Stranger, page 14
The watching Horse Soldiers cheered. “Yeah.”
A catapult operator careened over, landing thirty feet beyond, broken and bloodied. Another hollow boom echoed over the fields.
“Move it,” Harbaugh yelled.
The crew hastily loaded a bomb and slewed the catapult slightly to one side. Its bomb ripped out more fence.
Without warning, the catapult shattered into a shower of splinters, killing three of its crew instantly. Three more lay on the ground, screaming.
Harbaugh lay moaning on the ground, his head bloodied.
“Battle group,” Grant yelled. “Mount up, prepare to advance.”
It wasn’t supposed to go like this. The Fed were a bunch of farmers; they couldn’t build wire fences with weird powers or destroy catapults from great distances.
“Clan. Clan,” the soldiers chanted as they picked their way through the broken gate and formed a column.
“Bows at the ready.” The Horse Soldiers held the nocked arrows with one hand and reins in the other.
“For the honor of the Clan,” Grant shouted.
“Clan. Clan.”
“Forward, hah,” Grant yelled.
The column trotted onward and the leading ranks broke into a gallop directly toward the section of the wire fence that was down. Foot archers swarmed through the gate and lofted arrows at where the Fed guard had last been seen. The soldiers slowed to avoid the shallow bomb holes and bodies of the dead and dying horses and men near the fence.
The first few horsemen passed cleanly through the wire fence, but a horse stumbled and fell, slowing them. More arrived, bunching up at the passage through the wire fence.
Without warning, something violent and bloody cut a swath through the Horse Soldiers milling at the fence. A narrow column of horses and men collapsed into a mass of shattered bodies.
“Come on, you bastards, let’s go,” Grant yelled.
He lashed out with his riding crop, pushing the Horse Soldiers forward. Grant’s face was bright red. “Move it.” Flecks of white spittle dotted his mouth. He spurred his horse and took the lead through the fence. The column of Clan Horse Soldiers moved forward again.
A row of Fed guards emerged out of the ground, guns leveled.
The leading edge of the Horse Soldiers got off a single volley of arrows. The bristling line of Fed guns erupted into a rolling volley. The Horse Soldiers in the front row collapsed under a sleeting storm of lead.
The Fed guards sank back into the ground as more emerged. Their guns fired, starting at one end of the line. A wave of fire and smoke rippled along the line of steel like a gigantic drum roll.
A large caliber lead ball struck Grant in the middle of his chest, lifting him out of his saddle. He toppled headfirst into the sodden ground, limp and lifeless. Men and horses tangled together. A mass of flesh and mud clogged the fence opening. The formation collapsed as horses and men fell, trampled underfoot. Grant was there, a part of the flotsam of broken and bleeding flesh, now anonymous in the debris of war.
Without leadership, the remaining Horse Soldiers turned and retreated through the broken gate, carrying wounded or horseless comrades. Over half their force remained on the ground behind them.
Todd Sinkton heard the battle from his position of rear-guard. So few Horse Soldiers came back through the broken east gate that he went forward to see where the rest were. One glance told him the story.
The uninjured Horse Soldiers made litters and stretchers for their wounded; it was time to leave. A group of mounted soldiers established a screen around the walking wounded and those on stretchers.
“I thought riding a long distance was a pain in the ass,” Todd grumbled without any real rancor. “Carrying this friggin’ stretcher is an even bigger pain in the ass.” It was his turn on the stretchers. They kept moving.
The news of the defeat reached Maumee Harbor by mounted courier well before the remnants of the expedition arrived. Less than two hundred soldiers returned out of the six hundred.
Elroy Stanek sent word to the Council of Elders. News of the defeat spread like wildfire throughout the Hill.
Did the Midwest Federation have pre-Collapse weapons?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Your guards fought well,” Billy said.
“Thank you.” Captain Kerr turned to watch the townspeople arrive and move onto the battlefield. They began cutting the throats of the wounded Clan Warriors and stripping them of their possessions. It was the normal practice of war.
Billy grabbed Captain Kerr’s sleeve. “Stop that,” he said. “Take them to the hospital.”
“Who?” Kerr stared at him.
“The wounded. All of them.”
“Even those from the Clan?” Kerr frowned.
“Yes, the Clan soldiers, too.”
Kerr said. “But—”
“You refuse to do as I say?” Billy raised his hand and pointed it at Kerr.
Kerr flinched. “No.” He beckoned a group of Fed guards and gave them orders. The guards moved quickly and began to provide help to the injured.
“Those men will provide information about the Clan. Question them.” Billy stared with unblinking eyes. “They can teach your guards how to ride. With horse-mounted guards, you will have a better army. Always be willing to learn from your enemy. Remember, they will not always be your enemies.”
“Er, sir.” Kerr’s eyebrows rose. “You want a horse-mounted guard unit? Guards on horses?” His voice rose slightly. “What d’you mean about them not always being enemies? The Clan has been our enemy for as long as I can remember.”
“If you had guards on horses today, your victory would have been total.” Billy cocked his head. Across the river, in Defiance, came the sound of cheering. “What is that noise?”
“Er, sir.” Kerr was unsure of how to explain the situation. “It’s a celebration. Our victory came on an old pre-Collapse holiday called Independence Day. We haven’t had much to cheer about for a long time, but today, we do. If I had to make a guess, there’ll be a party in town tonight. You should join them. It ought to be a lot of fun and we owe this victory to you.”
“Maintain a contingent of guards on the perimeter until the fence is repaired.” Billy said. “We must not let our defenses down. We are still vulnerable to an attack.”
“Er, sir.” Kerr knew this would be difficult. “I don’t think the Clan will be back any time soon. Our scouts report they’re on their way to their fort on the mouth of the Maumee. They’re in no condition to attack Defiance after what we did to them. We’ve already repaired the wire fence. What if it’s connected to the generators before nightfall—?”
“Yes. Do that. Guards must be on duty at all times.” Billy’s voice sounded harsh. “This victory means nothing. More important to make castings.”
There he goes again about those damn castings, Kerr thought. I’ll put guards on duty tonight, but not a full contingent. I’ve got to live with these men. Denying them leave after today’s victory would really piss them off. Now, he thought, who’re going to be the lucky volunteers?
“Here’s a toast to Billy, our fearless leader.” Chip Wilson burped and raised a glass of beer. He sat with his fellow workers at a picnic table under a leafy silver maple tree overlooking the confluence of the Auglaize and Maumee Rivers.
Nearby, vendors sold food and drink from carts to the people who’d come to the park for the concert and Independence Day bonfire. Word of the victory had spread far and wide, bringing people in from outlying communities. Many drank and gossiped, celebrating the holiday and victory.
“I wonder what Billy is doing tonight?” Chip wiped foam from his lips. “I bet he’s still working.”
Joyce Vargas sat across from him at the scarred table. “He’s always so serious.” Joyce nodded. “He really does need to lighten up.” She played with her glass of beer.
Joyce was a small woman with dark flashing eyes and strong features. She had high cheekbones, a prominent nose, and full lips. Her face was long with a trace of gauntness in her cheeks. Her dark red hair, almost mahogany-colored, was set off by her clear complexion. She got her coloring from her English mother and her features from her Mexican father. Her quick intelligence and sharp tongue put off many men.
“Sure, Joyce.” Freddy Crosby giggled. “You’re just the one to help him out of his shell. Right?”
Joyce ignored his comment. “Really, does Billy have a woman? I mean is there anyone he sees?”
Her father had taught electrical engineering at the Ohio State University. During the Collapse, he’d fled north with his wife and daughter. Joyce had learned about electricity from him and had joined the electrical repair shop as soon as Billy had opened it. There she learned all she could about switch-gear and generating electricity. No one could add much to what she already knew except Billy, who patiently answered her questions.
Chip shrugged.
“He could have any woman,” Joyce said. “He’s our leader.”
“Naw, Joyce, Billy’s saving himself for just the right woman.” Freddy hiccupped. “Someone who’ll love him for ’is personality.” His words were slurred.
Joyce glanced at him and said nothing. Freddy was closer to the truth than he realized.
Men in positions of power fascinated her. She’d found out leaders were smart, had strong drives, and were capable of anything. Billy was a fascinating enigma, the strange little man who had deposed Old Vic. He has done so much for us, he deserves some attention, she thought. And I’m going to be the one.
“Oh, be quiet,” Cora, Chip’s wife said. “That’s uncalled for. Billy’s a good leader.” She put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. It was a signal.
“My, ’tis getting late.” Chip glanced up at a dark sky filled with stars. “I believe Billy has a full day planned for us tomorrow.”
A few flames still flickered from the bonfire, but most of the partiers had drifted away.
“Well,” Freddy said. “It’s time for me, too.” He drained the last of the beer from his glass and gave it to his wife, who put it into her bag. “See you.”
Joyce remained seated as the two couples left. There was a group of guards nearby who kept glancing in her direction. Once she had gone with one such group and after a night of drinking, they’d taken advantage of her drunken state. She was sore for a week. Never again, she thought. Bastards. Sure, there were tough farm girls who bragged about how many men they’d had in an evening, but that’s not for me.
Well, she thought. It’s time. She made her way to Billy’s quarters. As she did, she loosened the top buttons of her blouse. Tonight’s the night, she thought. Her heart started to beat faster.
At the door to Billy’s room, Joyce paused. “Billy,” she called. “Are you there?”
“Come in,” Billy said. “The door is open.” Though the room was warm, he still had his ever-present cloak wrapped about him as he lay on his bed. His hand pointed directly toward her.
Joyce felt a flush bloom. She took a deep breath. “Billy, it’s me, Joyce,” she said. “I’ve wanted to come and see you for a long time. I think it’s time that we got to know each other—better.” She stopped at Billy’s side.
Billy lowered his hand, but remained still, saying nothing.
Joyce smiled, pursed her lips, and blew him a kiss. Why is it, she thought, the powerful ones are ugly? Here goes.
Billy did not respond.
She ran her hands up her midriff, forcing her breasts up and out. “Did I surprise you, Billy-honey? Tonight, I’m going to be the best surprise you’ve ever had. Do you like what you see? Would you like to see more?” Joyce moved her hands to her blouse and slowly undid the remaining buttons, releasing her breasts. While she did, she watched him and smiled.
Billy did not move. His expression remained frozen.
“I’m not here to tease you, I’m here to have a good time with you.” Joyce unbuckled her belt and then unsnapped the front of her skirt. She leaned forward, hooked her thumbs into the top of the skirt on both sides of her hips. With one motion, she slid her skirt and panties down to the floor and stepped out of it.
“Billy, you and me are going to have a great time tonight,” Joyce’s voice was low. “Come on, Billy, move over and let me into bed.”
Billy lay on the bed, unmoving, staring at her.
“Are you waiting for me to come to you?” As she spoke, she clambered onto the bed and straddled Billy with her knees. She leaned forward. “Sure, Billy-honey, all for you. Come on, baby.” Watching him, she lowered her breasts until they almost touched his lips.
Billy sat up quickly.
Joyce put her arms around his neck, smiled, closed her eyes, and tried to kiss him.
Billy ducked under her arms and with an almost impossibly quick motion, wriggled out from between her legs. He almost fell to the floor and stood up with a hop.
“What’s the matter?” Joyce asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Joyce,” Billy said. “I cannot couple with you.” He seemed to have difficulty speaking. “You are different.”
His words didn’t make any sense. “What’s wrong, Billy? Did I say something wrong?” Joyce pouted as she knelt on the bed and held her hands out toward him. She opened her mouth wide and slowly ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, then pursed her lips. “Come on, Billy, please, I want you now.” She beckoned with her hands for him to come to her.
Billy just stood and stared at her.
In that instant, Joyce realized it wasn’t the hungry look of an ineffectual voyeur. It was the look of someone examining a piece of equipment.
Joyce felt a chill.
Something was wrong—he wasn’t responding the way he should.
It wasn’t going to happen.
Billy picked up her skirt and handed it to her. “Put on your garment.” His voice was loud and harsh. “Explain your behavior.”
Oh, my God, she thought. I’ve done something wrong. Sexual arousal and desire drained away. Fear ran down her spine. Billy was, she knew, their absolute, total leader. He could kill her without penalty.
Joyce pulled on her skirt and buttoned her blouse. She had come with the best of intentions, trying to be nice to him. Now, he was like a stern priest, making her feel guilty as though she’d committed a sin.
“Why did you come here?” Billy’s voice was harsh. “What for?”
Joyce froze. Questions like that were trouble. The memory of Old Vic killing her friend, Patty, for giggling at the wrong time, came back. “Billy, there’s something special about you. You answer my questions. You pay attention to me. You treat me with respect. I can’t help it, I like you,” she said, almost babbling. “You’re our leader, you’re powerful. You’ve done so much for us. You’ve made us rich and you’ve just given us a great victory.”
Joyce wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sniffled. “All of us, the whole community, are celebrating, but you aren’t. You’re here by yourself, all alone. I wanted you to know how much you mean to me, to all of us.” Words came out, even though she wasn’t sure of what she was saying.
Billy stared at her. He stood a little straighter, lowered his head slightly, but said nothing.
“It didn’t seem right to me. We were having fun and you weren’t. I mean you deserve to have fun, too. You work so hard and ask so little of us. I guess I went a little crazy. I came here to be with you. I’ve wanted to be with you for a long time, but I was afraid to tell you. You’ve done so much for me, for all of us, the whole community.” Joyce swallowed and looked up at him.
“It was the only way I knew to show you how special you are to me.” Her words came out in a rush. Tears welled up. “I’m sorry, please forgive me, I mean no harm, please don’t kill me.” She sank to the floor, lowered her eyes, and clasped her hands. “Please.”
“Joyce.” Billy hesitated. “You say nice things about me.” His head swiveled to stare down at her. “It would not be right for me to couple with you. We are different, not the same. So it is not possible.”
“But, but,” Joyce said, “I don’t care if we’re different—”
“We are different,” Billy said. His words came out loud and harsh. “Not possible.”
Joyce flinched. “Please don’t hurt me.”
“I will not hurt you,” Billy said. “You are the only one who comes to tell me how your people feel.”
The silence grew.
He grasped her hand, raising her from the floor. “I have an obligation to respond to you, message-bearer of the community’s recognition.” He touched the tips of his hands together and bobbed his head. “It is an honor to move closer to the center of your community. I will do my all to justify the recognition given by your community. I am pleased to be in this community. Thank you, message-bearer.” He bobbed his head again.
Joyce felt whipsawed and emotionally drained. She had gone from arousal to fear. Now he was thanking her. His behavior was almost like a gentleman in some old-time story.
He isn’t going to punish me. She had the urge to throw her arms around him, to hug and squeeze him. That might be a bad move. She still wanted to see him again, sometime.
“Billy, if, I mean, can we really talk sometime?” Joyce lowered her eyes. “It’d be so nice if we could. You see, I really do want to be near you, to be with you.”
Billy stared at her for a moment. “If you do your work, no harm will come to you.” He paused. “As message-bearer of your community,” he said. “You have the right to talk with me.”
After Joyce left, Billy reviewed what had happened. A member of the community had come to him, wanting to couple, as part of their ritual to honor him.
How strange, he thought. Is it even possible for my species to couple with them? Her body has obvious anatomical differences to mine. She told me of the community’s high regard for my efforts and their acceptance.
