Shatto's Way

by Roy F. Chandler

  Toby felt his heart leap and a flood of sweat drenched him. "Ok, they're moving the car up front and the Governor is gettin' in.

  "Hell, he's got some kind of plastic or glass around him, Toby. Probably bulletproof. Here they come, all bunched up nice to see the action.

  "God, Toby, you must've read their minds!"

  Toby looked up at Chop's position and the big man moved into view, his grin as clear as his hard-fisted wave.

  Toby stood up and began judging distances. He wanted that car right on top of the dynamite. What had sounded easy now appeared ridiculous. He'd have to do it exactly right or they'd stop too short or roll too far. If it looked far, he'd just have to dive for his hole and Chop would have to time it.

  He felt like a freak in the heavy vests and he probably looked like one. He missed the familiar weight of the 180 rifle on his shoulder, but appearing unarmed might encourage old Kellog to stop. Johnnie Freet had the gun. It added a lot of firepower and they might need it. Tucked into the back of his own pants was a .45 pistol. At least he wouldn't be helpless lying in his pothole.

  The column rounded into view just as he had pictured it a thousand times. It surged ahead, spilling all over the road and overgrown berms with the strange armored car a little in front. For an instant he suffered an attack of déjà vu as it all fit so perfectly with his imaginings.

  He stepped forward where Kellog would surely see him and planted himself, feet apart, with fists defiantly on his hips. He hoped the bait appealed to the Governor because he damned well felt like a worm dangling on a hook.

  The armored car was a grotesque thing, probably made from an old military truck. Heavy plating hung all over it and Toby was pleased to see that the steel protecting the tires went almost to the ground. That limited clearance would keep the car on the smooth pavement and run it right over their buried charge.

  Not so pleasing were a pair of machine gun barrels that seemed to converge on his breastbone. The gunners were lost behind protecting armor with thin aiming slits. Toby hoped awfully hard that they were disciplined and patient gunners.

  Governor Kellog was protected by sheets of some clear substance. It was said he had built the protection from an old bulletproof speaker's stand he had salvaged from the capitol basements.

  Toby could see him clearly examining his challenger and the roadblock through large binoculars. He spoke down to someone and Toby almost threw up in expectation of ripping machine gun fire, but the car came on and he managed another breath or two.

  Up close, the armored vehicle appeared monstrous. In his high perch, Kellog dominated all around him and as he stepped forward, hand raised in the universal halt signal, Toby felt as David must have before Goliath.

  The car jerked to a rocking halt and Toby cursed himself. The vehicle was barely up to the planted charge.

  He could hear the diesel's rumble as the driver toyed with the accelerator to keep it running.

  Kellog's voice, metallic and menacing, crackled from an over-loud public address speaker mounted on the vehicle's body. Instinctively Toby took a step backward—and the car rolled a step forward maintaining the distance between them. "Well, well," he said to himself and took another step, trying to look a bit fearful, and split his concentration between maneuvering the armored car and the Governor's words.

  "Mr. Shatto, I presume?" His ancient cliché amused Kellog, and he laughed uproariously at his own joke.

  Toby spoke severely but with doubt clearly in his voice so Kellog would be sure to detect his uncertainty.

  "Now Governor, this is our area and you don't belong here. You just turn your men around and there won't be any hard feelings. You go your way and we'll go ours."

  Kellog's laughter was grimly amused, "Mr. Shatto, you disappoint me." His car again jerked forward and he spoke angrily down at his driver but Toby didn't care.

  They had moved enough and Governor Kellog was right where he wanted him.

  The Governor continued, "Do you seriously expect to stop our advance? With this puny effort?" His sweeping arm took in the barricade and Long's small but determined looking group.

  Someone called, "Let's take 'em. Governor!" and an approving clamor arose.

  Enjoying himself too well, Kellog waved them quiet and turned again to Toby. "You hear my men, Shatto. We can at will sweep this defense of yours into the river but why should good men die hopelessly and for nothing?

  "Ask your men, Shatto. Ask them if they do not wish to step aside and join us instead of lying dead amid this pile of junk you have assembled."

  It had been long enough. Men jammed tightly, pushing and shoving to hear and see. Toby felt his heart again pound mightily and he gathered himself for the quick dive into his hole. The Governor's triumphant leer burned into his brain as he braced his foot and began his leap.

  +++

  Chapter 30

  For months Praying Mantis had waited for this moment. At times he had feared it would never come and despair had plummeted him into despondency so deep that he barely sought food. He spent days curled tightly in a corner of the building he favored.

  At other times hope flared, and he could not find enough individuals to whom he could expound the benefits of crushing the rich village of Shatto's Way.

  Although barely tolerated in the Governor's camp, he hung on, and through constant repetition his claims did reach those who were influential. When the Governor announced the move against Shatto's Way he hugged his emaciated body and giggled with certainty that he had been responsible for the decision.

  As a loner, no one cared whether Praying Mantis came along or not. No one encouraged him or sought his special knowledge. He attempted to ingratiate himself among the powerful, servilely describing his former residency and familiarity with Shatto and the others. Kellog's Lieutenants ignored his overtures. Military strength was their only requirement. They intended to march where they wished and take what they wanted when they got there.

  They had the men and the guns. Nothing else really mattered.

  He had nearly died getting to Harrisburg. Two of the bullet wounds had festered and one still opened and drained regularly. Hatred of Toby Shatto probably kept him alive as his thousand and one dreams of sweet revenge saw him through surges of black desperation.

  Weaponless, clad in ruined clothing with an old blanket worn poncho-like over everything, Mantis trailed behind the army as it straggled from Harrisburg and up the river. There were dozens like him who voluntarily attached themselves in the hope of sharing anything overlooked by the more organized band that marched ahead.

  Unlike the the others, Mantis had a plan. He would obtain a weapon and with it he would kill Toby Shatto and as many others as he could find. After the Governor marched on, he would remain and gather the survivors around as he once had his small flock of followers. He would govern them wisely, and in his dreams, he imagined that Kellog in his haste might even overlook the cave and its treasures.

  First was a gun and he knew the one he wanted. It was owned by a large man whose name he had never caught.

  The weapon was a hunting rifle with a fine telescopic sight attached. Its owner wore a looped belt through which were thrust dozens of shiny brass cartridges. The rifle caused Mantis to drool with desire but he had to wait. The man would be missed, and the rifle could be identified. As he would not need it until close to Pfoutz Valley, Mantis suppressed his hunger to caress the piece and have it to wrap around as he slept. He knew how to get the gun, and he could wait with some confidence.

  The New Buffalo camp was the right time. Shatto's Way was only hours ahead, and if he was questioned after the fighting he would claim to have gotten the gun from the owner's dead body. That thought brought a gleeful snicker.

  Each morning the gun owner sought a private place to relieve himself. Once squatting, he spent a long time at his task and, of course, he laid his rifle beside him. Mantis knew the kind of place the man preferred and waited close by until he started for it. The cover was go
od, and when the man finally squatted facing the way he had come, Mantis had only a few steps to complete.

  He crossed in a swift rush with a large stone in each hand. The man heard him and turned a startled face toward him. He raised an arm to ward off the hurtling figure, but a skinny arm went through and a stone thunked solidly along the man's head. He lost his balance and tipped forward dazed, instinctively catching himself with his hands. A swinging blow from the other stone sledged him solidly above the eye and he collapsed with a tired grunt. Possessed, Mantis crouched over the body and smashed with both hands until the man's skull was a pulpy ruin. Exhausted, he sat on the body, chest heaving and arms trembling, listening to be sure no one had heard.

  As soon as he could, he dragged the body deeper into the brush and secured both ammunition belt and rifle. He returned to the camp and crossed quietly to the far side where he could watch the man's blankets and know If anyone become concerned.

  No one noticed the rifle he held beneath his poncho. As stragglers hurried to catch up to the moving army, the dead man's abandoned blankets were ignored and Mantis joined the last of the column, leaving thoughts of the man he had killed behind.

  The Shatto's Way inspection sign had been torn down and tossed contemptuously aside before Mantis arrived. Tuned to the ways of his enemy, Mantis could find no sense in any activity this far from the village. Suspicions ballooned within him and wild speculations thrashed through his mind.

  Ahead, he could see the army spreading across the road and it appeared that some sort of obstruction was halting them. To see better, he scrambled up a sloping bank that led to the higher cliffs and gained a clear view of what was happening.

  He unslung his rifle and rested it on a rock. Through the scope he could see someone with a raised hand stopping the column. When the man lowered his arm, Mantis knew who he was. His vision blurred and sight wobbled. There stood Toby Shatto, as perfect a target as he would ever be. Mantis knew his fondest imaginings had been answered and that only success now lay before him.

  He fought himself to composure and regained the sight picture. Shatto had grown fat on his good living, that was plain enough, and Mantis intended putting a bullet into that fat body where it would do the most harm. He held for the middle of Shatto's chest in case the rifle shot a little untrue and squeezed the trigger. Nothing happened and Mantis jerked the rifle from his shoulder frantic to understand.

  The safety! Of course! Cursing himself, he flicked it off with suddenly shaking hands and again took careful aim. Shatto still stood there as though patiently waiting his bullet and Mantis hurried to oblige him. The crosshairs settled solidly on Shatto's broad chest and Mantis stroked the trigger almost lovingly.

  The jolting blast of powerful recoil threw him off balance, and he fought the gun back onto target. Shatto was down—slumped forward and sagging lower! He heard himself giggling and had trouble keeping his target in the wobbling scope. His mind suggested that he shoot again, but the sight of Toby Shatto groveling on hands and knees was too overpowering. Shatto was dead. Mantis knew it and his foolish giggling grew in volume.

  Then Shatto somehow lunged from sight. One instant he was there, and the next he was gone. Mantis' laughter froze in his throat, and just as suddenly the Governor's armored car rose on a column of fire and was hurled aside in a dozen pieces as a tremendous explosion blew it and everyone close by into unidentifiable bits and shreds.

  Mantis cringed behind the protecting rock, but he was safely distant. About the Governor and his army he cared nothing, but if Toby Shatto had somehow survived his shot, there could be no question that he had gone in the tremendous explosion.

  Unmindful of the shouting and shooting ahead of him, Praying Mantis clutched his rifle to his curled body in ultimate satisfaction.

  +++

  Chop Clouser doubted that he'd breathed since Toby had stepped into the path of the armored car.

  He knelt behind his generator with the crank in hand. Commercial generators used plunger handles, but the military liked the less cumbersome crank. A single strong twist and he would blow Governor Kellog to hell and halfway back.

  He almost gagged when the car stopped too soon, and his whole body shook like a quaking aspen until Toby lured it a few steps further. Then he wanted to scream at Toby that it was enough. The whole damned army was jammed up there, and Toby couldn't do any more. His mind barely registered the Governor's PA system or Toby's few answers. He began to doubt his muscles' ability to react properly as they strained with nervous tension, and he had to struggle to resist looking down at the clip-on wire terminals to see if they were really right there.

  The bullet struck Toby high in the body with an audible "thwack," and the sound of the shot rolled over them in almost the same instant. Somehow Chop saw the Governor's face fall in astonishment even as Toby staggered and fell forward onto his knees.

  He held his shout of anguish in lungs bursting with strain as Toby's head fell forward and his toes scratched futilely at the pavement. Then, almost in slow motion, Toby rolled himself aside and flopped limp-bodied into his specially deepened pothole.

  Chop's mighty roar of unbridled rage matched his hands grinding the generator crank. For a long instant the world hung frozen before a gout of fire and thunder tossed the Governor's armored car and ripped it asunder. Earth, stones, and metal sprayed, and men were blasted aside and lay like broken dolls amid rolling smoke and falling chunks.

  Bill Long's men rose like a wall from their safe shelter and rained bullets into the stunned and milling army. Arcs of fire showed as burning brands were thrown into the crackling dry brush and flames rose immediately.

  The Harrisburg rabble broke and dived for cover. Some chose to flee back down the road, but an undetected force blasted them with a hail of gunfire and they leaped for the shelter of the trees and brush.

  The bullet sledged into Toby's chest with terrible impact. It drove the air from his lungs and sight from his eyes. He knew he staggered like a drunken man before his legs gave way, and he sank to his knees as though in prayer.

  He knew he had been shot and a corner of his mind wondered how it had happened. The rest of him struggled with the need to find his hole and get in it. If Chop blew the charge he would go with it, and if Chop didn't act, the armored car would crush him like a grape.

  With dimmed senses he fought for balance and managed to topple onto his side. Flailing with what little he had, he squirmed and rolled in the direction he thought the hole might be.

  Surely he had missed it, but he kept on and suddenly the ground gave way and he slipped forward into its depths. Instinctively he pulled himself into a ball and fought in at least a partial rasping breath.

  An instant later a wall of concussion drove even that small gift from his lungs and first lifted, then pinned him bug-like to the bottom of his hole. Dimly he realized that Chop had fired the charge, and he experienced an instant of satisfaction before blackness enveloped him, and he became unaware of chunks and pieces raining down around him.

  +++

  Smoke was so thick Chop could not see into Toby's hole, and even before the blast cleared the brush was burning furiously.

  He tore his attention away and made a deliberate and careful assessment of the wires around him. Satisfied that he did know which controlled which charge he studied the situation laid out before him.

  From above he had a good view all right. He could see Freet's men getting the brush on fire at that south end and he saw a raft man raise up to shoot at something in the brush.

  More than a few of Kellog's confused army had taken cover in rocks at the cliff base, but most had dived into the brush. Chop grinned with absolute relish and clipped wires to his generator. Then he cranked.

  Trees exploded, shredding limbs and branches, and nails hummed through the undergrowth like a million angry bees. Some hummed by his own position and Chop knew it must be hell down in the bushes.

  Men shouted and there was increased thrashing.

>   Shooting from the rafts picked up, and Chop heard men screaming to get out and move under the cliffs. He chose other wires and again trees exploded, and the bees swarmed.

  Men began dashing across the road to apparent safety, and Chop urged them on. He had only one more circuit to fire into the woods, and he feared to let it go too soon.

  But other men ran, and Chop decided to apply the final lash. He clipped on new wires and cranked—and nothing happened. Cursing, he cranked again, fearful that earlier blasts had cut the circuit.

  This time he made contact and for a third time the brush and trees were raked by flying splinters and nails.

  Fires too were raging higher with Freet's flame highest and an upriver breeze sweeping them on.

  A sudden rush of men to the shelter of the boulders left an unexpected silence across the ravaged scene.

  Firing died away as each side seemed to await the actions of the other. There were a lot of men huddled beneath the cliffs with their weapons pointing aggressively outward. Toby's plan had worked better than they could have hoped.

  Chop could see into Toby's hole now and could detect no movements from the huddled figure mostly obscured beneath dirt and broken pieces.

  He saw Johnnie Freet stand up at the far end and look upward expectantly. As calm as he had ever been, Chop picked up the wires for the cliff charges and clipped them to the generator.

  From behind the rocks a white flag appeared and waved from a gun barrel. Chop's big teeth gritted in a mirthless grin and his hands again twisted the generator crank.

  +++

  The upper quarter of two hundred yards of cliff lifted outward as though propelled by a god-like hand.

  A muted report like rolling thunder rumbled with a power awesomely deep before the vast tonnage of rock began to fall.

  Probably a few of those cowering below saw it coming but none could escape. A sibilant rush of sliding rock erupted into an earsplitting roar as countless tons of loosened shale poured down upon the trapped men.