Freedom Fire, page 10
“What do you mean I can’t go?” Two Step demanded.
“I didn’t say you can’t go,” Magdalys sighed. They were walking along the endless procession of soldiers toward the medical unit. She’d hoped talking it out one-on-one would be better, just in case he—
“What’s even the point of my being here if I can’t go along with you when you’re doing dangerous stuff?”
—lost his cool.
“I just think it would probably be better,” Magdalys said, “if you—”
“You’re benching me!” Two Stop yelled, his eyebrows inching closer together as his nostrils flared. “You’re benching me because I’m not good enough!”
Soldiers and dinos alike were glancing over with concern now.
Magdalys shushed him and immediately regretted it. “That’s not it,” she tried to say soothingly.
“Don’t shush me, Magdalys Roca!” Two Step yelled. “You don’t get to shush me! And who made you the boss of us anyway? Just because we came to help you find your brother doesn’t mean you get to just decide what happens to everybody!”
“I’m not bossing you around,” Magdalys said, stopping. “I’m worried about you, Two Step!”
He spun around, finger out. “Well, don’t!”
“Two Step, you haven’t …” She shook her head. Any way she could think of to say it, it sounded like she was calling him weak, or saying that he wasn’t good enough, but that was the opposite of what she wanted to say.
“Go head,” he goaded. “Say it.”
“You haven’t been the same since what happened that night in the Penitentiary.”
They stood face-to-face now, but Two Step looked like the wind was knocked out of him, his eyes glaring at Magdalys’s shoes, his shoulders heaving up and down with each labored breath. “Say it,” he whispered. “Say what I did.”
“Two Step …”
“Say it, Magdalys.”
“You saved my life.”
“I killed someone, Magdalys.”
“You saved your own life.”
“He’s still dead though.”
Magdalys shook her head.
“He is. And now you think I’m not good enough to fly.”
“No!” Magdalys yelled, taking him by the shoulders. “Listen to me: I love that …” No, that definitely wasn’t right. She shook her head, tried again, forcing herself to slow down. “I think it’s … right … that it’s hard for you. You’re not weak, Two Step. You’re human. I mean, I don’t want you to be hurting and torn up about it, but it would be weird if you were just cool about it too. Nothing is right, none of this makes sense. There is no right way to deal with what we’ve been through, what you’ve been through. And it’s even harder because everything just keeps” — she flailed around at the never-ending march of war streaming past — “everything keeps happening! It’s only happening more now, in fact! And none of us can catch our breath. But none of us did what you did. And I’m not … I won’t let you … I know I’m not your boss, but I’m not putting you back into a situation where you might go through it all again when you haven’t even … when you’re still dealing with what you’ve been through.”
He stared at her.
“With killing someone,” she finally said. “To save my life and yours,” she added quickly. “And Mapper’s.”
“But it’s like you said,” Two Step sighed. “It’s all happening around us whether we like it or not. Look around, Mags. Do you really think you can stop me from being in that situation again, at this point? And it’s not just because we’re here. I mean, it happened in Dactyl Hill, of all places. The one part of this messed-up world where we’re supposed to be safe.” He shook his head. “And anyway, ever since it happened, all I’ve done is replay it over and over in my head and wonder if I could’ve done something differently or should’ve done something different and all I can think is the only way to find out is to be there again, with a gun in my hand and our lives on the line. And then a day like today happens and part of me just wants to …” He clenched his fists and his words trailed off.
“I understand,” Magdalys said. “Kind of.”
“Hey, the dactyls from Brooklyn girl!” a voice said from behind them. “You looking for your friend?” It was Dr. Pennbroker, now out of his surgeon’s coat and wearing a regular dark blue Union Army uniform. They’d walked right past the medical caravan without realizing it.
“Am I ever,” Magdalys mumbled.
The surgeon waved them over. “He’s right over here. Should be good to go!”
Two Step cocked his head, still in the middle of his storm of emotions, and then stumbled after Magdalys with a curious pout on his face.
Dr. Pennbroker was a tall, thin man with well-trimmed sideburns and an elegant goatee. He flashed a wide smile at Magdalys and Two Step as he ushered them forward amidst the marching dinos. “This is Dr. Pennbroker, the surgeon who was taking care of my dactyl,” Magdalys said. “And Dr. Pennbroker, this is my friend Two Step.”
“Whoa!” Two Step said, all traces of anger gone. “A black US Army surgeon!”
Dr. Pennbroker chuckled. “Yeah, I get a lot of that. There are about eight of us total; four here with the Army of the Cumberland alone.”
“They only let them work on dinos and black soldiers,” Magdalys said.
“Technically,” she and Dr. Pennbroker added together, both smirking.
“Whoa whoa whoa,” Two Step said as his eyes kept getting wider and wider. “I had no idea!”
“Join the club,” Magdalys said. “And he knows Dr. Sloan.”
Two Step looked like his head might explode. “WHAT? The Dinoguide guy? You know him?!”
“You could say we go way back,” Dr. Pennbroker snickered. “Anyway, here’s your dactyl, good as new.” He nodded at a wagon being dragged behind a grumbling stego. The dactyl’s light blue snout poked up over the side of the wagon, then his whole head. His eyes widened at Magdalys and then Dizz flapped up into the air, landing unsteadily on top of the stego’s back.
“Dizz!” Magdalys yelled, running over.
The stego gave a howl of disapproval and reared up. Dizz hopped from leg to leg a few times with what almost sounded like a snicker and then jumped off as the stego’s front legs came back down. The dactyl landed in front of Magdalys. He crouched forward toward her, snapping playfully, and she wrapped her arms around his slender neck and squeezed. Around them, Dr. Pennbroker and Two Step chatted and the stomp of soldiers and dinos churned on. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered. “Thank you for saving my life.”
Dizz unfurled his wings and straightened, lifting Magdalys off the ground. She laughed and pulled herself over his shoulder so she straddled his back as he flapped once, twice, then perched on a wagon next to Dr. Pennbroker.
“Hey, big guy,” the surgeon said, amiably stepping out of snapping range. “Tell you what, how bout we do a switch-off, Miss Magdalys? You get your dactyl back, and me and the fellas need another set of hands in the medical tent, and your friend here just volunteered to help out. Sound like a plan?”
Magdalys blinked at Two Step. He nodded, his gaze still on the surgeon.
“Sounds like an excellent plan,” Magdalys said.
“Be careful out there,” Dr. Pennbroker said.
Two Step glanced at her, anger roiling beneath his tight face, then looked away.
Magdalys opened her mouth but realized she didn’t know what to say.
Dizz swung his head around, squawked once, and then hunched low on his knees, preparing to take off. “You be careful too,” Magdalys called as Two Step and Dr. Pennbroker and the medical caravan got smaller and smaller beneath her.
MAGDALYS SHOOK OFF the recurring image of Two Step’s parting scowl as she surged over the Appalachian treetops on Dizz, Hannibal laughing and howling in the wind behind her and holding on for dear life.
Another haunting to add to her ghost collection. It consisted of both the living and the dead, a nonstop carousel of the missing, the wounded, the silent, the murdered; it was always available to trouble her idle moments or sleepless nights.
Still: the setting sun splashed sharp orange streaks across the comely magentas and darkening blues of the western sky ahead of them, and sent the long shadows of the four dactyls rippling along the dark green forest below.
“I see the joy of flying hasn’t worn off yet,” Magdalys said when Hannibal paused to catch his breath. They’d rustled up some saddles from the mounted raptor units and adjusted them to fit the dactyls, and it did make flying much more comfortable.
“Man!” he panted. “And I hope it never will! This is the most amazing thing I’ve ever done!”
“Miss Roca,” Corporal Cailloux called as Amaya pulled their mount alongside Dizz. “Would you kindly inform Private Hannibal that we are on a reconnaissance mission and thus under orders to not alert the entire Confederacy to our presence?”
Hannibal straightened up. “Duly noted, sir!”
Beans flew up on the other side, apparently just so Octave and Mapper could make sure everyone heard them snickering. Grappler soared up ahead, her long beak moving back and forth slowly as she scanned the horizon for trouble.
“How exactly are we supposed to ascertain the whereabouts of this pteranodon?” Cailloux asked. His voice sounded skeptical but not unkind.
“Magdalys,” Hannibal said. “She can do anything.”
It was a small statement — just four words! — but it was one of the best things anyone had ever said about her. She can do anything. Magdalys wanted to make a talisman of it to dangle around her neck and repeat the words in Hannibal’s laughing voice whenever she was afraid. Maybe that would ward off the carousel of ghosts.
“I want you to know, Miss Roca,” Cailloux said, “Private Hannibal rarely has a kind word for anyone, so, though he is a troublemaker, his endorsement carries some weight.”
“I take umbrage, Corporal!” Hannibal said. “But you have a point.”
And maybe Hannibal was right. The gathering storm of Stella’s sweet and lowdown song kept getting louder and fiercer inside Magdalys. Finding her was simply a matter of following the trail of her call. It seemed second nature to Magdalys, but trailing a giant pterosaur through enemy territory would’ve been daunting to pretty much anyone else.
Maybe she could do anything.
“There!” Mapper cried, just as the wail inside Magdalys crescendoed. Something huge crested the mountaintop up ahead, blotting out the sun.
“STELLA GIRL!” Magdalys yelled, and Hannibal let out a wild laugh behind her.
“Remember General Sheridan’s orders,” Corporal Cailloux said as Magdalys veered Stella south and clicks and clacks of the soldiers preparing their weapons filled the air amidst the caterwauling songbirds below. “We’re not to engage the enemy. We’re not to fly directly over the battlefield. We’re definitely not to get shot down. Clear?”
“Sir, yes sir!” Octave, Hannibal, and Mapper yelled in unison. Amaya just nodded.
“Everyone have their security belts secured to both themselves and the saddle?” Cailloux yelled.
“Sir, yes sir!” everyone responded. The corporal had insisted on some security measure in case Stella tipped suddenly, and Magdalys had been glad they’d had the belts handy, although they’d given up sleeping with them attached a couple days out from Brooklyn.
“The Chickamauga heads away from the Tennessee River just north of Chattanooga,” said Mapper. Magdalys felt a momentary panic: Mapper was just some kid to these soldiers, not the geographic wunderkind she knew him to be. Who was he to lecture them about geography? But no one chided him or cut him off; they just nodded and waited for him to go on. She breathed a tiny sigh of relief and turned back to the rising and falling peaks around them.
“It runs along the side of Missionary Ridge,” Mapper went on, “which should be that high up plateau up ahead.”
“So we’re in Georgia?” Cailloux asked.
“Probably just crossed into it, yeah,” Mapper said, squinting at the imaginary maps imprinted across his brain and then nodding.
“This kid’s good to have around,” Octave said.
“How do you think we’ve made it this far,” Amaya said with a giggle. Magdalys peeked back again. Amaya never giggled.
“Uh, thanks,” Mapper said, looking wildly uncomfortable, the goofiness of his grin turned all the way up to ten.
“I hate to break up the lovefest,” Hannibal said, and at the sound of worry in his voice, Magdalys immediately scanned the tree line ahead for signs of trouble, “but y’all hear that?”
Everyone got quiet. Then she saw it: A plume of smoke rose above the trees into the darkening sky.
“I don’t hear no—” Mapper started to say, but a low rumble cut him off, then light flashed across the clouds up ahead and a crack ripped out, followed by a ghostly, shuddering afterblast that seemed to flush across the valley toward them.
“Artillery,” Octave said. “The battle’s already begun.”
A gnawing, sinking feeling crept over Magdalys from the inside. They were too late; that was all she could think. But for what, she didn’t know. It’s not like they had any ability to stop the fighting or turn the tide. Sheridan was already marching as fast as his men and dinos could travel for the battlefront. There was nothing more to do except find out whatever they could, and maybe that was the worst part.
“Stay low,” Cailloux said, snapping Magdalys out of her thoughts. “We don’t need any of their air cavalry spotting us.” More lights flashed across the sky as the rumbling continued at a steady drone, and then the sharp reports of each bursting shell reached them. The sound of death raining down from above, Magdalys thought, veering Stella into a smooth glide just over the treetops.
“Octave, Hannibal,” Cailloux ordered. “Hop on dactyls with one of the kids and head in opposite directions. See if you can get the scope of the battlefield and a sense of the enemy numbers.”
“Yes, sir!” the two men hollered with a salute. Beans and Grappler were already flapping on either side of Stella; with a quick thought from Magdalys they swung beneath her huge wings. Amaya and Mapper turned to her, and it struck her again that without meaning to or even so much as a vote of confidence, she’d somehow become the commanding officer of this strange, tiny army they’d formed back in Dactyl Hill, Brooklyn. She nodded her approval and Mapper climbed on Beans, Amaya on Grappler, the soldiers mounting up behind them, and they swooshed silently off into the war-torn skies.
“IT’S TERRIFYING, ISN’T it?” Corporal Cailloux said.
Magdalys realized he was watching her as she stared off after the dactyls. She shook her head, somehow smiled. “Which part?”
Cailloux chuckled. “I mean, all of it, of course, but especially this part. Sending men off to what may be their death. Or kids, in this case. Even worse.”
Magdalys nodded. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t given the order and didn’t hold any rank to speak of; he’d seen the mark of leadership, the deference they paid her, and he knew what it meant, that it mattered more than any chain of command. If something bad should happen to any of them, Magdalys would carry it with her. “How do you … how do you deal with it?”
Cailloux scowled, eyebrows raised, and made a vague circle with one hand. “I remind myself that this is what they came here for, that this is what we fought for, in fact, and what we’re still fighting for: to be able to fight, and maybe die, for a cause we believe in.” He paused, his mouth still shoved all the way to one side of his face in a lopsided frown. “Freedom.”
For a few moments, they watched the shells paint sudden bursts across the violet-streaked sky. Then Cailloux shouted in a hoarse whisper: “Veer left!”
Magdalys ducked without knowing why and pulled Stella into a sharp curve. “What?” she asked quietly.
“There’s a camp right below us,” Cailloux said. “Can’t tell if it’s ours or theirs but I just saw the fires between the trees. Keep veering and take us around closer to the fighting; I don’t think they spotted us or we’d have heard shooting by now.”
Either side would probably start taking potshots at them, Magdalys realized — there was nothing to mark them as being on one side or the other from below, and anything flying directly above an encampment would probably be presumed an enemy.
Musket fire crackled from the battlefield now, an ongoing barrage that meant countless men were crumbling beneath its onslaught on either side. Magdalys saw the trees light up ahead and more artillery shells crashed through the night.
“We’re close,” Cailloux whispered, more to himself than Magdalys. “Very close.” Then sharply: “Left!” as the whole raging battlefield suddenly opened up beneath them. Men burst out of the trees amidst the muskets’ never-ending pop and crackle. Other men charged forward toward them; it was too dark to make out what color anyone’s uniform was. Men screamed, crumpled, muskets cracked, artillery boomed. Torches and bonfires punctuated the otherwise dark field.
“Those are the skirmishers,” Cailloux explained as they veered low along the edge of the woods. “Infantry. Each side is testing the strength of the other’s front lines.”
Testing. It seemed like such a sad thing to die in the service of: a test. But Magdalys knew much bigger stakes loomed behind each tiny movement.
“When they find a weak spot, that’s when you’ll see … there!” A low rumble sounded now, even deeper than the artillery cannons: trikes on the move. Many, many trikes, Magdalys realized, gazing at the sudden rush of movement below. The dinoriders guided their mounts in a thundering charge straight into a collected mass of foot soldiers. It would be a massacre, Magdalys thought, but the infantry fell away in perfect unison just before the trikes reached them, and it was a snarling brigade of raptor riders that took their place.
“Those are our boys,” Cailloux said with pride. “General Thomas’s 7th Mounted Raptor Squad.”
