“As usual,” grumbled Funston.
“You said the wire is as fine as thread?” mused Mrs. Funston. “Let me think a minute.” She wandered to the desk, took pen and paper, scribbled a while. After discarding a couple of sheets, she held one out to Lang.
“What do you think of this?”
Help Wanted – Female
Seamstresses over 18, reliable, discreet, to unwind and spool valuable thread for minimum of six weeks. Location Dallas. Room and board provision, pay one dollar per day clear. Also experienced Rollers, Laceworkers, and Bunchmakers. Inquire at Blough’s Mftg. Co, Ross & Haskell Sts.
“Er... why Dallas? And why... Blough’s?”
“They have spinning and folding frames. Mrs. Colquitt and I have been patrons. Mainly, no one will notice a lot of girls going in and out of there.”
“Right,” breathed Lang. “We can clear out the shop floor, chop the wire up into chunks–”
“Cut it?” snapped Funston.
“Well, we only need pieces a mile long. If we get forty seamstresses, we make forty pieces, and each takes one on.”
“At a dollar a day, you’ll get hundreds if you want,” said Eda.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned running Second Army, it’s when to delegate,” said Funston. “Why don’t you get Mrs. Colquitt to talk to the governor, dear, and take it from there?”
Chapter 15
April 1912, Martian Base, Texas
The sharp rapping at the train car’s window woke Ronald Gorman. Disoriented, he flung his arms over his head against the expected blows of a jailer’s club; then he realized where he was. This was not the Torreon cell shared with four other living men and the ghost of his foolish business partner. This was a luxurious rail car, and the jailers were outside, and not human. It wasn’t really murder anyway! He would have ruined it all. Those men in power, they all did much worse in their time...
The metal tentacle tapped again, signaling that the Masters had some new need. Gorman groped for his coat, pulled it on, scrambled into the next car, and shook de Gama awake. “Come, priest. You are needed.”
“What time is it?” muttered de Gama, scrubbing at his eyes.
“Before dawn. You know they do not sleep. It must be urgent, though. Come.” They climbed down from the car’s ladder. A sliver of moon, still up, glinted from the metal bulk standing over them. It shifted, scanning the area, then folded its legs and sank to the ground in a peculiar motion like a goat lying down. They walked around the curve of the hull, past the huge, glowing red disk of its eye. At the side, a hatch slid open. A dim red glow silhouetted the flaccid shape of a Master within. It crawled – oozed – its way free of the machine’s confines and gestured with its tendrils. de Gama hesitated; then before Gorman could shove him forward, he shambled toward it of his own accord, bowing his head to the waiting grasp. This time, he did not cry out as the Master sent him its will. Was it from being woken so recently? Practice? After a few minutes, he staggered back; the Master struggled its way back inside; the machine closed itself, rose, and turned away to other purposes.
Gorman caught de Gama in mid-stumble, held him while he steadied on his feet, and wiped the drool from his chin with a shirttail. “Well?”
“We must go. Go back. Home – their home. Mexico, my home.”
“Not mine,” grumbled Gorman. “Why now? The cars are not all filled yet. Is it because of that battle we heard? Did they lose?”
“The dark forces strove brutally against the angels, but did not defeat them. Still, they must regird their host, gather more of their eldritch swords. Towers of light. It will be beautiful here, Gorman. But our lesser host must remain here – the sacrifices. And the empty ore cars. They take nothing back that is not of use.”
“We’ll have to unhook those cars. Then the Masters can shift them,” mused Gorman. “Wait. How long will we be gone?”
“How long does it take to reach Heaven and fall back?”
“Damn it, enough of your nonsense! How long!” But de Gama merely stared into the night. Gorman cursed, hustled him back to the car ladder, and pushed him ahead. Inside, he found and lit a lantern. de Gama’s eyes glittered in the warm light; then he closed them and settled back in a seat.
Gorman walked through the second car, giving a careful glance to the huddled forms of the two Ranger prisoners. They’d given no trouble so far, but the thought of leaving them at the mine unsupervised was not appealing. This car would come along, then. He ducked through into the next, hammered a fist on the doorframe. “Wake up! Wake up, you slugs!”
When the blinking, yawning men had focused on him, he began issuing orders. “The train is leaving here. The cattle car and the three empty ore cars need to be uncoupled. The Masters will lift them out of the way. But three of you will stay to guard and fetch water for our livestock – human and sheep – while the rest of us are gone.”
“Why do we care?” muttered a sleepy Garcia.
“Because if they die from thirst, and the Masters grow hungry, then we are next! Or perhaps you’d prefer rustling more sheep from the middle of a battlefield? There is an entire army encamped out there! Now, Vicario, come with me. We’ll get you a pendant so that you may move about when I am away. Mendez and his lackeys will work the engine, of course. Garcia to guard the prisoners.”
He turned back toward his private car, lifted the lantern, and blinked in surprise as Queen Idar appeared in the companionway. “My queen! Did we wake you?”
“A stone could not have slept through that. What is happening?”
“The Masters have new orders. Our train is to travel back to their base and bring reinforcements. When–” He trailed off as he saw that she was holding the gun belt he’d taken from one of the Rangers. The big Colt dangled in its holster.
“Do not do anything rash, my dear. Boys, stay calm.” Two of his men were armed, but they were behind him. Not a good place to be... But she merely smiled, stepped to him, and lifted the belt.
“You shouldn’t leave this lying about, Doctor. You woke in something of a hurry, I gather?”
“Ah. Quite. Ah...” He passed the lantern to Vicario, swung the belt about his hips, and fastened it. “Why, thank you.”
“Let’s get underway.” She preceded them into the next car, half-turned, and began to add, “When we—” She stumbled over one of the Rangers and fell. “Ouch! You clumsy brute!”
“What the–” blurted the Ranger muzzily in English.
“Keep out of the way!” She shoved at him angrily and pushed herself back to her feet even as Gorman offered a kindly hand. “Ah, thank you, Doctor, but I’m fine. Let us be about it.”
They followed her forward toward the private car that perhaps was becoming hers as well as his. He aimed a kick at the Ranger as he passed. “Keep away from her!”
April 1912, Hebbronville, Texas
Emmet took the kick on a hunched shoulder; it still hurt. They’d endured worse. Once the gang members had passed forward, he opened his clenched hand. Nestled inside was the tiny screwdriver that Jovita Idar had just passed to him. It was meant for the receiver screws of a Winchester and had come from a fold of the scout belt that Gorman had stolen.
It would also make a damn fine picklock against the crude darbies that held him and Hicks to their chain.
“What’s on?” asked Hicks quietly.
“Miss Idar just gave us a gift. I’m going to start working on getting us loose; you keep watch.”
Darkness was no hindrance to lock picking. As Emmet worked, Hicks said, “Didn’t she say to wait until we get over the Grande?”
“They seem awful busy right now. Maybe I can get a look at this Martian base first and slip back.” But he was still tinkering when dawn broke. They could smell smoke from the locomotive now. Twice the car jostled; were those damn machines slinging rail cars around like toys? He got one cuff open, jammed it with a scrap of cloth, and left it on his wrist for show while he worked on the second one. “This is harder
than I thought. If things get rushed, can you tear out that end of the chain in the wall? It’s just wooden planks there.”
Hicks braced and pulled. “Yeah, I think so.”
“Okay, that leaves one padlock at the other end. Looks crude. Might have to just get that open instead, if it’s not too awkward for you.”
“I can do a lot of damage swinging twenty pounds of chain,” said Hicks grimly. “Don’t worry about it, Emmet.”
The train jolted and began to move, slowly picking up speed – they were pulling a heavy load. They passed out through the berm wall; the horizon seen through the windows opened up. Several tripods paced alongside, guarding.
“No sign of any opposition,” said Hicks. “I guess all our fellas are still concentrated at Alice.”
“If they spread out, the Martians’ll chop them up... Hah!” The second cuff clicked open. He rigged it like the first, then eyed the padlock. That looked like quick work, but he’d have to be loose to get over to it, and if someone walked in...
Several men did just that, clattering through the car toward the front of the train. He counted four without appearing to. And no signal yet from Miss Idar. Once he freed Hicks, they’d be committed – and obviously so. He’d give her until they were past Laredo.
That took a couple of hours, during which they were ignored. The train worked up to a respectable speed; several tripods ran alongside. Their strange gait always reminded Emmet of just how alien they truly were. But what was going on up there in the lead cars? Ugly possibilities occupied his thinking. He couldn’t figure out the way ‘Doctor’ Gorman treated Idar; it seemed fantastical. The rest were just crooks who’d found a new boss, but he was a real piece of work. Maybe he’d gone crazy. His ‘priest’ – de Gama? – sure had.
Finally, they passed through Laredo. Emmet had known it would be bad, but the only buildings visible were charred skeletons. Nothing had been spared – except the rail bridge. The Martians needed that.
“Bastards,” muttered Hicks.
“Yep. Came all this way from another planet just to kill and destroy. I just don’t get it.”
“Maybe no man ever will. Emmet...”
“Yeah, I know. Can’t wait any longer.” He slipped the darbies, moved to the padlock, and began tinkering with it. “Won’t be but a minute–”
The forward door opened; a gang member walked in. Emmet recognized the man; Gorman had called him Garcia.
The man actually came halfway down the aisle before he reacted to what Emmet was doing; then he cried out in surprise and fumbled for his pistol. Emmet was already lunging in two galloping steps. He grabbed Garcia’s forearm and slammed it against a seat rail; the pistol skittered onto the floor. Garcia punched him with his other hand; they grappled, rolling onto the aisle. Garcia kicked loose, leaving Emmet sprawled. Emmet didn’t look for the pistol; a gunshot would ruin things. Instead he just went after Garcia again, but he tangled with the seat legs. The gang member spun and bolted toward the forward door. In an instant he’d be shouting–
A tearing crack sounded as Hicks tore the chain out of the wall. He stumbled back a couple of steps, twisted, and slung the loose chain like a lariat. It caught Garcia around the neck and jerked him clean off his feet; he landed heavily. Emmet pounced onto him, grabbed the links, twisted them tight. Garcia flailed and clawed at him; Hicks threw his weight onto the chain’s other end, dragging both other men a foot down the aisle with his unbreakable, cuffed grip. Presently nature took its course. Emmet stayed put for a moment to be sure, then rose, gasping.
Miss Idar was standing at the forward doorway. She looked pale but composed. “Uh – sorry you had to see that.”
“I have seen worse.” She lugged a bucket of water down the aisle to them. “He was supposed to be guarding me while I brought you this. It’s no matter.”
Emmet scooped up the pistol, a small Browning automatic. “Hey,” said Hicks. “That was Blackwell’s piece.”
“Yeah.” Emmet didn’t bother kicking Garcia’s corpse. He returned to working on the padlock; in a minute it clicked open. “Hicks, are you sure..?”
“Hell, it worked like a charm the first time.” Hicks coiled the chain and held it easily.
“All right then. First, let’s slake. Might not be more for a while.” They guzzled the water in moments between them. “Now let’s see about those other folks.”
Emmet went first with the automatic. The next car was empty; he moved carefully down the aisle, checking into sheltered spots. “All right, they could have a guard on the prisoners in the cattle car. There’s a lot of penetration with this caliber; I don’t want to shoot one of them after it goes through the guard! Miss Idar, can you take a look first? He won’t be surprised to see you.”
She went on tiptoe at the door’s small window. “Oh... Oh, no. It’s gone.”
Emmet slid over beside her and looked. The next car... was an open hopper car, heaped with yellowish dirt. More and more of those marched back until they ended. There were no other passenger or cattle cars. Nuevo Laredo was fading in the background.
“They must have left it behind,” he said. “I know they were shifting cars around... I’m sorry, Miss Idar. We can’t help them.”
“We should bail soon, unless you figure to fight all the rest with one peashooter,” said Hicks. “If that pendant really gets us past those tripods, it’ll only be a couple days’ hike to Zapata or some other place along the Grande.”
Idar looked crushed. “But they were counting on me. I promised them...”
“You told Targas?” said Emmet incredulously.
“Well, not him. But two others. They can be trusted, I think... I must stay and try again. You go back and report.”
“No, you have to come with us,” said Emmet. “Otherwise those tripods’ll fry us. Besides, you’re the only one who knows anything about the layout of that base. That could be vital.”
“Then they’ll have no one! I won’t leave them!”
“Trip back’s getting longer,” said Hicks.
Something else occurred to Emmet; it tipped the balance in his mind. “Miss Idar. If I give you my word that I will go back with you to that mine and help them, will you come with us now? We can use your pendant to get back in, and we’ll be a lot better armed than we are now. I’d say it was a good chance. Besides, that sidearm and scout belt are Ranger property, and I want ’em back.”
Hicks blinked, swallowed, and added, “I’ll go too. Got a score to settle.”
She said nothing for a few moments while the train axles clunked rhythmically. “Very well. There should be enough livestock to feed those creatures for a few weeks. I don’t know how Gorman will react to this, but his priest seems to have some decency left. They may be spared long enough to go back.”
“I’ll watch out for an upgrade.” Emmet opened a window and cautiously peered ahead. After a few minutes, they began approaching some foothills. “Okay, get ready.”
They assembled at the car’s companionway; when the train slowed, each in turn gauged the drop and leaped, sprawling in the dust. The ore cars rumbled past as they picked themselves up and regrouped. “Everyone okay?”
Two acknowledgments; Emmet turned east. “Let’s duck into that–”
A tripod loomed up, striding fluidly beside the train. Emmet stared up at it for a long, freezing moment; then it continued onward, its strange metal feet stamping into the ground beside the tracks.
“Whoo,” said Hicks. “Think it saw us?”
“I don’t know. That’s another thing.” Emmet reached out and tapped a finger on Idar’s pendant. “Is there a lock on that thing that can be opened, when you don’t need it?”
“No. It is... their work. Only the machine in Gorman’s car can open it.”
“You can’t have that thing on you for the rest of your damn life!” said Hicks. “I mean, if it’s like their power cells, you try to cut it off and it’ll... And those Washington boys, they’ll treat you like some experiment.”
“We’ll need to think on this,” said Emmet. “But for now, let’s get back to the Grande. It’s not high right now, should be plenty of crossing points.”
They set out quickly, not trusting the tripod to not swing back. Once they had hiked a couple of miles from the rail line, and there was no sign of any pursuit, Emmet called a halt under the cover of some bushes. He was worried about the period of confinement; they would all get tired faster than usual. He spent the time picking open Hicks’ cuffs; he was getting quicker at it.
“How’d you know that screwdriver was something you’d find in the belt, anyway?” asked Hicks.
Idar smiled. “I interviewed a Texas Ranger last year, when I was still working as a journalist.” Emmet expected to catch a glare at that, but she merely continued. “He was very forthcoming. He gave me more detail than I could possibly use – or so I thought.”
“Hatchet job?” asked Emmet. “Not that I’m complaining right now...”
“No, I wanted his outlook and I included it. It wasn’t that sort of piece. It also wasn’t what he thought, which was the equivalent of buying me a drink at a bar. I had to stick a hatpin in him to convince him of that.”
“Who was that?” asked Emmet with some disapproval.
“George Stanford. He was with Company D at Laredo.”
“Ah.” He busied himself with his work. People were complicated.
“I could look him up, if you like,” offered Hicks.
“Just leave it. Okay, we’re done. That chafe’s bleeding, better wrap it.” Emmet kicked a hole in the dirt and buried the chain. “Let’s go.”
They set out cross-country, following game trails where they could. It grew hot, but not enough to lay up and walk at night; they needed to get back quickly. The easiest route turned out to be northeast, so they angled further away from the rail line as they went. By late afternoon, they crossed a ridgeline and could see the greener valley of the Rio Grande lying eastward; there’d be water soon, no reason not to push on.
The Texas Front: Salient Page 21