up. “It’s a JLTV, Captain. Joint Light Tactical Vehicle. It replaced the Humvee in the late twenty-teens.”

  "That explains it," he said. "I w
ent cold in 1999."

  That caught her attention and she glanced their way. Anthony was the oldest freezer bum she’d heard of yet. Beyond where he stood, the JLTV, painted desert tan, had a weapons assembly on top with a metal skeleton surrounding a fifty-caliber machine gun. A shield protected it on the front. The front door she could see had a large white star.

  “I wonder why it has a star?” the soldier said. “They stopped marking vehicles that way a long time ago, didn’t they, Captain?”

  He shrugged. “Like I said, I went cold long before this thing came around. I have no idea what they did after that. But clearly, whoever owns this, they wanted it known they were Americans. The Republic of Arizona marked their vehicles this way, but where would they have gotten such a late-model machine?”

  Turning back to her task, Snowtiger spotted a smear of blood on a boulder above and to her left. Following its downward trail led her to a twisted body, lying caught in a crevice between the rocks. Flies buzzed around the corpse.

  After she called the men over, between them they had the dead woman stretched out on the desert floor in minutes. She wore non-regulation desert camouflage pants, tan long-sleeve shirt, and brown boots. What struck Snowtiger was the muscularity of her shoulders and the calluses on her hands, both very much like her own. She wore no dog tags and had no identification of any sort on her person.

  “Damn, what a body,” the soldier said. “I’ll bet she was hot.”

  Snowtiger met his eyes. “She’d have kicked your ass if you tried anything.”

  “Why do you say that, Stud?”

  “I just know.” She didn’t add that she would do the same thing; she didn’t have to.

  #

  Chapter 3

  Fate is charging like a runaway train;

  I can’t hear it coming but I’ll feel its pain.

  Sergio Velazquez, from Standing at the Edge

  Operation Overtime

  0702 hours, April 10

  Nick Angriff stood alone on his private platform outside the mountain. He stared at the faint image of the waxing moon, hanging low on the southern horizon, washed out by the morning sun. He cherished the rare times he could stand and breathe the chilled dawn air and think. Sometimes it was nice to be alone, without even Norm Fleming around, and to let his mind wander as it would.