Third World (25 page)

Newton needed something to engage him
fully, to help him get over the shakes.

Newton waited until they were back on
the road and everyone was on the back again. They were heading in
the opposite direction before he distracted them with more
instructions. He thumbed the microphone key.

“
Okay. We’re looking for a
side-trail to the left, or south. It should be about six kilometres
back…it looks like we go up a ridge or possibly an escarpment,
going by the contour lines on the map…”

Behind him, Hank and the others, he had
the barest idea of who was back there at this point, looked after
the patient and mumbled and whispered amongst themselves in low
tones.

***

Headed northwest again, the forest
quickly gave way to short grass interspersed with clumps of
low-growing weeds, the curving, picky vines that seemed to be
similar to rhizomes, in that root clusters grew out wherever they
touched the ground. It was the home of the reddish brush with
kinked branches that never seemed to get more than two or three
metres tall.

The smallest elevation change seemed to
wreak big changes in the flora, perhaps the year-round rainy season
and constant cool-to-moderate temperatures had something to do with
it. The field opened up further, and then after fifteen hundred
metres or so, it began to incline downwards again and the taiga
forest of brooding black spruce and leggy green balsam firs closed
back in.

The smell even seemed to penetrate into
the cab. Newton was studying the map when the vehicle ahead
abruptly lurched to a halt. They were just climbing back up and
towards what should be more rock ledges and open short-stem
prairie.

Newton slammed on the brakes, shoved
the clutch in and popped it out of gear. His headphones crackled,
something that had been happening more and more often
lately.

“
Sir?”

“
Yes?” It was Unit
One.

Someone behind him gasped. An arm
pointed, and down low to his right, on Screen Two, the feed from
Unit One, there was a line of horsemen, stopped dead in the path
and barring their way.

As his mouth dropped and he turned to
take it in, a pair of riders, two males, dismounted and began
walking towards the driver’s side of Unit One. A third person
hurriedly dropped to the trail and another one grabbed the bridle
of her fine bay, which had a blaze of white up the nose. He had an
unfortunate impression that they were all armed with rifles and
shotguns.

“
Shit.”

He heard snatches of talk over the open
pickup, and then he broke in.

“
Send them back. I’ll speak
with them. Stand by.”

“
Roger that.”

With his heart beating a little faster,
and reminding himself to suck in a little air once in a while and
control his demeanor, Newton watched the left side of the trail and
then they were right there heading for the driver’s side window. He
took a good look as their heads passed directly below the bottom
frame.

“
Trooper. Let them
in.”

Chapter Twenty

The First One Was
Unarmed

They stopped just inside the door,
staring at Oscar strapped to the back seats, help right there at
hand, and then looking up and around with some new understanding in
their faces. Then they moved closer in to Newton’s seat on the
right.

The first one was a middle-aged man,
slender and balding. He was unarmed. The second one, much older,
would have put Oscar to shame in terms of physical size, and he had
a revolver on his belt but it was secured with a thong over the
back end. He had shoulders and biceps of such a size that Newton
wondered how he got shirts to fit. The girl clambered up and in but
was practically invisible back there to Newton, although their
prisoner stared like a wild man, biting his lower lip and with the
sheen of tears in his eyes again.

“
I don’t have a lot of time.
What can I do for you?”

“
I’m Marty Voortmann. I’m
the spiritual leader of Oak River, one of several that is. May we
speak to Mister Beveridge?”

“
What about?”

The big one’s eyes locked on Newton’s
and a frozen shot of something like very strong liquor went up and
down his spine.

“
I’m Red.” The man had the
calmest eyes Newton had seen on anyone in a very long
time.

“
And you, young
lady?”

“
I’m Polly Morgensen.” If
looks could kill.

Newton Shapiro loved her at that
moment, all on his own and for no reason he could ever explain. He
kind of hated himself as much as they did, or certainly she did, at
that that exact moment in time.

Hank’s sharp intake of breath presaged
another loud sob.

“
I’m Lieutenant Newton
Shapiro of Her Majesty’s Ship
Hermes.
”

Marty spoke.

“
We have made some
arrangements on Hank’s behalf.”

Newton’s heart pounded in his chest.
Shapiro inclined his head, as his own people held their breaths,
and with strangely shining eyes hung on every word. The worst were
the ones staring right at him.

“
Ah…sure. Why
not.”

“
Hank…we’ve locked and
shuttered your cabin. The animals are being well cared
for…”

“
Ahhh…” Hank Beveridge,
unable to hold it in any longer, in a motion too quick for words,
flung himself down in a fetal position and bawled like a
baby.

All the while the pale face of the
unconscious Oscar and the ghastly look on Trooper Hernandez’s face
reminded Newton Shapiro that he didn’t have all day and that he had
higher priorities, extremely pressing ones at that.

“
We just want you to know
the whole town is behind you and we’re all pulling for you,
Hank.”

The preacher looked at
Shapiro.

“
I believe the young lady
wishes to speak to him.”

Shapiro, embarrassed, looked at his own
people.

“
Non-essential people can
go.” He engaged Hernandez in a look. “You can stay. She may not
give him any, ah, objects, weapons, tools, a cake…anything like
that.”

She nodded soberly as the cab cleared
slowly, leaving just Hank, Oscar, the young lady and
Hernandez.

“
Five minutes. No more. We
have a casualty.”

Polly Morgensen nodded, with a quick
and contemptuous glance at Oscar. Not waiting for Shapiro to go,
she went to him.

Wordlessly, Newton headed for the door
and the two lovers clung to each other on the seat where Hank
Beveridge was back under restraints, but that was the hell of
regulations: going by the book wasn’t meant for comfort, it was
meant to get results.

The two civilians were waiting on the
ground, as if there might be one or two things more to
discuss.

Shit.

***

When they found the first side-trail,
which wasn’t entirely easy as there were so many parallel and
angled paths, the vehicles were stopped again.

A pair of troopers, one from
each unit, took their weapons for protection from
big game animals
and
hurried down the trail. They were stopped two hundred metres in by
a wall of the blue sponge-coral brush, a local name that was
taxonomically-accepted in the official sense.

“
All kinds of game paths in
here, some man-made…”

“
Thank you, keep
going.”

“
Ah, negative, sir, we’re
stymied here…”

What made a decorative and
quick-growing hedge on more affluent worlds was merely a nuisance
on Third World.

Newton studied the map display, having
switched for the passenger seat.

Rotating through the two units, with
people officially on and off duty, this time Trooper Roy would be
driving. He was at least competent.

Roy looked over.

“
The next one’s only three,
maybe four hundred metres.”

Shapiro keyed his radio
microphone.

“
All right. troopers, get
back here on the double.”

“
Roger that.”

The speaker overhead cracked with a
signal from Unit Two, but it was distorted so much he had no idea
what they said. He looked at Roy, and then back over his shoulder
at a line of pale faces waiting in their seats for the ordeal to
end.

The signal didn’t come
again.

He had fresh bodies looking after
Oscar, with Semanko prominent in the seat nearest the door, next to
where the emergency medical kit was lashed down.

They were back in five minutes and the
trucks moved on, with Shapiro cursing every delay. Oscar had
regained consciousness, but promptly closed his eyes and his vital
signs were very low.

They were jamming all the plasma into
him that the human body could absorb, and the wound was leaking.
The possibility of a blood-clot, or a chunk of plastic from the
glue lodging in Oscar’s heart, lungs or brain, haunted Shapiro. The
thoughts of opening it up again were not pleasant, but he could do
it if he must.

The time dragged on interminably as Roy
followed Unit One, keeping fifty metres back at all times for
safety.

Unit One lurched to halt.

“
Send a patrol.” Shapiro’s
voice had a note of urgency.

“
Roger that.”

According to the map, the terrain was
ten metres higher here, although the slope was so gentle it was
imperceptible. The delay was maddening as two soldiers dropped from
the back of the vehicle ahead and Roy carefully eased in close and
drew her to a halt. Rifles were handed down as Shapiro ground his
jaws and said nothing.

At a quick trot, weapons held at the
ready, the pair disappeared into the brush. They watched the
minutes roll by, with small talk in the back and Roy sticking a set
of private ear-pieces in for whatever music he enjoyed.

Roy looked at him.

“
I can hear everything over
this.”

Shapiro nodded.

“
Good.”

***

A full twenty minutes had passed before
Shapiro decided to call them.

“
Unit Two here. What’s it
like?”

“
It’s dry, and a bit soft in
the ruts, there’s plenty of those. It seems to climb a bit, but the
river must still be up there.”

The map showed that the land dropped
back down again. This was most likely the second cross-trail, but
one just never knew on Third World.

“
Can you hear
it?”

“
Come back?”

“
Can you hear the
river?”

There was a pause.

“
We’re not sure.”

Shapiro thought on that. It should be a
kilometre and half by the map, if they were on the main road and
not a side-branch, and if this was the turn-off they sought.
Judging by the red dots on the tactical map, they were only four or
five hundred metres in. Another God-damned judgment
call.

“
All right. Hold up where
you are and wait for us.”

“
Roger that.” The cheerful
tone reminded Newton just how young and green some of his people
were.

“
And no horse-play. Got
me?”

Their acknowledgement was equally
cheerful, and about as equally reassuring to a very worried Newton
Shapiro.

“
You know, Lieutenant, I’ve
been thinking…” The low rumble of a male voice from behind
surprised him.

“
Huh?” It was Beveridge,
silent for the last hour or so since his lady and his neighbours
had departed. “What?”

Mounting up and spurring their horses
into a wall of low growth, it was like they just disappeared.
Newton had a funny idea they were headed to Capital City rather
than just going home.

Beveridge composed his thoughts as
Shapiro patiently sought answers behind those tired
eyes.

They would be within their legal rights
to do that, show up in town or whatever, and it was also entirely
possible that they might be ambushed, although Barnes said the talk
between the prisoner and Polly had seemed pretty innocuous. She had
admittedly found it romantic in the extreme and was taking more
solicitous care of him when she could.

The memory of boys of fourteen or
fifteen years of age, all of them carrying rifles, sitting their
horses and staring impassively, could not safely be ignored,
although the adults were impressive in their own way. All that
self-reliance, he supposed. Hopefully cooler heads would
prevail.

“
What?”

The man took a deep breath.

“
There’s a helicopter at the
field in Capital City…it’s a small one, or so I hear,
but…”