The Dream Widow (12 page)

The patrol circled the open grassland and continued east through the aspens. The earth rose gradually under the yellow leaves.

A tribal voice yelled through the trees ahead and Carter slowed his steps. He raised his hand and continued alone.

The leaves ended suddenly and Carter caught himself at the edge of a fifty-meter drop. A faded maple leaf floated down from his feet to a regular line of olive-green tents along a stream. Carter counted off thirty until the line disappeared around a rise in the forest. Clean-shaven and sober soldiers walked through the camp in mottled green and brown uniforms. This wasn’t a patchwork group of raiders or even a tribal army. Many gathered around a central tent marked with a pair of white bars.

Metal clanged on metal and echoed below Carter. He scanned the perimeter for guards before crawling back. The boys huddled together.

“Circle camp. A hundred or more. We’re on the roof of a cave opening. I heard more inside.”

“Right, now we go back,” said Robb.

Carter shook his head. “We’re not out here to run away from trouble. Let’s bag a few before we go.”

“What if we get shot? Who’s going to warn the others?”

“I say do it,” said Nelson. “The three of us know the sight-trick so we wait until dark. We shoot half a dozen and hightail it out of here before they wake up.”

“Carter just said there were hundreds,” whispered Robb.

“A hundred men aren’t worth spit if we scare them to death,” said Carter. “This is your chance to get some action, Robb. Both you and Lizzie.”

Robb stared into the leaves and glided his fingers over the smooth stock of his crossbow.

“All right,” said Carter. “Lizzie goes with me to the left edge and Robb follows Nelson to the right. We shoot three bolts and leave. Less if anyone’s spotted.”

“Fine,” said Robb. “But what if a patrol comes by?”

“Leave them alone, of course.”

They quietly buried themselves in leaves and bramble as twilight deepened to night. A cluster of soldiers passed at one point but the youngsters from Station were quiet as fleas.

When it was dark enough they crawled in a line toward the camp. Carter and Lizzie moved left. Robb followed Nelson along the right edge of the overhang, careful not to knock anything into space. The trees glowed from the coals of a half-dozen campfires. Nelson found a wide aspen trunk and Robb settled beside him. He checked his loaded crossbow and watched the roaming patterns of the few scattered guards.

A low hoot came from Carter.

“Take the one below,” whispered Nelson.

Robb put the glowing dots and post of his sights on a figure standing beside a campfire. A soft click and whisk sounded beside him and a hoarse yell of pain came from the camp. Robb pulled the trigger release and the bow jerked. His target fell backwards into the fire with a spray of orange coals.

Men began to yell in the tribal dialect. With one foot Robb pushed the leather strap at the front of his crossbow and pulled the reload bar with his right hand. The bowstring locked into place and he slotted another bolt in the channel.

Shadowy figures pulled his first target out of the fire. Robb shot his second bolt at the men and heard a high-pitched scream from one of the group.

A hand grabbed his arm and he and Nelson crawled back through the forest and away from the camp.

A sound like an enraged clockwork grizzly roared through the night air. Robb and Nelson put their backs to the wide trunk of a pine as the ground vibrated and the trees flashed with a lithium-white beam of light. Robb felt the earth shake from a tiny earthquake.

The loud pop of an automatic cannon blasted through the forest. Twigs and yellow chips of wood rained to the ground.

The gunfire sawed through the trees and away from them. At last it stopped and the blinding light faded.

Robb whispered the sight-trick poem and the forest changed to shades of fuzzy grey and charcoal. He looked back toward the camp and saw a figure stumbling toward them. As it came closer he recognized Carter. He put an arm under the hunter’s shoulder and helped him limp deeper into the forest.

Nelson grabbed Carter’s arm. “Where’s Lizzie?”

“Dead,” whispered Carter. “Shot in the face.”

“We can’t leave her!”

Carter wobbled away from Robb and collapsed in the leaves. His left side and back were damp with blood.

Nelson used his strength-trick to carry the wounded man closer to Station. When they made it over the next ridge Robb bandaged the injuries as well as he could. He stayed behind for a few minutes to watch for pursuit, then used the running-trick to catch up with Nelson and Carter at Station’s perimeter.

SIX

T
he wall display beeped three times. Three squares crept across a gray-tinted, overhead view of Station and the surrounding mountains.

Wilson stood from Reed’s desk. He circled the symbols with one hand and spread his fingers. Highlighted boxes appeared with detailed information, including vital signs. The square labeled “Barbra A. Carter” flashed with an exclamation point. Wilson studied the respiration and heart rates and touched the square for additional details. He glanced at the data and sprinted out of the office.

Badger turned away from the light of the open doorway and pushed her face deeper into the quilt.

“A patrol’s coming back,” said Wilson. “Carter’s hurt and Lizzie is missing.”

Badger threw off the quilt and slid out of bed. Completely naked, she padded across the floor to a small wooden cabinet and slid open a drawer.

Wilson stared at the dozens of round scars up and down her body. Most were pink or white, but others were deeply flushed. Wilson had a sudden, fanciful thought that these fiery marks were closer to the center of Badger’s anger.

She turned, a bundle of clothes in her arms. “What are you looking at?”

“I didn’t know you slept like that.”

She smiled. “I wasn’t planning on sleeping but someone fell in love with a book.”

While she dressed Wilson ran through the tunnels to the Barracks workshop and gave Hausen the news. He met Badger in the plaza and they jogged toward the pass.

“Run ahead with your magical powers and let me go back to sleep,” she said.

“What would be the fun in that? I like having you around.”

“My bad luck.”

The serpentine trail wound through the sheer rock of the pass and into the thick trees of the foothills. A pair of hunters on guard duty met them inside the forest. Wilson spoke a few words to the men and they followed him and Badger along the dark trail.

Wilson found Carter outside a perimeter hideout, covered with a blanket but still breathing. Robb and Nelson squatted nearby, sweating and exhausted, while two other hunters constructed a litter with saplings and a blanket.

“What happened?”

Nelson drained the last of a water skin and pointed east. “Big group of Circle that way, maybe one or two klicks off the perimeter.”

“They shot Carter and Lizzie,” said Robb.

“Where is she?”

Nelson closed his eyes. “Dead.”

“Where’s the body?”

“Back there, across the ridge.”

Wilson grabbed the front of Nelson’s jacket. “You left her there?”

“They had a demonic cannon! It blinded us and ripped the trees apart with bullets!”

“Yeah. We heard it even from this far away,” said Zhang, one of the hunters.

Wilson knelt beside Carter and held two fingers on the hunter’s pale neck for a moment.

“We need to get him back to Station and operate.” He pointed at two of the Duty hunters. “Stay here at your post.”

“I’ll do it,” said Badger.

“Fine.” Wilson took a deep breath. “I’ll send extra men when I get back. But Kira, if the Circle approaches, you need to fall back. We don’t know anything about this new machine they’ve got.”

Badger shrugged. “Sure.”

“Robb, help me get him on the stretcher. Let’s see if you remember how to run.”

Wilson and Robb closed their eyes and chanted the sight-trick then the running-trick. Their feet threw grit and small stones as they ran with Carter’s stretcher back to Station.

Outside the hideout, Nelson hid his face with his hands.

LIZZIE WOKE IN THE DARK. She licked the dryness on her lips and felt a thick lack of feeling in her cheeks and mouth. When she tried to touch her face she discovered that her arms and legs were stretched and tied fast to something heavy. From the soft material under her legs and back, she guessed it was a bed.

The meditation of the calming-trick made her feel better and removed a fraction of the numbness in her body. She imagined staring into the sun and whispered a poem.

            Eyes made of light

            Eyes made of sun

            Eyes made of moon

            Restore my sight

She opened her eyes to the grey walls of a large tent. A thick woolen blanket covered her. When she tried to look to the left, pain like a jagged, rusty knife stabbed the side of her head.

Outside the tent a young robin warbled his song: ‘mountain and valleys, mountain and valleys.’

Lizzie pushed and pulled one wrist until it slipped free of the ropes, then untied her other arm and ankles. She stood on the rough carpet and abruptly collapsed as the world spun in circles. Her fingers touched a thick bandage above her left ear, secured with thin fabric wound tightly around her head. She realized with a shock that she wore the same muddy trousers but a strange, olive-green jacket and new undershirt. 

A water-skin lay on a nearby table. Lizzie waited until the dizziness faded, then leaned forward and took it.

Apart from the warbling robin and the calm shouts of men in the distance, few sounds entered the tent. Lizzie knelt and pulled up the back edge of the canvas.

The forest outside was bright with early morning and the leaves were white with frost. As quietly as she could, Lizzie slid under the edge and began to run through the straight white trunks of the aspens.

DARIUS CLICKED HIS METAL TALONS and watched a tiny spider creep along the green canvas. Before it reached the far side of the tent he stood and smeared the spider into a streak of red.

A hand-bell rang outside.

“Ready, sir,” said the orderly.

Darius stepped outside the tent and into the soft morning light. A packed rectangle of two hundred troops lined the bank of the stream: three platoons of Circle regulars and one from the tribes. All stood at attention, arms and legs straight, right hand properly supporting the rifle on the shoulder. Darius pulled his shoulders back and walked along the line, giving each man a good stare.

The soldiers were taller than most tribals and obviously exercised and well-fed on the Consul’s land. Like all lower-class members of the Circle, a tattoo of three black, interlocking rings marked the left cheek of each man. It was quite appropriate, thought Darius, that before the war that symbol had been slapped on dangerous materials.

Each of the regulars wore a brown knit cap and a uniform patterned in dappled shades of green and brown. A shield with a flying crow––the Consul’s family mark––was sewn on the front of each cap and on the left shoulder. Canvas pouches around the waist held extra ammunition, water, a long knife, bandages, and the hated “iron rations.”

For arms, the soldiers carried a black, short-barreled rifle with a rectangular magazine––the newest design from Albu City. As he walked down the line of green uniforms, Darius regretted not having any of these weapons before.

After the three platoons of regular Circle troops were a dozen “bear” soldiers. Dogs with massive heads and black fur sat at attention beside each handler, who gripped a thick chain in both hands. Each large and rough-looking man was like a human version of the savage animal beside him. Because of their respected status in the army they were allowed to grow beards, and wore tall bearskin hats.

The conscripted tribal platoon stood next to the bear soldiers. Most shifted their feet or caused their equipment to jangle slightly. These men wore solid-green uniforms and knit caps, and carried single-shot rifles along with belts full of equipment.

The line of troops ended before the soaring mouth of the cave. The granite roof sparkled with moisture and stretched into the darkness. A golden leaf fluttered from a tree at the lip, fifty meters above.

On the pebbled floor of the cavern sat an eight-wheeled monster. With a steep prow, sloped metal sides, and a small turret the olive-green, black-striped vehicle was no more elegant than a brick. At each corner of the prow were large eyes––electrical lamps protected by glass. A thin, straw-like barrel extended from the armored turret along with a cluster of silver lamps. The door for loading troops was armored and in the rear. Parked to the left of the vehicle were several four-wheeled fuel transports.

Darius stood beside the green monster and waited as the Consul and her surgeon walked along the line of troops. She looked cold even under her long, fur-lined overcoat. Darius removed his cap and bowed as they approached.