Lesser Gods

by Adrian Howell

  He was right. It was slow going, and Mr. Barnum had to drive both the motorhome and the minibus one at a time through several rough spots on the road, but by 10pm that night, all eight vehicles made it to our staging point in the forest, which was a grassy clearing overgrown with tall weeds. There was a large tent pitched at the edge of the clearing, and next to it was parked the advance team’s second SUV. The four advance-team Knights who were waiting for us waved as our headlights illuminated their faces.

  Mr. Barnum pulled the motorhome to a stop, and he and I met Mr. Simms, Jack P, Jack F, Jodie Decker and Terry at the side door.

  “Kids,” said Mr. Simms, looking sidelong at Terry and me, “we are now officially in harm’s way.”

  With that, Mr. Simms opened the door and stepped out.

  “Swoop! Welcome, welcome,” one of the advance-team Knights said casually as we met them in the center of the clearing. “We were hoping you’d get here sooner. Are we going tonight?”

  “I don’t see why not,” replied Mr. Simms. “Figure thirty minutes to prep, two hours to target and another half hour or so to get into position. We should have the Holy Land well before sunup.”

  “Sounds good,” replied the Knight. Then he noticed Terry and me. “Who are these children?”

  “Rabbit and Hansel,” said Mr. Simms. “From the Gifford residence.”

  “Ah, yes, I’ve heard of them,” said the Knight, his tone suddenly turning decidedly unfriendly, “but I never thought Rabbit would get mission status after what she–”

  Mr. Simms talked over him in a stern voice, saying, “They’re both in our unit now, Stone, so get used to it.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Knight replied in a subdued tone.

  As Mr. Simms introduced Mr. Barnum to the advance-team Knights, I glanced over at Terry. She just stood there, silent and expressionless.

  In her desperate attempt to save her brother, Terry had passed information to the Angels that led to the deaths of fourteen Guardian Knights earlier this year, but I never asked Terry how she felt about having betrayed the Guardians. I already knew. Joining the Knights was her way of making amends, and since Mr. Baker had accepted this, I agreed with Mr. Simms that the Knight called Stone was out of line. I wondered if he had lost any close friends that night.

  Most of the other Ravens were standing next to their cars now and waiting for instructions. Mr. Simms turned to them and said, “Gentlemen, we’re going tonight. Gather around for a minute.”

  During the rest stops and nights over the last two days, Mr. Simms and Jack P had made sure the Ravens all knew the assault plan inside and out. I had done my homework too. Even without closing my eyes, I could visualize the Holy Land and the insides of every building that we had information on. On the slow road in, I had thought we would spend an extra day here and attack the next night, but I was relieved that we were going immediately. I hated waiting for a battle.

  Nevertheless, Mr. Simms wanted to go through the plan again, just to be safe.

  “Alright, one last time. Listen up!” he said, looking around at his unit. “There’ll be three Ravens. One and Two are assault, Three is the vehicle guard. Switch, you will handle communications for Raven Three, but don’t contact us except in an abort-worthy emergency.”

  “No trouble,” said Mr. Watson.

  “I will lead Raven One,” said Mr. Simms, and then he read off the call signs of his group. Each Knight nodded as his or her name was called. Jack F and Jodie Decker were going with Mr. Simms, and I was happy to see that Stone was also with Raven One. I didn’t want him on the same team as Terry and me.

  Mr. Simms turned to Jack P, saying, “Blade will lead Raven Two.”

  Jack P then read his list of names, which included Rabbit, but not Hansel. I wondered if he had forgotten. For the moment, I kept my mouth shut.

  Jack P finished calling out his team and, confirming that everyone was present, nodded to Mr. Simms.

  Mr. Simms said, “Once we’re near the target, Raven One will approach from the south, westward of the main gate. We have a hole under the perimeter fence there. Stone will lead us to it. Inside, we wait for Raven Two to get into position. Raven Two will circle around and enter from the north through the hole we’ve dug under the fence there. Zero will guide them. Blade will call Raven One when his men are ready, and I will give the command to go. Raven One will first neutralize the gate sentries, leaving sharpshooters on the watchtowers to pick off any strays. We will then head straight to the barracks and clear it out before the Slayers know what hit them. But absolutely nobody shoots till I shoot first.”

  We had all heard this before, but nevertheless everyone listened intently. Terry had often told me in the dojo that you can never get too much training because you can only die once. It seemed to fit this situation too.

  “Raven Two, radio tower,” Mr. Simms continued in a crisp tone. “Make it quick, then clockwise around the compound clearing each building. Raven One will start from the barracks in the same manner. Which Raven finishes first will depend on the amount of resistance we encounter. Once we go noisy, make sure to keep the channel open and report your progress. It’ll be dark and covered in CS and smoke, so check your targets carefully, especially when Ravens One and Two come together at the end.”

  Mr. Simms paused for a moment, looking around at us. Then he said slowly, “Now, if it goes to hell, either Blade or I will call an abort. If you hear an abort, call it out. Abort means immediate! Break away and back to Raven Three. They’ll be ready to haul us to safety. Any questions?”

  I waited politely for someone else to speak first, but no one did, so I raised my hand.

  “Hansel?” said Mr. Simms.

  “Am I with Blade?” I asked.

  “No,” replied Mr. Simms. “You are Raven Three. You stay with Switch.”

  “But...” I started, but I quickly checked myself. This clearly wasn’t the time for “buts.” I had promised to be a team player and follow orders to the word, so I’d at least wait till the meeting ended.

  “Okay,” said Mr. Simms once he was sure there were no other questions. “Fortune be with you all. Let’s get this done.”

  Once the Knights were sufficiently busy checking their weapons and gear, I quietly approached Mr. Simms.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Simms?” I said hesitantly.

  “Swoop,” he corrected me with a smile.

  I forced my tone to stay civil. “Swoop, sir, may I ask why I’m not with Raven Two?”

  “You may, Hansel, but you’d better ask Rabbit. She’s the one who asked me yesterday to transfer you to Raven Three.”

  “Rabbit...” I repeated quietly, almost in a daze. What was Terry thinking?

  “If it were up to me, Hansel, I’d be happy to have you in either assault team, but Rabbit insisted. Besides, I had to agree that I’d feel much safer about our setup if you were helping to guard our escape.”

  I could usually tell when someone was patronizing me. “Thank you, Swoop,” I said dryly.

  Returning to the motorhome, I found my combat instructor carefully adjusting the blade attachment on her left arm.

  “You?” I asked brusquely.

  “That’s right, Hansel,” Terry answered in an infuriatingly Cindy-like calm.

  “Why, Terry?!” I demanded, refusing to use her stupid call sign indoors. “I didn’t come all the way out here to sit back and watch others fight!”

  Terry raised her eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t like fighting.”

  “I don’t, but that’s not the point. I agreed to help you.”

  “You are helping, Adrian,” said Terry, holstering her pistol. “We need capable people to guard our escape too. Raven Three is just as important to this mission as the assault teams.”

  “But... I don’t understand.”

  “There’ll be other missions, Adrian. You’re not ready for something this big yet.”

  I scowled at her. “You want me to help babysit a bunch of cars. Thanks a lot, Terry!”


  Terry grinned. “Now you know how Alia felt when you ditched her at home.”

  Finally, a spark of understanding. “You were setting me up from the start, weren’t you?”

  Terry nodded. “An early birthday present for Cindy. She begged me to keep you out of trouble.”

  My voice went up a notch as I said, “Tell Mr. Simms to put me back in Raven Two!”

  Terry’s tone became ice. “You forget yourself, Adrian. You are still my charge. You’re part of a team and you’ll act like it or I’ll do something you’ll regret.”

  I gave her a disgusted glare, but Terry just stared back in stony-faced silence.

  Huffing loudly, I opened my duffle bag and pulled out Terry’s second pistol and holster. Tossing them back to her, I said stiffly, “So you won’t have to reload.”

  Furious at her treachery, I had wanted to say, “Hope you get shot, Terry!” but I stopped myself for fear of how I might feel if I said that and then she really did.

  Terry looked away and said quietly, “I’m sorry, Adrian.”

  “Happy hunting, Rabbit,” I muttered.

  “Thanks.”

  Within a few minutes, Raven One and Raven Two were reassembled in the clearing. Terry found her place with the other members of Raven Two as I leaned my back against the side of the motorhome and looked on sourly.

  Despite my anger, I automatically focused on the scene before me, taking in the gear the Ravens were using. This certainly wasn’t the military. There was absolutely no standardization among them. Some of the Ravens were dressed in green and gray military camouflage, while others wore dark shirts and pants. Many had backpacks, and I assumed they carried extra equipment such as their night-vision goggles and grenades. Some of the packs were of bright colors, while others were black or military green. The Ravens’ weapons varied widely too. Some were armed with military assault rifles. Others had hunting rifles with heavy-duty scopes. Several of the Knights carried only handguns like Terry, while a few held no weapons at all, choosing to rely solely upon their psionic destroyer powers. I noticed that one man even had a crossbow like the one Ralph owned.

  Flashlights switched on one after another, and after a final equipment check, Mr. Simms and Jack P led their teams into the woods. Terry gave me one last nod before turning her back to me and following Jack P. I stood and watched until I could no longer see any of the Ravens’ lights flickering in the dark woods.

  Then I turned around and kicked one of the motorhome’s rear tires in disgust.

  Terry, who had insisted that even Alia should be allowed to accompany us on our suicidal run to rescue Cindy from the Angels... Terry, of all people!

  I noticed a long shape propped up against the side of one of the SUVs and walked over to examine it.

  It was an assault rifle. One of the Knights had brought it, and then for whatever reason, decided not to take it.

  Forgotten it, more likely, I thought savagely. What a bunch of professionals they are!

  I picked up the assault rifle and held it in my arms. It was much heavier than I expected, but I was nevertheless caught by a sudden urge to carry it into the forest and chase after the Knights. If I caught up, maybe they’d let me join them. If not...

  I pictured myself jumping into the Holy Land as the Raven Knights were pinned down by the God-slayers. The Slayers hadn’t been taken by as much surprise as the Ravens had expected. Hopelessly outnumbered, the Ravens were desperately calling for help. I would save their worthless hides, and then Terry would have to apologize for leaving me here to rot. Mr. Simms would thank me and even Cindy would...

  I froze, looking down at the rifle in my hands. Such stupid thoughts! Stupid ideas! What would a delver think if he could read my mind now? I was just an angry kid who found a gun. I had never even fired an assault rifle. I didn’t even know if it was loaded.

  Suddenly I heard a voice behind me say sharply, “Hey! What are you doing with my gun?”

  I turned around and saw one of the Knights of Raven Three standing beside Mr. Watson and frowning at me. “That’s dangerous, kid,” he said as he briskly walked up to me and snatched the rifle out of my hands. “You could hurt yourself.”

  “Just looking,” I muttered, unable to meet his eyes.

  Mr. Watson turned toward the Knight and said, “Oh, don’t you worry about Hansel. He’s Rabbit’s boy. He knows what he’s doing.”

  I was grateful for the first thing Mr. Watson said, offended by the second, and grudgingly disagreed with the third.

  “Make yourself comfortable, Hansel,” Mr. Watson said casually. “We still have more than two hours before anything happens.”

  I walked back into the motorhome, slammed the door on the noise of the screaming crickets and sat down heavily on one of the lower bunks. Anything that happens tonight would happen in the Holy Land, not here. I wondered if what I was feeling was envy. Did I really want to join the battle, kill people in their sleep, and possibly get shot? No. I had promised Terry I would join the Knights with her. That was all there was to it.

  “Adrian?” said a man’s voice. I raised my head and found myself looking up at Mr. Art Barnum.

  “Hansel,” I corrected half-heartedly.

  “Right,” said Mr. Barnum, “Hansel. They call me Painter.”

  “Painter?” I chuckled. “Well, I guess that wasn’t a very long stretch.”

  “How’d you end up with Hansel?”

  “It’s a bit complicated.”

  Mr. Barnum sat down on the opposite bunk. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to hear it.”

  The short of it was that when I turned psionic about two years ago, I had confided in my sister Cat that I was terrified of what might transpire as a result of my telekinetic power. Cat had suggested that “and they all lived happily ever after” would be the most appropriate ending, and I later made the mistake of telling this to Cindy. The Grimm brothers’ Hansel and Gretel was one of Alia’s favorite bedtime stories, and Cindy took the liberty of choosing our call signs back when Alia and I were conscripted by Mr. Baker for our very first and very doomed mission.

  It took a while to explain all that to Mr. Barnum.

  “I’m glad you’re staying behind, Hansel,” said Mr. Barnum. “This mission sounds quite dangerous, and I’d hate to think how your Gretel would feel if you didn’t return. Besides, I was feeling a bit lonely myself in this crowd.”

  “I know how you feel,” I said, and then asked, “How are you settling into New Haven, Mr. Barnum?”

  Mr. Barnum smiled. “I thought it was Painter, Hansel.”

  “Right,” I said, chuckling. “So, Painter, how are you settling in?”

  “Well, as you can see, I didn’t really have much chance to settle in yet. I have my own place in New Haven Five, though it’s not yet entirely furnished. I had been thinking of looking for a job when this came up.”

  “I hope you get a real job when this is over,” I said.

  We talked for a while longer, and I got to hear a bit about Mr. Barnum’s past life as a fireman. He didn’t make it sound nearly as exciting as I had imagined, but it was good to hear about a lifestyle that was dedicated to preserving life as opposed to ending it.

  When I glanced at my wristwatch, it was past midnight.

  We heard knocking on the side door, and Mr. Barnum opened it to Mr. Watson, who said, “Painter, Hansel, Ravens One and Two are almost on site.”

  “Okay,” said Mr. Barnum, stepping out of the motorhome. I followed him out.

  Mr. Watson was carrying a large radio transceiver in his right hand. It was the only one Raven Three had that was powerful enough to send and receive signals through the thick forest and communicate with the assault teams. It crackled lightly and I heard Mr. Simms say, “Raven One to Raven Two, we are at the entry point. Signal when ready. Over.”

  “Roger that, One,” said Jack P. “We’re nearly there. Over.”

  Some of the drivers had joined the assault teams, so there were only five men in Raven
Three, not counting me. According to the mission plan, each member of Raven Three was supposed to sit at the wheel of one of the SUVs and be ready to move out in seconds. In an abort, it would still take nearly two hours for the Ravens to get back here, but if they had to escape in a different direction, we might be called on to intercept. In that scenario, we would abandon the motorhome, minibus and van in order to make a speedy exit back to the main road. I couldn’t drive so there was no point in me sitting in the sixth SUV, and I figured I’d stay with Mr. Watson so I wouldn’t miss out on the action coming from the transceiver.

  But it turned out that no one was willing to sit at the wheel of a car when they too could be listening in on the mission progress. The Raven Three Knights had instead gathered next to Mr. Watson’s SUV, which was parked near the center of the clearing for better reception. Staying outside with the rest of us, Mr. Watson set the transceiver on the roof of his vehicle as it crackled again.

  We heard Jack P say, “Raven Two to Raven One, we are at the fence. Zero is clearing the hole now. Over.”

  I wondered if Terry was standing beside him. I wondered what was going through her mind, and what she was feeling in the final moments to the attack. Knowing Terry, probably excitement.

  Getting edgy, I tapped the window of the SUV, asking Mr. Watson, “Are all of these cars bulletproof, or just this one?”

  “Bulletproof?” laughed Mr. Watson. “Who told you this car was bulletproof?”

  “You did! Just before we left.”

  “Oh, did I?” asked Mr. Watson, still laughing. “I might have. I can’t believe you took that seriously, Hansel.”

  The Knights chuckled quietly. I stared embarrassedly at the tall weeds as the radio came on again.

  “Raven Two to Raven One,” said Jack P, “we are inside and in position. Awaiting go. Over.”

  “Roger, Two,” said Mr. Simms’s voice. “We will go noisy in ten.”

  Mr. Watson whispered, “Here we go.”

  “Standby... standby,” said Mr. Simms, and a second later, “Go! Go! Go!”

  I heard popping noises from the transceiver. It hardly sounded like gunfire at all. More like balloons popping. Or even popcorn.