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Authors: D. W. Ulsterman

Tags: #Fiction, #Science Fiction, #Military

Tumultus (9 page)

BOOK: Tumultus
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“I’ll apologize if I want to, but you’re the one who was pointing a gun at me.  Seems like maybe you owe me the apology.”

 

Cooper shrugged again.

 

“Fine – sorry.  Won’t happen again.  Well, that is unless you threaten my dog.”

 

Bear finally managed a smile.

 

“Yeah, got it.  Sorry about that.  I still say that damn dog has it in for me though.”

 

It was Cooper’s turn to smile.

 

“Oh, no doubt about it.  Brando don’t like you one bit, especially if you go picking on his new best friend Mac.”

 

Reese and Dublin were making their way toward the men and horses. Dublin stopped a few feet away, her eyes indicating how much she was looking forward to the horse ride across the border and into the provinces.

 

“So which one is mine?”

 

Cooper Wyse took the bridle of a black and white horse that had a particularly short, thick neck and especially wide hoofed feet, and led her toward Dublin.

 

“This here is Peanut.  She’s a little older than the rest, but without a doubt the best trail horse of the bunch.  She’ll just go and go and go.  Never seems to get tired.  If I had to pack in a big batch of whatever, it’s usually Peanut here who gets the job.  She sits low and sturdy, like a tank.”

 

Dublin stroked Peanut’s comparatively short face with her hand, then gave the horse a gentle pat on her right shoulder.

 

“She’s a beautiful little lady, Mr. Wyse.  Thank you.”

 

Cooper gave Peanut a loving look, scratching just under her chin.

 

“Yes, she is.  You two should get along just fine.  Do you have experience riding horses Dublin?”

 

Dublin was now looking over the well worn leather saddle that was strapped atop Peanut’s back.

 

“Actually, yes.  A little bit when I was a girl.  I did a riding club one summer a couple years before I came up to Dominatus with Grandfather.  Before…before my mother died.  She loved horses and kept one at a stable just outside the city.  We would visit there sometimes.”

 

Cooper turned to Reese.

 

“And what about you, Reese?  How much riding have you done?”

 

Reese shook his head.

 

“Very little.  I might have sat on one for a picture at a county fair once.  That’s about it.  Frankly, I’m pretty nervous about the idea of it.”

 

Cooper Wyse pointed to Bear.

 

“See, Bear, you’re not the only one who’s feeling a bit anxious.  You both are going to do just fine.  You’ll all be following my lead.  These horses know the way in and back, and know to just keep up with as little fuss as possible.

 

“That does leave me with another question though.  I figure Mac knows how to shoot a gun well enough, and from what I hear, Bear can certainly take care of himself just fine.  What about you two?”

 

Both Reese and Dublin stood next to each other.  Dublin opened her jacket to reveal a holstered handgun under her left arm.  Upon opening his jacket, Reese showed the very same handgun kept in the same location as Dublin’s.

 

Mac stepped next to Reese and clapped him on the shoulder.

 

“Dublin here, she’s been shooting for years.  Almost everyone in Dominatus carried a side arm, or at least owned a rifle.  She’s been a fine shooter for quite some time now.  Reese here, well he came to us not so keen on guns.  After what we went through with the attacks by the New United Nations though, he changed his tune and I’ve been teaching him as much as I can in the last couple years.  If the need arises, he’ll be more than up to the task of protecting himself and others.”

 

Cooper gave a brief nod, indicating he was satisfied with Mac’s response.

 

“Ok then, I have all the supplies packed up and ready to go.  We have enough food and water to last us a few days, which is more than enough to get us to the drop cabin.  I would prefer we don’t go near a city or town on the way – the less interaction we have with people the better.”

 

Mac pointed off in the direction of the hills they were to be travelling through momentarily.

 

“What’s the deal with Canada, Coop?  I’ve heard a few things here and there over the years, how it’s been a place for…well, kind of anything goes.  But is it really that dangerous?  Any more dangerous than say, the Lower 48 and all its compliance officers?”

 

“Different kind of danger, Mac, but just as deadly if you’re not careful.  I haven’t gone too far into Canada’s interior.  Mainly just to the drop cabin I share with my supplier that’s about a full days ride from here.  He’s the one who tells me what things are really like in the urban areas.  And it’s not good.  The Muslims took it over almost entirely about ten years ago.  Almost every city, they were dumped into the country by the tens of thousands for several years and were allowed to go after anyone and anything that opposed them.  Bloody and brutal.  Thousands of beheadings, tens of thousands of women raped.  Familes, children…killed during what they called infidel trials.”

 

Bear gave a nod toward Cooper.

 

“I heard some of that too.  Last year a trapper, nice old guy, he said he spent a couple years about twenty miles outside Dawson Creek working several trap lines.  He went into the city for supplies one day and saw a woman get her throat cut from ear to ear right in the middle of the street.  Her body was left there for the rest of the day as some kind of symbolic gesture to everyone else to not step out of line.  They had Sharia Law postings on every street, in every business and there would be a group of twenty or thirty thugs with machetes roaming the streets day and night just looking to go after someone.  And Dawson Creek is kind of in the middle of nowhere, right?  He said he wouldn’t get caught in some of the bigger cities like Vancouver or Toronto for anything.  If Dawson Creek was that scary, those other places have to be total terrors, especially for someone with white skin, or God forbid – openly Christian.”

 

“So how much of a chance do we have of actually making it all the way to the priest?”

 

Reese’s question remained unanswered for several seconds as Mac looked to Cooper Wyse, who in turn, simply shrugged back at Reese.  Finally Mac issued a reply.

 

“We make our way carefully.  Avoid the urban areas.  It’ll take some time, but it can be done.  No drones to worry about – at least not that many.  No compliance officers, just a whole lot of land and some asshole Muslim fanatics running the cities.  That makes it no different than say, Somalia about thirty years ago.  I used to go in and out of there regularly.  It was never done easy, but it was done.  Besides, like was said before – if there’s a weapon out there that can bring down the New United Nations, I’m willing to take that risk.  Take any risk if I have to.”

 

Cooper looked down at a gold pocket watch that hung from his leather vest and then returned his gaze back to the group.

 

“We need to be gettin’.  The next drone should be passing over those hills in about an hour.  I want us well away and on the other side by then.  We need to get to the cabin, and then we can review our route from there. There’s a loaded rifle strapped to the right side of each of your saddles, and a canteen of water.  In the pouch right by the horn is one of those handheld short waves you saw in the barn yesterday.  Each one is set with an already programmed default frequency.  If anyone gets lost, just press the little button on the side and we’ll be able to communicate with each other.

 

So, let’s saddle up then and be on our way.”

 

Cooper Wyse placed his left foot into a stirrup and swung himself gracefully into the saddle atop his horse – a medium sized chocolate colored mare he called Licorice.  He looked back to see Mac doing the same, though with a bit more effort and considerably less grace than Cooper.  Reese too struggled just a bit, while Dublin turned to help Bear, who had broken out into a noticeable sweat as he stared at the saddle stirrup.

 

“It’s ok, Bear, just put your foot in there, grab the saddle horn and pull yourself up.”

 

Bear’s jaw clenched and unclenched as he put his large left foot into the stirrup and grasped the saddle horn tightly with his right hand.  After pausing yet again, he closed his eyes and pulled himself up, the considerable weight of his body landing into the saddle causing Bear’s horse to let out a grunt.

 

His eyes opened again and Bear looked down at the ground below him, the knuckles of his right hand whitening as his grip on the saddle horn tightened even further. Dublin looked up at Bear and smiled, and then turned and mounted her own horse almost as effortlessly as Cooper Wyse had done his. 

 

Cooper scanned the property before putting his fingers to his mouth and whistling loudly.  Within seconds Brando came running from behind the barn to sit motionless no more than twenty feet from the group, the dog’s eyes looking intently at Cooper for further instructions.

 

“Brando!  Go!  Trail!  Trail!”

 

Cooper pointed toward the hills behind his property as Brando turned and ran at full speed in the same direction, his red coloring appearing and then disappearing inside the tall grass of the fields.

 

Mac smiled at Brando’s impressive display of speed.

 

“That is one fast dog there, Coop.  What do you have him doing?”

 

Cooper looked back at Mac.

 

“Brando runs ahead of me to make sure the way is clear, watches for bears and such.  He’s made the trip enough times now he knows exactly where we’re going.”

 

“So he’s doing recon work for you, that it?”

 

Cooper Wyse gave another of his now familiar shrugs.

 

“Yeah, guess that’s a way of putting it.”

 

Mac shook his head as he continued to watch Brando speed across the field.

 

“Hell of a dog.”

 

Cooper gave a soft kick to the side of his horse Licorice and began following the path Brando had just made, motioning the other four to follow him.

 

“Just let your horse follow me and Licorice.  We’ll start off slow, and then once you all are more comfortable, we can pick up the pace.  Once we hit the hills, we’ll slow up again – the trail gets steep in some places and there may still be a bit of snow up there in places.  We’ll be going northeast for a while to avoid having to cross a river, and then once we are inside Canada, we’ll start to go more directly east.  If we make good time, we’ll be at the cabin before nightfall.”

 

Mac followed behind Cooper, and behind him rode Reese and Dublin.  The last to follow was Bear, who leaned forward and whispered quietly into the right ear of his horse Ben.

 

“How about we make a deal Ben?   You don’t let me fall off and I don’t turn you into glue?”

 

At the entrance to the Wyse ranch, some two miles away, a lone human-like figure was crawling atop the ground.  It wore no clothing, its sinewy dark body devoid of any indications of it being male or female.   Its thick hairless skin was mottled and dark, almost leather like.  Long fingered hands tapered off into curved, claw like nails - nails that now dug into the pebbled ground that was the narrow drive leading to Cooper Wyse’s home.  It emitted a high pitched, whining growl, growing more excited as it continued to inhale the scent of the four humans who had stopped to rest at this very location just yesterday.

 

The creature’s face was incredibly narrow, though its mouth was large enough that its thin, black-purple lips nearly touched the lower portions of each of its ears.  The nose that continued to inhale and exhale loudly was short and flat, with massive nostrils flaring outward just above the freakishly wide mouth.  Two large eyes were filled almost completely by massive dilated, midnight black pupils.

 

Having satisfied itself with confirming the scent of the four humans, the thing stood up to survey the area around it.  Its back was severely humped causing the creature to stoop forward as it attempted to raise its nose into the slight breeze that blew around it.  The humped portion of its back stretched and pulled under its dark skin as it moved toward the fence Mac had leaned on the day before.

 

The wide mouth grew even wider as the thing seemed to grin, exposing two rows of jagged, deadly-looking teeth that would have been more at home in the mouth of a bat than that of anything remotely human.  Again it began to issue that high pitched, whining growl as it suddenly squatted down against one of the fence posts and loudly regurgitated a black tar like substance that smelled of rotting flesh.  The thing’s head moved quickly from side to side as it inhaled the contents of what it had just thrown up.

BOOK: Tumultus
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