Visions (20 page)

Maki shook his head and looked up at her pleadingly. “No, I don’t feel that way about you, Baela. You have intelligence and spirit, and when I’m Keeper I want you at my side. Just you, Baela. Nobody else.”

Suddenly the girl with long legs and budding breasts understood the power she had over the ambitious young man. She put her hands on her hips, and looked down at him seriously. “When you say by your side, you expect that I will lie down with you.”

Maki nodded.

“You expect I will have your children.”

“Yes,” said Maki softly. “Now jump down quickly, and I will catch you. There’s no more time for talk.”

Baela thought—considering her options.

She leapt into the air, and fell into Maki’s outstretched arms.

He caught her with a grunt, holding her for an instant close against his chest, feeling the slender arm around his neck and smelling her sweet breath. He put her down on her feet, but grabbed an arm when she tried to twirl away from him.

“My father’s badly hurt; I have to help him. Let me go!”

“He’s dead, Baela. There’s nothing we can do, now.”

“No! Please!”

“He’s gone, and we have no time to argue. I’ll bring you back when the fighting is over, but now you come with me!”

“Father—” she said, tears running down her face as Maki pulled her away from the huddled form and out of the barn. She stumbled after him, squinting in the sunlight and again hearing the screams of the battle.

They had run only a few steps when the first shots rang out.

Popping sounds. Maki flinched, ducking his head and unslinging his pointing weapon while maintaining a firm grip on Baela’s arm.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Stay close to me, and move quickly.” Maki pulled her close, put an arm around her waist and they trotted towards the bunkhouse which the attackers had still not penetrated, the scene chaotic as warriors stumbled around and fell, one breaking away and running towards them, the popping sounds continuing. When he was a few feet away, a red hole appeared in his forehead, and then his head exploded, showering them with blood and pieces of bone. Baela screamed, and Maki crushed her to him as they ran for their lives.

* * * * * * *

Pete charged down the ridge, a crazy bull looking for something to crush, eyes fixed on the house with attackers already on the porch. He hit the grass and vaulted a fence like an eighteen-year-old, without breaking stride, Jake calling out in vain for him to wait, but again all that existed were the figures on the porch,
his
porch and
his
house, pounding at the window, and then he saw Hidaig swing the big club, heard the window shatter and the first explosion from inside the house. Bernie’s shotgun. She was fighting them—alone. Pete growled in rage, baring his teeth as the shotgun went off again, two, three times, slamming bodies back onto the porch.
They will kill her; they will kill her, then slit her open and kill our child. Because I wasn’t there.

Hidaig was barking orders on the porch, oblivious to the crazy animal charging at him. Another explosion, and then the back door to the house flew open, spilling out women.

“Diana!” called Jake from behind him. “Over here!”

The women ran towards Pete and Jake. One warrior saw them from the porch, starting a chase but freezing in his tracks when he saw Pete coming. Another came around the house, swinging a club and striking one woman to her knees, retreating to the porch as she bounced up flailing at him with a knife in her hand.

Pete saw the mob drag a kicking and screaming woman from the house.
Bernie. Dear God, they’ve got Bernie. My wife—my baby.
She lay in a heap on the ground, surrounded by warriors, and Hidaig was stepping up to her with his club.

Pete screamed a primal sound that came from the pit of his soul. He leveled his rifle waist high and fired, a warrior spinning away from the crowd, holding his side before collapsing on the porch. As he chambered another round a warrior ran towards him, spear raised for a throw, body shuddering and them crumpling to the ground when Jake opened fire. Jake fired again, knocking down another warrior as the group turned and saw them coming. Where was Hidaig now? It was Hidaig he wanted.
I will crush skull, then feed your brains to our child.
But there were no children—yet. His unborn child lay with its mother in the dirt before their home, threatened by beings from another world, who showed no pity.

He
would show no pity.

Pete screamed again, firing as he charged, warriors scattering and falling before him. By the time he reached Bernie the rifle was empty; he threw it to the ground and snatched up a war club. So many years since he’d had such a weapon in his hands, but it felt comfortable and natural, and when the first warrior came at him with a spear he parried delicately, then swung by spinning his entire body, shattering the Tenanken head in an explosion of gore. The three remaining warriors fled around the side of the house as he reached Bernie and knelt beside her, vaguely aware of Jake’s puffing arrival to stand guard behind him.

“I’m here,” he said, panting. “It’s all right, now.”

Her face was bloody and swollen. She rolled over on her back, and held out her arms for him, tears gushing over her face. “Oh, Pete, they’ve hurt the baby. I have a terrible pain inside me, and the baby isn’t kicking. Oh, Pete—our child—”

“It’s all right,” he said. “We’ll take care of you. Relax.” As he spoke, his head swiveled, searching for Hidaig. Jake seemed to read his mind, and knelt beside him.

“The fight’s moved to the bunkhouse, but they can’t get in. You want to find someone, I’ll stay with Bernie, Pete. I’ll take care of her for you.”

I’ve brought them to this. I led them out of the caverns and down here to die. I am responsible for this.
Pete grabbed up the war club, and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Jake reached out to hand him something.

Two sticks of dynamite, and a small box of matches.

“Something for the cause,” said Jake.

Bernie groaned, and clutched at her belly. Jake looked down at her. “If I have to, I’ll die for her, Pete. Go on, now.”

Pete grabbed Jake awkwardly in a hug, then turned and headed towards the bunkhouse, where warriors still pounded at the heavy door. He ran within twenty meters of the milling crowd, then knelt in the tall grass and struck a match. The fuses on the dynamite were incredibly short, and he had no experience with explosives.

The warriors had built a small fire by the bunkhouse, feeding it with loose scraps of wood, carrying flaming pieces over to the building to start a much bigger fire. A warrior tending the fire looked up and saw Pete kneeling in the grass. When he saw the match his eyes widened, he stood up, spear in hand, and walked deliberately towards Pete. He had walked only a few steps when he stopped with a sudden shudder. A small hole appeared in his chest, oozing blood. The warrior stood there, looking confused, and then his eyes rolled upwards; he sank to his knees, and toppled over on his side.

Now Pete heard it, the crackle of gunfire, off to his right, the whine of bullets coming in like bees. Screams. Two more warriors staggered and fell by the bunkhouse. Pete lit the fuse of the dynamite, watched the fuse burn all the way down, then flipped it towards the bunkhouse and dropped to the ground. The dynamite exploded in the air, knocking everyone hard to the ground within a radius of twenty meters. For a moment Pete could hear no sound except a high-pitched ringing; he stood up groggily, gripping the war club, stumbling forward.

The warriors panicked, darting away from him around the bunkhouse and across the grassy field towards the blackened and smoldering canyon beyond. Gunfire was continuous; Pete looked to his right, saw Ned and the others kneeling in a line by his fence, aiming and firing with careful deliberation. One by one, the warriors fell under rifle fire and lay still. Pete trotted after them, looking for Hidaig, finding Baela instead, firmly in the grip of Maki. The traitorous son of Anka was dragging her with him towards the canyon, a rifle in his hand. Pete changed direction and went after them, trotting faster until he was running. They hadn’t seen him, hurrying to escape the hail of bullets which somehow avoided them, not looking back but ahead to where the steep ridge came down to meet the grass. And there, waiting for them on the ridge, a spear in his hand, stood Hidaig. Grinning.

Pete gained ground with each step. By the time they reached the ridge he was only a few meters behind them. They scrambled up to the flat rock slab where Hidaig stood, spear leveled.

“Kill the Hanken slime!” screamed Hidaig.

“She comes with me!” yelled Maki. “I promised her—”

“I said kill her! Now!” Hidaig drew back his arm with the spear.

Maki twirled, getting himself between Hidaig and Baela, and pushing the girl to the ground.

Hidaig’s arm thrust forward, his spear piercing Maki in the throat. Maki let out a gurgling cry, releasing Baela and his rifle, grabbing the shaft of Hidaig’s spear with both hands and yanking it from him. As life pumped out of him, shock came; he teetered on the sharp edge of the ridge, then fell off it and spun lazily to the ground meters below.

Hidaig grabbed Baela’s hair in one hand, the rifle in the other, stepped forward and put one foot firmly on the girl’s stomach to hold her down. Pete roared, and charged up the ridge, swinging the club up in a high arc over his head.

Hidaig calmly leveled the rifle at Pete, a horrible grin on his face—and pulled the trigger.

The explosion was loud enough to drown Baela’s scream, the breech of the weapon blowing apart and sending splinters of steel and brass upwards into Hidaig’s eyes and face. As he staggered backwards, reaching for his face, Pete’s club came down with terrible force to destroy his head from crown to brain stem with a sickening plop. He toppled off the ridge to join Maki in the dirt below as Pete pulled Baela to her feet.

“Okay?” asked Pete.

“Okay,” she said, but her eyes were filled with tears. Below them, Ned and the others were advancing across the grass, and there was one more rifle shot.

No prisoners were taken that day.

“Bernie’s hurt; I’ve got to get back to her. Come with me.” Pete gave Baela’s hand a squeeze, then rushed towards the house. Baela hesitated, then started after him, but halfway to the house she changed direction, heading towards the barn.

Bodies were scattered in the grass, and Pete smelled death. Tenanken were piling out of the bunkhouse, a few following him as he rushed past. Ahead, a small crowd had gathered around Bernie, still on the ground by the porch, and an awful thought crept into Pete’s mind.
What if I lose her? What’s the sense of all I’m doing if I lose my wife and child?
But he was relieved to find her alive and conscious, managing a weak smile from her battered, swollen face when he bent over her, and then she burst into tears. He knelt down, and took her hands in his.

“I hurt so bad inside, Peter. I hurt so bad.”

“It’s all right now, hon. Lots of people here to take care of you.”

Jake put a hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Hope you don’t mind, but she complained a lot about pain on her left side so I pulled up her blouse and checked. No bleeding or swelling, but a pretty good bruise comin’. She might have a cracked rib, Pete. They really pounded her, but Jeezus, Pete, she killed
six
of ’em.”

“It’s not just my side, Peter,” said Bernie, squeezing his hands hard. “What scares me is the baby not moving, and I feel pain there too. Oh—there it goes again!” Bernie closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them wide. “Oh, God,” she said, “it’s starting!”

“What?” Pete was surprised by her sudden alertness.

“I think it’s coming
now
! Get me to a bed. I’m
not
going to have my child born in the dirt.”

Pete gulped, then looked at the faces around them. “Three on a side, and keep her back straight. We’ll lift together, and take her to the bedroom by the kitchen.”

Six men lifted her gently from the ground, and she groaned. They carried her inside the house, broken glass crunching under their boots, and put her on the brass bed she shared with Pete.

“Now what?” asked Jake. “Is she really gonna have a baby now? Hell, we need a doctor here.”

“Nearest one’s in Quincy, and Bernie’s in no shape for a ride,” said Ned. “Besides, our horses ’n’ wagons are all back at the creek. Any volunteers for a run back to town?”

A couple of hands went up. “Okay, Ed and Zeke, it’ll take you an hour if you really hump it. Stop by as many houses as you can, and tell the women to get right over here. I know Audrey’s done some midwifin’, and some of the others, maybe. Zeke, bring some shovels back. We’ve got maybe thirty bodies to bury somewhere.”

“We gonna talk about this, Ned?” asked Jake.

“Later,” said Ned. “Right now we need action, not words, unless you want to smell the stink.”

“The mouth of the canyon is a good spot,” said Pete, “and it’s safe on my property. Whoever these people were, I doubt they have relatives to come lookin’ for them.”

“Maybe,” said Jake thoughtfully, “but what we’re doin’ ain’t legal.”

“Later, Jake,” said Ned, but the end of the conversation came when Bernie moaned again.

“Can you get some women here? Things are really startin’ to happen!” she yelled.

The men crowded out of the room in confusion, Pete remaining at her side. Only a minute later Jake returned with Diana and two other women in tow. Pete looked at them, and without hesitation spoke in classical Tenanken.

“Please help her. Our child is ready to be born.”

Diana squealed with delight, clapping her hands together but then becoming stern, pushing both Peter and Jake out of the room and slamming the door behind them.

Pete looked at Jake, and managed a wry grin. “I’ve just been thrown out of my own bedroom by a woman who isn’t even my wife,” he said.

They occupied themselves with the other men for two hours, shoveling broken glass out of the front room and boarding up the big window. Everyone crowded into the house, wanting to help, and in an hour a steady stream of women was marching back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen. Near dusk, Diana emerged from the bedroom with a smile, took Pete by the arm and led him to Bernie. The women had cleaned and bandaged her wounds, and she had on her favorite nightgown, a white thing that made her hair seem even more golden. Her face was swollen and purple on the left side, one eye nearly shut so she had to turn her head to look at him. “See, I’m pretty again,” she said weakly.