by A. S. Hames
It flashes through my mind that I could write a poem or a song about living out our last moments but I swat it away like a fly. I have to keep my focus. We are a deadly force with the advantage of surprise. But wrong thoughts are hard to repel. What if I’m wounded? What if Ben is wounded? Or killed? What if they take us alive?
Ben halts. I halt.
I wipe the dribble that seeps from the corner of my mouth. I know death is close. My thoughts are running from it. They’re scared of it. My life force is urging me to run, to join my fleeing thoughts and disappear into those mountains where I’d never be found.
Ben moves. I move.
Over dusty, hard terrain.
Not far now.
Each inch covered makes the trail feel like the most dangerous place in the world. I try my best to stay calm. The burning sun is on my back. Hot blood is thumping in my head. The objective is simple – to crawl past the stupid checkpoint and then approach it from the south with the wagon. I cajole myself. Just keep going, you big coward. Just damn well keep going.
Only, the wagon is now turning up to the checkpoint. We’ve missed it.
We stop. We wait.
I slurp back more dribble. The smell of cooking is driving me crazy. I just hope Von can’t smell it. I look back to check. And damn! He’s halfway toward us, his nose high in the air! That sorry wolf smelled it long before I did. And Ben’s dribbling too. I point backward with my thumb. He sees Von now. This could be serious.
One of the guards is at the door again. He waves the wagon through.
We push down into the dirt, trying to meld, to merge with the earth but we’re more exposed than earlier. For me, the whole of the possible universe may now extend no farther than this moment.
Ben catches my eye.
“I’m thinking they’ll see Von. And if they see him, they’ll see us.”
“Then we need to change direction.”
He nods.
We cover the ground fast. Ben is ahead of me and he gets to the side of the checkpoint just as a guard comes out.
“Whoa! A wolf!”
The other guard races out. “Where?”
“There, stupid.”
They are ten feet from Ben but they haven’t seen him.
“What do you reckon? Fifty yards?”
“Hang on,” the second guard says. He goes inside and we hear him talking into his radio. “Checkpoint to main gate. If you hear a couple of shots, pay no heed. Alvo’s spotted a wolf at fifty yards.”
“Ha! Alvo couldn’t hit a tree from three feet. Have fun.”
The second guard comes out again. “Paul says he respects your shooting ability.”
“Yeah, so I heard,” says Alvo, raising his rifle. “I’ll only need one shot.”
“No!” Ben yells.
Oh God. The guards turn on him.
“Drop the weapon,” he’s told.
He has two of them pointing guns. I could shoot one, but the other one might shoot Ben.
He drops his gun.
“A spy,” Alvo says. “I say we have some fun with it then shoot it.”
It?
Ben’s not an “it”. I wonder what to do.
“I say we shoot that thing first,” the other guard says.
Alvo lines up a shot at Von.
I’m all out of options. There are no alternatives that will keep all three of us alive. I am up. I shoot. As Alvo goes down, Ben jumps on the back of the other one. He throws Ben off and takes aim at me, but I shoot him in the chest. The guard stares at me and we share a moment where our eyes meet. His are asking questions. I don’t know what he can see in mine. Fear? Sorrow? I wish I could tell him how I’m against war as a way to resolve things.
“Quick,” Ben says.
I call Von and within seconds the three of us are devouring duck, carrot, and potato pats that are far too hot to eat but far too wonderful to wait for. Then, with burning mouths, and still munching, we drag the bodies into a corner of the cabin. Next, we eat their cookies, drink their water, and take their handguns. I also grab their spyglass. This is war and we need to be as ready as we can for what’s coming next.
16. The Fort
BEN
I give a thought to cleaning the blood from the dead soldiers’ uniforms and trying to pass ourselves off as guards. It won’t work though. We’re going into a situation where the guards are well known to each other. And anyway, how the hell are we supposed to wash blood from clothing?
I realize I’m thinking too much.
Using the spyglass, I study the fort. I’m impressed more than ever by the white stone central building poking up above the wall that runs around the whole settlement. The building’s top windows have porches outside, which I’ve never seen the like of before. It’s like one of the stages you would go through on your way to building taller towers. It makes me realize these people know more than I do – that I’ve been living in a kind of ignorance.
I lower my sight to the closed main gate. The point of no return. Then I swing the spyglass south. There’s another wagon approaching, led by a man with a mule. I tell Jay.
“Good,” she says.
“Good? I hate to spoil things, but how will the wagon get us in? There are no checkpoint guards to give the gate any kind of message. And what if the wagon’s not going inside? What if it’s heading north?”
“Nobody’s heading north, Ben. There’s nothing to head north for.”
“Well… I suppose you’re right about that.”
“We’ll just have to think of something when it gets here.”
The first thing we need to do is get a guard and sit him in a chair by the window facing the fort – without making him too visible to the wagon coming up from the south.
Once that’s done, I take another look around with the spyglass, because I don’t want to meet any kind of unexpected patrol.
Strangely, when I look beyond the fort to the north-east, I’m drawn to something unexpected. Guarded by a group that consists of both charcoals and buffs, there’s a road. From what I can make out, it starts at the fort as a normal trail then turns north to become the widest, straightest road I’ve ever seen. Then, two hundred yards on, it stops dead. There’s just grass ahead.
“Strange road,” I say, handing the spyglass to Jay.
She takes a look.
“Maybe they’re going to build another fort.”
“Maybe,” I say, although there’s no sign of any kind of building activity.
Outside, the wagon is nearing our checkpoint.
“Am I okay for the fort?” the man with the wagon calls.
“How are we going to do this?” I ask Jay.
“Um…”
“Did you get the wolf?”
We stare at the radio.
“You have to answer him, Ben.”
“I have the wrong voice.”
“Pretend you’re eating lunch.”
I don’t have much faith in myself for this, but I shove a piece of screwed-up paper into my mouth, lean into the microphone, and chew.
“Alvo missed.”
“You have to press the send button,” Jay says.
I do so.
“Alvo missed.”
“Ha! I knew it! Is that wagon coming in?”
I gulp and chew some more. “Yup…”
“Okay, enjoy your lunch.”
As the wagon pulls up, I spit out the paper and go out to the wagon.
“The guard said to carry on,” I say.
“Fine, but I can’t sell you anything here,” he says. “If it’s tricks or souvenirs you’re after, you’ll have to wait till we’re inside.”
“I understand,” I tell him. “I’m a trader myself. Ben’s the name.”
“You speak with an accent,” he says.
“We’ve only been in the south a year,” I tell him. “Before that we were in Freedom Country.”
“A little young to be on your own, aren’t you?”
“I represent my fa
ther. He’s an hour back along the trail.”
“Yes, well, I’m busy right now.”
“Father deals in cloth – the best in the whole of Lake Country.”
“As I said, I’m really too busy,” he says.
He tugs the mule’s leash, and the animal begins pulling the wagon. I walk alongside, trying to make friends before we reach the gate.
“So what’s this place like? What can I tell my father?”
“Why ask me?”
“You seem to know what’s what,” I say.
Jay is now alongside me. I’m wondering about Von, but I see our wolf lying flat on the back of the wagon.
Jay nudges me. “Pa said to avoid people who didn’t know what’s going on.”
“I know what’s going on, young lady. There’s no need to be rude.”
“Oh,” Jay says, “I’m sorry. It’s just that Pa doesn’t like us talking to the wrong kind of people. Pleased to meet you. I’m Jay.”
“Is it a good place to trade,” I ask.
“It should be, what with all the celebrations and fireworks going on.”
“So it’s safe then?” I ask.
“Yes, it’s safe,” he says.
We’re soon approaching the gate, which is opening up to us. Two of the guards are messing around with a couple of women just inside. They wouldn’t notice an invading army coming through. Another two are talking. They aren’t paying attention either.
Finally, we’re being eyed by a charcoal guard.
“Father…” I say. “Father…” I lean in close to the trader and lower my voice. “…Father says he’ll give a big discount to the first honest trader who sets us straight.”
The trader smiles. The guard looks disinterested. And who can blame him? There’s nothing much happening.
JAY
Inside, there are many hundreds of people. Charcoals and buffs, and plenty of civilians too. I also see street entertainers, jugglers, singers, poets, and a painted woman with a small dancing bear.
I try to take it all in as quickly as I can. Who knows how long we have. I reckon the size of the compound is two hundred yards from front gate to rear wall, and a hundred side to side. The big building is toward the rear at the end of the main street, but there are many other buildings here too: soldiers’ barracks, workshops, mess halls, and, right at the back – ha! – a train in a station!
I don’t think this is where they make things. I reckon the engines, cars, and so on must be made farther south because you’d need big factories. I reckon this place is more about government.
We head up the main street toward the big building, but just before we reach it, we veer off to a market square. Here Von jumps down from the wagon to join us, like it’s nothing at all.
The trader we’re with nods to other traders already showing off their goods.
“There’s gonna be fireworks,” one of them says.
“I know that,” our trader tells him.
“And there’s going to be an execution for the camera,” another says.
“That I didn’t know,” our trader says.
I look around and spy a film team. This is bad. I only have to glance at Ben to see he shares my feelings. Please don’t let it be Zu.
“How long has there been an alliance between buffs and charcoals?” I ask.
The trader laughs. “I haven’t heard them called that before. East State and South State would be more respectful. And it’s pretty recent.”
“So you’re all East State then.”
“No, we’re from the south. You should know that, girl. Where did you say you’re from?”
“Freedom Country,” I lie.
“I’ve never been up that way. You were Nation till recently then?”
“You’ll find plenty of people in Freedom Country have been waiting for the chance to leave the Nation.”
He looks set to ask more questions, but a commotion grabs our attention.
“Here they come,” one of the traders says.
It’s Zu. She’s one of five prisoners being brought out of the central building. Their mouths are taped but their eyes are wide open with fear. I look to Ben and he’s fighting back anger. I feel the same way, but we need to stay in charge of our feelings. We can’t just pull out our guns. We’d get Zu and ourselves killed.
No, we have to find another way out of this mess. Not that I can see any hopeful signs. Only doom, really. But it can change. If there’s anything I’ve learned about war, it’s that you should never expect anything to stay the same for long.
While we’re watching the prisoners being led to a wooden frame, a man jumps up on a wagon to address us.
“Today, we execute five enemies of the East and South States. Butchering babies, attacking mothers, and killing our defenseless old folk are serious crimes.”
The crowd roars its agreement, even though the announcer hasn’t actually said these five have committed those crimes. Poor Zu. Her eyes express so much. Fear, sorrow, confusion. And now she sees me! She’s wide-eyed. I’ve given her hope. What right have I to do that? There is no hope. There’s nothing I can do to save her.
“Justice will be carried out by the winner of the Sharpshooter Competition, William Meyers.”
More cheering. And now a stupid boy of around fifteen gets up besides the announcer and waves. He’ll be a hero for taking lives without troubling himself to discover, at least in Zu’s case, that he’s murdering an innocent young person.
It takes me back to Forbearance and poor Essie. The only difference here is the shooter is likely to be a lot more proficient.
“Our leaders will soon appear on the upper balcony to observe the executions, but how about we give a moment of silence to the dead babies… … …and terminate a couple of our captives now to give young William some practice.”
The crowd cheers in agreement.
“There must be something we can do,” Ben says.
Something occurs to me.
“The fireworks,” I tell him. “How about I find out where they’re keeping them and set them all off?”
“You think it might cause a big enough distraction?”
“I don’t know.”
Ben goes across to a trader.
“What kind of fireworks are they?” he asks.
The trader spits on the ground by Ben’s foot.
“Good ones, I guess,” he says.
“I’m going to be a fireworks dealer when I’m older,” Ben says. “I reckon they’d let me see them, if I knew where they were kept…”
“There’s no one gonna tell you where they keep ‘em, boy,” he says. “Whether you’re gonna be selling ‘em yourself or not.”
“Ah, what’s the big secret,” another trader says. “Anything that don’t feed animals or soldiers comes off the train straight into the store.”
I’m looking at the train, and the workhands who are lugging supplies off it and into the central building.
“Stay here, Ben,” I say. “I won’t be long.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No, stay with Von.”
Ben grabs my arm.
“We’re in this together, Jay.”
“If this goes wrong, I’d like one of us to get out alive. Besides, I outrank you.”
He’s not happy, but he lets go.
Free of Ben’s well-meaning grip, I quickly make my way to the rear of the building. From here, I study the train station. It’s simple but clever. There’s a big gate at each end, north and south. This train has come in from the south. With the gate closed behind it, it’s certainly a secure way to unload meat, vegetables, fruit, and sacks of corn.
I think of taking a sack myself and carrying it into the central building. The problem is my lack of eating opportunities over recent days and weeks means my body isn’t strong enough to carry a big load. I’d collapse halfway and that’s not going to save Zu.
Feeling there must be something smaller I can carry, I work my way toward the bus
y scene around the train. Beyond the goods wagons, there are a couple of carriages. Here, men are in discussions. I look in through an open carriage door. There’s a man with some paperwork. While he’s talking to someone, I lean in and take a couple of papers from his bag.
I make my way straight to the central building. The papers I have are both headed “Invoice”, so I might be lucky.
At the entrance, a guard gives me a look of deep suspicion.
“Invoices,” I say, showing him the documents.
I see he has trouble reading, and a certain lack of comfort with the general business of invoices.
“I was told to hurry or I’d be in trouble,” I tell him.
He lets me through into the storage area. I’m in a hurry now but I can’t see any fireworks. I continue through to a big hallway with polished pine stairs on one side leading upward.
Krak!
Gunfire. That stupid, dumb, ignorant fool must have shot one of the prisoners. Zu is either dead, or as good as dead. I try to stay calm but I feel so useless. The reality is simple. We need to get away. We killed people to get into this place, and now we need to leave as quickly and as quietly as we can.
Two men are coming down the stairs so I step back into a doorway.
“…twenty minutes or so. Keep him on the top floor for now, then we’ll bring him down with the camera rolling. Make sure the meeting room has plenty of water and cookies. And make sure the pens have ink in them. When the Leader signs the declaration, I don’t want any embarrassing delays.”
“Yes sir.”
“And make sure the flags are draped properly. I want them as a backdrop for the camera…”
They’re gone.
I step out and look up the stairs. Something crazy is stirring in me. We’ve probably failed to rescue Zu, but what – and it’s a really big what – but what if we could rescue the Leader of the Nation?
It has to be worth a try.
Not surprisingly, my lungs hurt and my legs are burning by the time I reach the top floor. I’ve never been up so many stairs. It’s like climbing a mountain.
At the top, there’s a door onto a roof space. It’s bigger than a porch. It’s more like a stone-paved yard. And there are the fireworks in two big cases. I guess they’re going to set them off up here so that everyone in the fort gets to see them. As it is, I reckon anyone within ten miles would see them.