Starvation Ridge: Bright in the Skies -- Chapter Three

Mullins strode along beside Lacey. "These things do check out. There are definitely people in that list'nin post up there; been watchin' us for days. An' the burnt-out tower matches Wolf's description."

    Lacey did not break his stride, nor did his taciturn expression change. "Yes."

    Mullins looked him over appraisingly. "Why do I get th' feelin' you're holdin' stuff out on me? You guys saddle up, ride around, gone overnight, come back, throw us a sack of venison, we ask for a report, you shrug and say "this is the place."

    "We cannot go very near without giving away too much concerning ourselves. We have approached them at night, and we have seen they are vigilant. This can be a dangerous venture."

    "Well, and here y'are, walking right at 'em w'me, unarmed, with a white 'flag.' Y'don't look worried."

    "They have much at stake. They are on their own ground and have, we think, prepared positions. They could have attacked my scouts, and have not done so. They will parley. Will you?"

    "Well, sure, fer starters. Might learn somethin'. Hell, maybe we could get ourselves invited in."

"This is the bridge. We are now being watched. If we stay here, I think, no one will come out. But if we go forward, you will be hailed."

    "Well, okay, let's go do that and see."

    They moved along what was now clearly a road that had been kept open. Mullins was not an experienced woodsman; nevertheless he began to sense, as Lacey had for some time, watchfulness. As they neared a heap of brush cuttings, sure enough, a man stood out from a copse of hemlocks in the near distance.

    "Stop right there, please."

    Mullins studied him. Tall, broad-shouldered, apparently short hair and beard; hard to tell as his face was shadowed by a wide-brimmed coolie hat of some kind. Dressed in leather, it looked like; with a broad belt. And was that a sword tucked in the belt? What were these people playing at around here?

    The stranger said nothing more, but waited, in a posture both alert and relaxed.

    Mullins spoke, keeping his voice low and his eyes on the man. "Whaddya think of him?"

    "Wave the flag."

    "Oh, yeah." Mullins did so. The local made no sign or move.

    "This man is experienced and confident. There are others with him, and they will be armed. We are already within range. They have done this before."

    "Tell me stuff I don't already know."

    "They are hungry. Things have not gone well with them. This man has been losing weight for some time. He may also, I think, be recovering from a wound or injury."

    "Well, that's information."

    Clearly, the stranger was willing to stand in the early fall sunlight all day without speaking.

    Mullins cleared his throat. "We, we come in peace for all mankind."

    The tall man cocked his head. "Heard that one before somewhere. Y'all got a lotta nice gear out there in th' woods. Not much of it's peace-y lookin."

    "Travel is unsafe, y'know. We're the, we're the Yew Ess Army an' we're puttin' th' country back together. Goin' up an' down makin' folks aware the goverment's back in operation."

    "That's nice."

    Mullins waited for more, perhaps a rebuttal, but the man just kept right on standing there. 
    "Well, uh, can we parley, get some communications set up, explain th' laws an' get a representative an' all that? You c'n be your own county."

    The man smiled briefly, then appeared to be studying the sky.

    "Uh, tell ya what." Mullins set the end of his sapling flagpole on the ground. "We got food. Meals Ready to Eat. Salt. We got salt. If yeh've fallen on hard times, could bring th' trucks in, give ever'body a square meal. Show ever'body we're on th' level, an' all. What say?"

    The man studied the ground, then the sky again, and then looked at Lacey for moment, then Mullins. "Your friend there got a tongue?"

    "I speak for myself, yes," said Lacey, stepping forward.

    "You two are from different outfits. Your pal there, I've seen his kind before. How come y'are doing his dirty work, sniffin' around us all night?"

    "It is good to know something of one's surroundings."

    "Yeah-h-h, guess it is. Listen –" he returned his attention to Mullins. "– best thing to do, pass on by an' act like y'never been here. Get your government set up, build some towns, do some agriculture. We'll talk some more in a couple years, 'k?" He turned to go.

    "Well, hey, wait up!" But Mullins could see the interview was over. The stranger did not break stride, but disappeared behind the hemlocks.

    Lacey turned to Mullins. "There is nothing more to do here at this time."

    "Y'think maybe I shoulda asked him direct 'bout th' power plant?"

    "No." Lacey turned away and began walking back past the bridge.


    Mullins, perforce, joined him. "Do y'suppose they even have one?"

    "Yes."

    "How do you know?"

    Lacey stopped and regarded him. "One of my men may have overheard a conversation."

    "Overh –" but Lacey had moved on again. Mullins trotted after him. "You are holding something back."

    Lockerby appeared in the middle distance, rising from a patch of horsetails near the small river, with the Ay-Kay in hand.

    "How'd it go, Mullo?" he called out softly.

    "Tell ya in a bit." Mullins addressed himself to the striding tribal leader. "Look, we got a deal or don't we?"

    "The Prinevilles carry out their agreements. I will tell you what I have heard but not how I heard it; as that is not in the agreement. There are not as many people as we were told. They are, however, clever in matters of farming, manufacture, defense. Yes, they have power. Yes, it is 'nuclear.' For many years they did not even know it was there. No, they will not negotiate; they believe they know who you are; it is only a guess, but in part they have guessed correctly, and they will not believe a cover story. They will resist any move on our part to occupy the mountain." He gestured toward Starvation Ridge.

    By this time they had reached Lockerby.

    Mullins turned toward Lacey again. "All right; ya don't wanna divulge your sources. Why'd ya go through that charade with me?"

    "I wished to see this man. I believed he would show himself. He will be a worthy adversary for us; and his name is Wilson."

    "His name is Wilson. Well, Mr. Walkin' Incylepeedya Lacey, I'm not sure I trust ya now as far as I can throw ya; but I'm glad ya said us and I hope I c'n hold ya to it. Lockie!"

    "Mullo."

    "How long till the Cat could get up here?"

    "To right here? Be about three hours."

    "From where they are now, can th' cannon hit this area?" Mullin's gesture took in the woods around the rusted steel bridge.

    "Mmm, yeah, an' the hilltops too; not much further. But there's no target we c'n be sure of hittin' square from way out there, or even from here; 'cept that." Lockerby pointed to the lookout on Ball Butte.

    "Yeah, 'n it's a low-trajectory gun. I knew we'd rather be havin' a howitzer out here, or mortars. We can either bust through here to where th' LAV can see what it's doin', or take it up onto high ground. Mr. Lacey?"

    "Yes?" The chief regarded Mullins impassively.
    "You fellas have clearly looked – and listened – a lot; c'n the Cat get up there?" He pointed to Ball Butte.

    "It is steep, except from the back."

    Lockerby squinted at the hill. "They can see anything we do from there; if we could haul the LAV up there we can cover the whole valley. But they'll have thought of that. I like the other one better." He indicated Starvation Ridge.

    "Ah, hell, Lockie, that one's just as bad."

    "Only from here. We could drive up on it from the south, pretty easy."

    "An' fight ever' inch of th' way. Mr. Lacey, th' man said "keep goin', didn't he? How about we all pass 'em by, in full view, 'n let 'em watch us do it, then come back and hit that lookout at dawn – from th' north. Give 'em time to relax – say, about a week."

    Lacey considered. "It seems good. But they would want to confirm our departure, and their scouts would trail the column. My men could make sure they would not return to report, but this will alert their people. Also, there would be no cover of darkness. In one week, there will be a full moon." He pointed to the half moon, already hanging in the late afternoon sky above the ridge.

    "Well, then, whaddya suggest?"

    "Let us divide our forces. Take the column south, in full view. Turn back on the third night and assault the Starvation Ridge. Darkness will fall, four hands before daylight. By sunrise, you can be well up the mountain, and your weapon will be able to cover you there."

    "Uh huh, and what will your crowd be up to?" 

    "At midnight, we will take the lookout and make fire and noise. This will be to draw the attention of all the farmers, giving you time to make your ascent."

    "A feint. I like it, Mr. Lacey, except what's to keep you from giving us the slip?" Mullins made a sign behind his back, and Lockerby stepped away, as if to pick a horsetail from the sand.

    "We are a people of our word." Lacy braced himself, perhaps to leap upon Mullins and shield himself from Lockerby, but it was clearly too late; Mullins, too, was stepping away. The muzzle of the rifle came up and pointed itself toward the Eastsider's broad chest.

    "Well, Mr. Lacey, we are a people of guarantees. I do like your suggestion, but I will amend it. You'll tell your folks to have a go at th' little mountain behind us, on schedule. But you yourself will go with us."

:::

Wilson strode up from Hall bridge to the Mess Hall, giving the password to the young sentry as he came on. In his haste he forgot the counter word, and the child, one of the "grenadiers" who had served with Emilio Molinero in the New Moon War, was much too much in awe of Wilson to remind him.

    Though it was already late in the day, Wilson had to pause for a moment as he entered Hall; the contrast in light, even in what must surely be September, was striking. Hall had been a sawmill or planing mill at one time, and had relied in those days upon powerful incandescent light bulbs for its workers to see by. Wilson wondered that it had occurred to no one to hook up the building, which was in constant use, to the power from Ridge; as it was, two cadres were grouped around windows. One crew was washing sunchokes from a largish pile in a washtub, gossiping among themselves; the other was clustered around his wife, Billee, who was putting them through dry-snap exercises with an array of antique twenty-twos. Dud, or dummy, rounds that had somehow been painted blue were scattered on the table.

     "Hi, Cap'n," said one. Billee looked up and, spying him, beamed.

    "Y'ah go right ahead with what you're doing there," said Wilson, forcing an expansive smile. "Gonna make a phone call." He continued on toward the cellar door.

    Billee delegated the class to a relatively experienced young woman to her left – another of the grenadiers – and followed him.

    In the command post, Wilson found Selk kneeling before the telephone desk, working by lamplight. "Good afternoon, Mr. Selk," he boomed, giving himself the guilty pleasure of watching the hunched figure jump. "I do hope your presence here does not mean that communications are down."

    Selk tucked his chin into his shoulder and peered round over the top of his glasses. "N-no, Mr. Wilson, I've hooked in here – " he held up the ends of two wires " – and we'll run a line out to Bridge; we're giving them your handset, though, so you'll have to make do for now with these." He set down the wires and held up a pair of headphones in one hand. In the other, he displayed what looked like a brass disk with two tiny, toothy long-snouted clips attached.

    Wilson reached out and took them, gingerly. "What the hell?"

    "Here, sit down, let me. These go over your ears, like this, and you hold this – When you want to talk, clip one of these on the lead, here, like this." He demonstrated. "Then, you want to listen, unclip. See?"

    "I don't see. Does the doorbell still work the same?"

    "It does, but never mind that; they're already talking."

    "I don't hear anythin'."

    Selk compressed his lips. "Sorry, impedance doesn't match. But some sound does carry if you're quiet."

    "Yeah, yeah. Hush up yourself, then."

    Billee, who had come in right behind Wilson, grabbed a cup, poured some water into it from a jug, added vodka from a spare lamp, and set it before Wilson, who picked it up without missing a beat.

    Billee gave Selk an accusing look. "You were eavesdropping," she whispered.

    "Wouldn't you?" he whispered back. "I'm out of here; got wires to spool out." True to his word, Selk picked up a small wooden spool mounted on a broomstick, and walked backwards out of the room, unreeling spliced lamp cord.

:::

Ellen Murchison held the handset away from her ear and winced, then pressed the button. Click. "Wilson, are you there? We're hearing the awfullest clicking and sputtering. Over." Click.

    Static, then, "Yeah, s'me. Uh, th'techie has made a mess down here. Can you hear me? Uh, over." Scratch.

    Click. "Yes, but why are you shouting? Over." Click.

    Screech. "Sorry, the things on my ears, I can hardly hear ya, this other thing must work better." Hiss. 

    Click. "We'll take that line noise to mean 'over.' So, what happened out at Bridge? Over." Click.

    Click. "I'm here, too, Wilson." Avery's voice. "Over." Click.

    Crackle. "How much did y'all see? Uh, over." Buzz.

    Click. "From here, everything," said Ellen. "Still lots to see. And we're relaying it all to Avery, of course. Over." Click.

    Sizz. "Well, th' short guy is in charge, but he doesn't answer to th' description of th' guy that was here before. I think he's th' expedition'ry leader. Th' tall guy with th' pigtails is interestin'. I'd say he knows more what he's about, but is deferring to th' little one like he's on contract to 'im. Can't see 'em gettin' along. ... Oh. Uh-h-h, over." Bzzt.

    Ellen held the handset away from her head. "Neel, how's it look?"

    Neel, one of her young charges, pulled himself away from the spotting telescope. It had arrived that morning, and he had been joyfully glued to it all day.

    "Still headed for the trucks, ma'am." 

    Click. "Wilson, after you left, they went back beyond Bridge and another short man with a rifle joined them. I'd swear it was an AK, like before. There was what looked like an amicable conference, then suddenly they took the tall man prisoner and away they all went, with the rifle at his back. Over." Click. 

    Pause. Another crackle, then Wilson whistling. "Wow, com-pli-cat-ed." Another pause. "So, anyway. This tall guy, I think he looked at me like you do when you've seen somebody before." Pause. "Oh, over, arready." Fzzt.

    Avery clicked in. "From these tidbits, I think we're looking at two groups that barely get along. It's a treaty of some kind. The LAV, the trucks and things, that's the Volunteers. And the guy they're holding is probably the leader of an auxiliary force. He's insurance. Sure you haven't seen horses? Over." Click.

    Hsst. "No, but that doesn't mean they don't have them. That look that guy gave me? I think he's got the Bledsoes."

    "Hunh," said Ellen to the stone walls. Neel swung round from the scope, and Elberd looked up from his own business, a half-plucked blackbird he had netted. She looked at their cheery, hopeful faces. 

Damn. So young, too.

(To be continued)