A Girl Called Badger

EIGHTEEN



Strong hands pulled at his jacket and belt.

“Take him to the guard house,” said a man’s voice. “Use that. Carry the dog. Move!”

The villagers lifted his body and began to run.

Wilson bounced on the blanket with each step and felt better with his eyes closed. He listened to the rapid squish of boots over the earth and the gasp of someone out of shape. His carriers splashed through water and the breeze over his face cooled. Wilson opened his eyes to the dark cornfields outside David.

The hunters passed through the small portal in the wooden gate and brought him to a house near the palisade wall. Once inside they helped Wilson and Badger lay on a pair of firm and narrow bunks.

A hunter poured each a cup of water and gave them a chunk of break.

“Please relax, Your Graces,” he said. “Leader Yishai will be here soon.”

Wilson closed his eyes again for a few moments. The door to the room squealed open and he looked up. A white-haired woman in a green dress entered. She touched Wilson’s head with the back of her hand.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” she asked in the dialect. “Excuse me for saying, but you look like three-week-old milk but I don’t––oh yes, this needs a new bandage.” She lifted his right hand.

“I need to see Leader Yishai,” said Wilson.

“He’ll be here, keep your pants on,” said the woman.

She opened his jacket and whistled at the round scab on his belly. With strong, bony hands she pushed Wilson on his side and saw the exit wound on his back.

“You’ve been in somebody’s henhouse, I can tell,” she said.

The old woman made Badger lie down and examined her from head to toe. She searched her apron pockets.

“Ana, the book!”

A girl in a blue dress ran up with a small book and inkwell. The old woman scratched out a dozen lines with a quill pen. She looked down every now and then to note the location of gunshot wounds, bites, and burns on her two patients.

“What are you writing?” asked Wilson.

“Wouldn’t you like to know. I’ll be back soon with the right medicine.”

The old nurse left with her assistant.

“They’re going to ask where your father is,” said Badger.

“One of the hunters would have told someone.”

“Maybe not.”

The door opened with a cloud of street dust and the leader of the village stepped inside. Yishai’s face was lined with exhaustion and he wore a pistol belt.

He spread his hands and bowed. “Welcome back!”

Wilson and Badger started to get up but Yishai put his hands on their shoulders. He started to talk in halting phrases then switched to the tribal dialect.

“From what I can see–” he said, “–your journey was eventful.”

“That’s true,” said Wilson. “But we can talk about that later. The Circle is sending an army to attack David.”

Yishai frowned. “Why?”

“We made them mad,” said Badger.

“Really?”

Wilson rubbed his eyes. “It’s a long story. Both of us were captured by Darius–”

“The local speaker for the Circle.”

“Right. He thinks we came from here. He threatened to burn David to the ground and make everyone a slave.”

“I’ve heard those threats before,” said Yishai.

Wilson shrugged. “Well, that was before we set the village on fire.”

“And killed the leader of Woodland. And took something from Darius,” said Badger.

“Something attached,” said Wilson.

“I see.”

“Also, many Circle transports passed us,” said Wilson. “All heading this direction.”

Yishai scratched his dark beard and nodded. “Well, there’s nothing for it.”

“You don’t seem worried,” said Wilson.

“It’s true we’ve had contact with Circle bandits, but worrying about it doesn’t help one way or another. That’s something I learned from your father.”

“I don’t know what good those lessons are now,” said Wilson. “He’s dead.”

Yishai rubbed his hands down his face and sighed. “I know. Your man Carter told me.”

“He’s not still here is he?”

“No. He waited a few days but finally traveled west with the other one, Martinez.”

Wilson touched the filthy bandage around his right hand. “Does everyone know? About my father, I mean.”

“Not the details. As you can imagine, it’s been a great shock to us. I held a gathering and told everyone he sacrificed himself to save you, then returned to the western mountains.”

“There’s more truth than fiction in that,” said Wilson. “But about the Circle–”

“We’ve fought off tribals before, and knew the Circle would attack someday,” said Yishai. “Plans for the defense have already been created, and during the day I’ll show them to you. Make sure to eat and rest well. I’ll have someone help you to your father’s room.”



THE TREATMENT STAFF changed their bandages and brought herbal medicines and food. As they finished drinking a hot, bitter soup a familiar girl in a green dress appeared.

“Kaya!”

“Wilson savisto, I’m so sorry! Your father–”

“I know.”

“And you look very sick,” she said.

“Well, at least I’m still breathing.”

“It’s good that you’re back. I’ll take you to rest.”

Wilson stood up. “Wait a second. Where’s the dog?”

All three looked through the room and around the building without finding it. Wilson sent Kaya to check the south gate. She returned a quarter-hour later.

“I’m sorry. The hunters say they left the dog outside the building.”

“It’s hiding and you won’t find it,” said Badger.

“Kaya, that dog was important to me,” said Wilson. “If you or anyone can find him, I’ll be in your debt.”

“I understand. What’s the dog’s name?”

“I don’t know if it has one,” said Wilson. “I’m sorry.”

Kaya took both by the hand and led them through the dark streets to the village square. She spoke to a guard in front of the meeting hall and he opened the door. After she guided them to the second floor Kaya excused herself.

Wilson opened the door to his father’s bedroom. Inside was a large quilted bed. Along the sides of the room were tables piled high with books and dried herbs in wooden bowls. The room smelled of elderberries, pine tar, and cedar. Wilson and Badger crawled under the bed’s thick quilt and fell asleep immediately.



WILSON DREAMED HE WAS a rocket from the old days. He flew skyward through a fog of midnight clouds and nothing could stop him. People he knew passed through his fingers. He rose until the earth was a tiny ball at his feet then slammed into a huge yellow flower. On the trip down he burned like a wishing star.

The morning sun crept across his face and slowly woke him. Badger mumbled in her sleep and Wilson carefully left the bed.

Kaya was in a chair outside the door. She led him to a bathing closet and filled a large tub with hot water.

“Did you find the dog?”

Kaya shook her head. “I’m sorry.”

The water turned black as he washed. He rinsed in another basin. Kaya brought a white shirt and trousers and Wilson strapped on his belt and knife.

A boy arrived with a breakfast of porridge and spiced eggs. Badger was still sleeping, so Wilson ate by himself. He left Kaya outside the bedroom and walked down to the plaza.

On the far side, dozens of traders from other tribes showed their wares on blankets. In the center a group of twenty young men listened to a lecture on rifle cleaning by a man in a white jacket. Wilson was more interested in a crowd of people around a small, table-top machine. A villager dumped a basket of what looked like chokecherries into a funnel at the top. He noticed Wilson watching from the crowd.

“We have an honored guest! Please, Your Grace––try it for yourself.”

Wilson approached the machine. “Thanks, but you don’t have to call me that.” He turned a wooden crank at the side and mashed fruit poured into a bowl at the bottom.

“It saves time,” said the villager.

“I can see that. Very nice.”

He walked to the traders on the far side of the plaza. The tribals were offering furs, dried meats of unknown provenance, intricate animal carvings, and bundles of herbs. The David villagers bartered leather goods or well-made knives for these items.

The medicine from the night before was wearing off. Wilson thought about having Kaya find more for him. Instead of returning to the meeting hall, he wandered the streets with somber, threadbare feelings. The villagers went about their daily routines of gathering, making, fixing, cooking, but it was too unreal to Wilson. He felt like a rabbit who’d been caught right outside his hole. The Circle will run through this place like a prairie fire, he thought.

He sat on a bench just under the northern stone tower.

“Having a good rest?” A voice came from above.

Wilson looked up. Yishai’s head stuck from a tiny window in the stone tower, ten meters up. Yishai disappeared and a moment later opened a wooden door at street level.

“What were you doing up there?” asked Wilson.

“Want to see?”

He led Wilson up a long flight of wooden stairs along the inside of the stone tower. Men’s voices drifted down from the top. They spoke with quiet and deliberate tones.

Wilson climbed into the fresh air and stared at a huge cannon.

Dark gold in color, it was supported by a wooden framework. Wilson gathered from handles on the sides and deep grooves in the thick beams of the floor that it could rotate a half-circle.

The workmen around the cannon watched him walk around the small, open space.

“How on earth ...”

“Your father,” says Yishai. “I said last night that we’ve been preparing for years.”

Wilson looked down at the rooftops of David. “But how did you get it up here?”

“We built the tower under the cannons, block by block. You can imagine how much effort that took, but it wasn’t the hardest part. It was harder to cast a metal barrel that wouldn’t crack and explode.”

“Still ... wait, you said ‘cannons.’ There’s more than one?”

Yishai pointed to the southern tower. “There.”

Wilson realized the other tower was identical. He squinted and could see a shadowy cannon and a few tiny figures around it. He looked down at the village streets and watched a girl carry a bundle of gray blankets. Smoke drifted from chimneys, cooking the midday meal or heating iron for a blacksmith. The miniature vendors in the plaza bartered and the soldiers performed a miniature drill. He looked toward the eastern hills. He didn’t imagine those wheeled transports.

“Yishai, I didn’t make it up. We saw them coming this way.”

“I trust you,” said Yishai. “Those bandits we ambushed last night were Circle.”

“But–”

“We’ll do a test of this cannon, Your Grace. Please follow me where it’s less disturbing.”

Wilson walked down the wooden steps and outside. Yishai led him through the streets to a wooden fire-step on the eastern wall. Soldiers could stand on the fire-step during an attack and fire over the top of the palisade.

Yishai pointed to a hillside across the corn fields. Halfway up the hill the trunk of a large oak tree was painted white. Yishai waved a yellow flag in his hand and the northern tower repeated the signal. A few seconds later the tower boomed smoke and flame. The cannon-shot flew through the branches. The tower fired a few more shots and splintered the trunk with a direct hit.

“Impressive,” said Wilson.

Yishai nodded. “It’s thanks to your father. But now that he’s gone ...”

Wilson didn’t say anything and simply stared at the splintered oak tree.



HE WENT BACK TO his father’s room. Badger sat on the edge of the bed brushing her hair. She wore a blue dress and looked fresh from the bath.

“Hello stranger,” she said.

“I was talking with Yishai about the village defenses. Didn’t want to wake you.”

She smiled. “It’s just like you to worry. Those Circle pigs can’t touch us now. If they show up and get slaughtered I won’t shed a tear.”

“I guess you’re right. I just have a strange feeling about this.”

“I know what you mean,” said Badger. “Somehow it’s like I never woke up, that I’m still … back there.”

She kissed him and turned away. “But you’re not me, are you? A few days of rest and you’ll be fine.”

“Kira––where’s that girl who punched Mast in the nose?”

Badger wrinkled her nose. “She’s right here, buddy. I’ve already eaten so let’s take a stroll.”

They walked out to the square. A boom came from the southern tower.

Badger shaded her eyes from the sunlight and watched the smoke drift upwards. “Sounds like a really big gun,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s basically it,” said Wilson.

They walked toward the main gate to get a better view of the cannon practice. Villagers bowed as they passed and Wilson did his best to ignore it.

“How’s your arm?” he asked.

“Better. The sleep helped to close the wound and there’s less pain. One strange thing ... when I took a bath Kaya was shocked that some of my scratches and bruises were gone.”

“Tribal people heal very slowly,” said Wilson.

“But that’s me. I came from the tribes.”

Wilson nodded. “The difference is you’ve got an implant and they don’t.”

The main gate was open and they joined a crowd of villagers outside. The target for the cannon was a pair of oak trees across the field, both with white-painted trunks.

“I just don’t understand,” said Badger.

“What? They’re trying to hit those trees.”

“No, about the Circle. They’ve got to be crazy to attack this place.”

Wilson didn’t say anything. He kept looking at the eastern hills without wanting to.



YISHAI INVITED THEM TO an evening meal at his house. The table was set with the same red porcelain dishes and tan cloth just as before. Wilson was glumly reminded it had only been two weeks since he’d sat down with Teacher and Father Reed.

“Is anything wrong?” asked Yishai. “You look very pale.”

“It’s nothing,” said Wilson. “I’m fine.”

A girl in a blue dress poured everyone a bowl of corn and egg soup.

“Any sign of the Circle?” asked Wilson.

“Not yet.” Yishai swallowed a mouthful of soup. “The Circle may have heard our cannons and decided to go home.”

“I doubt that,” said Badger.

Wilson nodded. “I don’t see Darius giving up without a raid.”

Yishai spread his hands. “We can handle a raid. If their warriors want to throw themselves at my cannons and rifles, I won’t stop them.”

Roasted venison and steamed fish with carrots were brought out. Halfway through the meal, the door burst open. A soldier stood covered in dust and hatless.

“News!” said Yishai.

He ran across the room. The breathless soldier murmured a few words to him and pointed out the door a few times. Yishai touched the soldier on the shoulder and sent him away.

“What’s happening?” asked Wilson.

Yishai tugged on his dark beard. “What we expected.”



THE CIRCLE ARMY LINED a treeless ridge to the east of David like an olive-green thread. Weapons and bits of metal glittered in the fading sun.

Wilson and Badger watched from a second-floor window not far from the eastern wall.

“Nothing to worry about,” said Badger. “Can’t be more than two hundred.”

Wilson didn’t say anything. Smoke puffed from the Circle lines. The boom came a second later. Earth fountained in a corn field outside the wall.

“A cannon!” said Badger.

“I think I see it. It’s not that big,” said Wilson.

The small cannon fired again. The fountain of dirt exploded closer to the village. The cannon crew were obviously adjusting their aim.

The fourth shot burst through the palisade in a shower of splinters. The cannon kept pounding that area. After a barrage lasting a quarter-hour, the green army broke into clumps and moved down the hill. When they passed the white-painted target tree David’s northern cannon thundered. The shot tore a handful of men into bloody pieces on the hillside.

The men in olive-green reached the edge of the corn field and began to run. The villagers along the palisade opened up with rifles and added to the smoke and noise of the cannons.

The smaller Circle cannon had shattered the wooden palisade in several places, but none of the attacking tribals made it through the gaps. Most were cut down by rifle fire and died in the trampled corn. The handful of survivors fled back up the hill.

David’s northern cannon gradually elevated and got the range of the hilltop. Under fire, the Circle crew abandoned their small cannon and ran.

At the wall, Yishai shouted something and the villagers erupted in cheers. The sun disappeared below the western mountains as a group of militia wandered in the fields and checked the bodies.

Wilson felt sick to his stomach.

“What a waste,” he murmured. “A horrible, useless waste.”

“All this shooting makes me tired,” said Badger. “Tuck me into bed?”



BADGER HAD NO PROBLEM falling asleep, unlike Wilson. He tossed and turned for a few hours then sat at the desk and read an old book on human behavior from his father’s collection.

A clap of thunder shook the bedroom walls and vibrated the floor beams. Thirty seconds later it rattled again. And again. A wooden cup bounced on the floor. Wilson stood up.

Someone banged on the door and he opened it. Kaya was outside in a white nightdress.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s the Circle,” said Kaya. “We’re being attacked again!”

Wilson grabbed his clothes from the day before and strapped on his knives and pistol. The building continued to vibrate every half-minute.

Badger still slept, and Wilson touched her cheek. The skin was cold and moist.

“Cat’s teeth––Kira, wake up!”

He pulled off the quilt and turned Badger onto her back.

Kaya covered her eyes. “She’s not dead, is she?”

Wilson watched Badger’s chest rise slowly. “No. Still breathing.”

“But why doesn’t she wake up?”

Wilson pressed the reset code on the inside of her arm. Nothing. He tried a dozen times and still no response. Her pulse was slow and thready. He pulled back each of her eyelids and the pupils shrank from the light.

He found lemon oil and peppermint on a table and waved both under her nose. Nothing. He opened her clothing and checked for any new injuries. She didn’t protest and was as still as a beautiful, black-haired doll. Wilson rubbed his face with both hands and groaned.

“Wilson savisto, what can I do?” asked Kaya.

“What can any of us do?” Wilson stood up. “Please stay with her. I have to find Yishai.”



THE VILLAGE HAD CHANGED overnight from a heady mood of victory to one of organized panic. Boys with lanterns dashed through the dark streets carrying messages or a bag of tools. Nurses carried wounded to the western end of the village, where the cannon shells hadn’t fallen yet.

Wilson jogged toward the eastern section. He tried to focus on how mad Badger would be when she woke up. She hated being fussed over.

The northern tower boomed and smoke swirled around the top.

Smoke began to burn his nose and throat. Wilson slowed down and held a small cloth over his mouth. He whispered the sight-trick poem and the night became clear. From a distance he saw the breach in the eastern wall. All of the repairs had been destroyed and houses were on fire nearby. Villagers fired rifles through the breach. The fields outside were covered with muzzle flashes and a swarm of running men.

Wilson turned right and ran south through the streets. He almost collided with Yishai and a group of soldiers. The air hummed as the southern tower fired above their heads.

“Yishai!”

“Wilson. No time to talk!”

“The Circle?”

“Yes, but with more cannons and men,” said Yishai.

A thunder rolled in the east. Wilson heard a high-pitched whistle from the night sky then was blown into a doorway like a rag doll.

Silence.

Wilson shook the blackness out of his head. He stared at a child’s shoe on the ground. Brown dust and broken wood from the building covered everything in sight. Men lay under fragments of roof beams.

Yishai sat in the street like a brown, dust-covered ghost. Wilson sneezed and gave him a hand up. Another vibration showered more splinters.

Wilson felt a stabbing pain in his right arm. A long splinter stuck from his bicep. He clenched his jaw and pulled it out.

They brought the survivors to a nearby house. Wilson began to hear again, but a strange, high pitch remained. Yishai found a stylus and inkwell. He wrote messages on scraps of paper and handed them to a line of boys. Wilson thought about returning to check on Badger, but Yishai led him to a tall building nearby. The roof gave a panoramic view.

A thick fog of gray smoke covered the cornfields. Circle warriors scrambled through the murky leaves like locusts. The cannon fire didn’t seem to faze them.

The eastern hills flashed and a building exploded in a shower of splinters and roof tiles. Yishai handed him a spyglass and Wilson stared at a squat, boxy cannon. It was covered completely with charcoal-colored metal. Unlike the four-wheeled transports, the black monster had a dozen smaller wheels circled by two muddy tracks. Smoke popped from the cannon and blocked his view.

“Are we shooting back at this thing?”

“Of course,” said Yishai.

Wilson counted the firing rate. The armored cannon boomed and cycled every thirty seconds. Compared to the day before, this cannon fired more rapidly and the damage was ten times more serious. A quarter of the village was already in flames.

Yishai pointed to another ridge in the east, the one crossed by old 24. Wilson moved the spyglass. He saw a cloud of dust and three Circle transports barrelling toward David’s southern gate. Yishai took the stairs down to the street and Wilson followed.

“Maybe it will run out of shells,” he said.

An explosion and noise like a stone avalanche came from the south. Wilson and Yishai ran toward the sound. The south tower had collapsed into a pile of stone and wood.

Yishai spat on the ground. He grabbed two dazed boys and sent them off with orders.

“We’re abandoning the village,” he said to Wilson. “Take Airman Chen and whatever you can carry to the northern gate. There’s a ravine that heads west.”

“Leave the village? That’s crazy!”

“We prepared for this too. No time to explain!”

“What about you?”

Yishai ran towards the southern gate. “Go!”

Wilson legged it back to the square. He narrowly missed a collision with a small boy who ran through the streets yelling at the top of his lungs.

“Red Bear! Red Bear!” screamed the boy.

A bell near the square began to peal a regular pattern––two short and three long.

Sweat had soaked through his shirt by the time he reached the meeting hall. The building rattled from a nearby explosion and he took the stairs two at a time. In the bedroom, Kaya and another girl held a sheet over Badger to protect her from falling dust.

“We’re leaving,” he said. “Take blankets, food, and water. Find your families and anyone you see. Tell them to go to the northern gate. Does ‘Red Bear’ mean anything?”

“Just what you said––abandon the village,” said Kaya. “What about her?”

“I’ll carry her.”

“But how? Look at you!”

“We don’t have time to argue.”

Wilson grabbed his empty pistol and the implant manual and stuck both in his jacket. He wrapped Badger in a blanket and looked around at what was left of his father’s life. The air was full of the smell of medicine and freshly-cut fruit.

“Goodbye, Father,” he said.

He closed his eyes and whispered the verses of the strength-trick, then lifted Badger over his shoulder and walked heavily downstairs.

The streets outside were packed with running villagers. Mothers carried infants and the older children ran behind with packs or rolls of blankets. A pair of boys ran by with an old man on a litter. Half a dozen men waved their arms and shouted directions. The crowds swirled like a turbulent school of fish around the men, but mostly followed the command to go north.

The ground shook from a massive explosion and brightened the streets for a moment with orange light. Wilson stumbled in the gravel but kept going. Over the rooftops to the south a cloud rolled into the sky, coal-black and slashed with flame. Wilson turned away from the prickly heat and carried Badger at a fast walk through the streets.

The northern gate was open. Families with overstuffed bags and precious belongings streamed through the corn field toward a forest. A dozen soldiers sheltered behind overturned carts outside the gate and fired their rifles east.

Wilson followed the line of villagers over the muddy, trampled corn. The trick began to wear off and his muscles burned from carrying Badger on his shoulder. Bullets whistled above his head and smacked through the green blades of corn like angry wasps.

At last he made it to the trees. Wilson lay Badger on the soft ground behind an oak tree and sat down for a rest. The line of villagers continued along a trail that sloped down into a dark ravine. Wilson looked back at David. A dozen gray pillars of smoke boiled into the sky. Rifles cracked and popped inside the walls like a green wood on a fire. The dreams of these people were turned to black, useless dust and floated away on the wind. Wilson held his head in his hands and felt it was all his fault.

The charcoal Circle machine had slid from the hills like a disgusting snail and now crawled toward the village. It spat a cloud of gray smoke and the north tower answered with a boom. Half a minute later, the squat Circle cannon fired again and the top of the tower burst apart in a spray of stone and wood.The black machine continued south with a mechanical blat-blat sound. Soon the eastern edge of the palisade wall blocked it from view.

The line of villagers running out of the gate thinned to a few frantic boys. Wilson checked Badger’s vital signs. He knelt to pick her up when a high-pitched yell pierced the battle noise. Wilson looked back at the village and saw Kaya struggling through the mud and trampled corn. She held the black dog in her arms.

The northern gate crumpled in a massive explosion and knocked her to the ground. Wilson stumbled across the field as another black and orange mushroom rolled from the village. He helped Kaya stand and took the dog from her arms. They ran towards the forest as two more shook the ground and boiled into the sky. A few soldiers that had survived the destruction at the gate followed them and took positions inside the trees.

Wilson laid the dog next to Badger. “Where was he?”

“In the street!”

They heard a mechanical drone and a tiny four-wheeled vehicle sliced through the corn fields like a bat out of hell. The soldiers aimed their rifles but Wilson stepped in front of them and spread his arms.

Yishai stopped the vehicle a short distance away. The front was covered with long corn leaves, bits of green stalk, and mud. Yishai and a man sitting behind him were in the same messy state as the vehicle. Their faces and clothes were black with soot. A small wisp of smoke trailed from Yishai’s jacket and he bled from multiple scratches.

“Where did you get that?” asked Wilson.

Yishai grinned. “Captured yesterday. It was going to be a surprise.”

“It still is.”

Yishai pointed at Badger. “Is she hurt?”

“No, but she’s very, very sick,” said Wilson.

Yishai waved to a flat section on the back of the vehicle. “She can ride here.”

“No, I’ll carry her. Kaya and the dog can ride.”

Yishai spoke a few words to the man and the soldiers then sped away with Kaya and the dog on the back. He drove through a field to the northeast instead of following the path through the forest.

Wilson folded a blanket length-ways. He moved Badger onto the cloth and picked up the front while the man who had ridden behind Yishai carried the other end. The two followed the sloping path into the ravine with their burden.

They were alone in the deep forest. The other villagers had out-paced them along the trail and the soldiers didn’t follow. The well-worn path sloped down to a creek bed then up the opposite bank. After the chaos and shocking noise of the battle the silence made Wilson anxious. He pushed himself to move faster. They stopped only twice to rest, and for less than a minute each time.

After an hour of walking, the first light of dawn appeared in the sky. Wilson and his helper crossed a deep stream to a clearing packed with people. Yishai was taking stock near the center of who and what had survived.

Wilson lay exhausted beside Badger’s wrapped body. He heard the crunch of footsteps and saw Kaya’s small moccasins.

“Thank you for finding my dog,” said Wilson, not wanting to raise his head.

Kaya pointed. “He’s next to that tree if you want to see him. Do you have a water skin?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

Kaya left and Wilson watched the sun rise lazily through the leaves. After a quarter hour more footsteps shuffled nearby.

“I’m glad you made it,” said Yishai. “Can we do anything to help her?”

“What can be done, has been done,” said Wilson. “The only cure is at my village.”

“I see.”

“I guess this is ‘Red Bear,’” said Wilson.

“Yes. We had a plan before, but your father made it more organized. This is our refuge when all has been lost.”

“But how can you abandon the entire village? What about food and water? Medicines and gunpowder?”

“Not as valuable as what we saved,” said Yishai. He pointed at a wooden box the size of a coffin. “Seed storage.”

“What were all those explosions?”

“The last of our powder. Actually, the first was a powder house, the second was my trap for the ugly moving cannon.”

“Did it work?”

“I don’t know. I do know that too many people lost their lives fighting that thing. But now we must gather a supplies and decide what to do next.”

“Take the village back? Rebuild?”

Yishai shook his head. “Not unless we want to fight more of those bastard machines.”

He gave Wilson a hand up from the ground.

“You’ve helped me more than I deserve,” said Wilson. “Now it’s my chance to return the favor.”

“How?”

“I’ll take you to the west. To Station.”