We the People vol 2: Liberty or Death

Stark called a stop to the advance and set about establishing his defenses. His soldier’s efforts were hampered by the heavy, incessant rain. It was being said among the soldiers that the weather would prevent any engagements between the two armies. The idea of a war not happening because it was rained out would have made Thane laugh, if she hadn’t been barely holding herself together.

She was swaddled in a heavy green cloak, on loan from the Green Mountain boys, to hide her rotting form. The strain of maintaining her army had taken a terrible toll, her skin stretched thin over bones that felt brittle as glass. Thane felt that if she were to fall, she would shatter.

“Thane!”

Bast was at her side, catching her. Thane leaned heavily on him as he eased her to the ground. Supporting her torso with one arm, he used his free hand to withdraw a leather waterskin. Even though it was stoppered tightly, the scent of gray matter reached her nostrils.

Moving with a sudden, savage energy, Thane seized the leather flask from his hands. Bits of flesh flecked off her fingers as she fumbled with the stopper, revealing white bone. Frustration drove her to bite the stopper off and shove the open end into her mouth.

“Thane?”

She heard Bast’s voice, but her world was the contents of the skin and he was but a distant constellation overhead. Her wounds healed as her body knitted itself from the inside out, powered by her cerebral meal.

“I have another,” Bast said, reaching toward his pack. Thane snatched the bundle away with such ferocity and impatience the thong holding it to his shoulders snapped.

Gradually, Thane ceased being the Monster and became herself. Bast stood several feet away, a knife in his hand.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, licking his lips.

“Leroy, why are you holding a knife?” she asked, feeling betrayed. “You know I would never hurt you.”

Bast’s stoicism wavered before the genuine hurt in her tone.

“I know you would never want to,” he said, quickly sheathing the knife.

“Never want to? Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Thane, you have displayed an inability to control yourself when you’re extremely famished. You can’t blame me for taking precautions.”

“Precautions?” Thane shook her head. She rose to her feet, eyes never straying from Bast. “Thank you for the meal. Now get the Hell away from me.”

Bast tried to speak, but she shouldered past him and headed toward the army’s front line. The rain left the field muddy, and her boots squelched through the sodden turf.

If she strained her eyes, she could make out the distant, muddled shapes of the enemy. They were preparing defenses too, and had the advantage of high ground. A tall hill was being reinforced with a redoubt, a collection of logs stood on end that formed a protective shroud.

Thane arranged her army so that they were reinforcing the defensive line. Montel claimed to have started a rumor that many of the walking wounded from Manchester were embarrassed about their disfigurement, and would prefer it if the other units kept their distance. It didn’t seem like much of a gesture, but no one from the living army got too close to her ‘men’.

Since she was part of the command structure, Thane was allowed to attend the war council in Stark’s tent. It was a canvas monstrosity, big enough for Stark’s full sized desk, several chests of coin, and the General’s personal bedding. Stark greeted her with a smile, but his other commanders were less than thrilled with the prospect of a female officer.

“Pardon me for saying so, General Stark, but you been eatin’ the red berries?” Asked Samuel Safford. A stout, thickly muscled man, he had a ridge of callus on his right hand so thick it sounded as if he held a rock in palm when he slapped the table.

“Calm yourself, Master Safford,” Stark said, holding up a hand. “Thane has proven herself to be a capable field commander.”

“She looks half dead to me,” Geoffrey Swimming Bear said. Taller than even Safford, Swimming Bear had a barrel chest that tapered to a waspish waist. He was a chief’s son of the Stockbridge tribe, who were known to fight for both Colonists and British alike depending on the pay scale. “But Stark is my White Chief, and if he says Swimming Bear must follow Raven Hair, then so be it.”

“Raven hair?” Thane chuckled. With the strain of keeping her army ‘alive,’ she had as much gray as black. “Guess I can deal with that.”

“Well, I ain’t much for followin’ a skirt,” Safford huffed.

“She will command the volunteers, not your Green Mountain Boys.” Stark’s eyes narrowed, and his lips twitched. “I trust that you can manage your duties in spite of your distaste for my command decisions.”

“Yeah, well just between you and me, your militia men ain’t looking so hot,” Safford said. “I don’t even know how some of them are up walking, let alone fighting.”

“Necessity is fuel to their flame,” Stark said, spreading his hands. “When the battle begins, they will not be found wanting.”

Stark moved on as if the matter was settled, though Safford kept giving Thane the stink eye. The council decided there would likely be no fighting until the rain stopped. Neither side could fire their black powder weapons reliably under such conditions. Safford took over the debate, claiming he wanted to build their own defenses.

“All I’m saying, is they have that damn log castle halfway built and we ain’t even dug a trench yet!”

“The men will be better served by getting rest tonight,” Stark said. “The redoubt at the top of the hill is of little consequence.”

Safford started to argue, but Swimming Bear cut him off.

“You have a plan,” he said, nodding at Stark. Then he crossed his arms over his bare chest and waited patiently. She was reminded of Montel for some reason.

Who knows, this guy might be his ancestor.

“Yes.” Stark’s severe features were softened by a smile. “Yes, I do have a plan.”

“Wanna let the rest of us in on it, General?” Safford asked, leaning on the General’s desk.

“Have you not noticed how weak the Dragoon line is?” Stark stared toward the North, though he couldn’t see through the canvas any more than the rest of them. “It will be easy to outflank them.”

“There’s not much cover,” Swimming Bear said “how can our troops get close enough for a flanking maneuver?”

“With this.”

Stark placed a rolled up bit of white paper on the table before them, not much bigger than a coat button.

“Is this a joke?” Safford picked it up and sniffed it. “What, is this a cannon fuse?”

“No, just a simple slip of paper,” Stark said. “As it turns out, the German Dragoons have been told that Loyalist soldiers will be wearing these in their hats.”

“Wait a sec,” Safford said “you want to go and do something sneaky like that? That’s something a, a low down dirty snake would do.”

“Snakes often strike both first—and last,” Stark said. “Would you rather I allow our boys to be cut to ribbons by musket fire? You of all people should appreciate a little deception. Are not your Green Mountain Boys quite skilled at ambuscade?”

“That’s...that’s different.” Safford’s expression belied his words, and he seemed to sink within himself.

“What do you know of the British Chief?” All eyes turned to Swimming Bear. “Is he a man of courage? Can we expect a charge, or will he break at the first sight of blood?”

“Friderich Baum is skilled and battle tested,” Stark said “however, he is not a master strategist like his superior Burgoyne. We can expect standard tactical deployments as well as vehement determination from him.”

“What about you, Swimming Bear?” Thane asked. She almost fainted when all of them turned to face her. “There’s a lot of Indians on the other side. Won’t you be...I don’t know, conflicted?”

Swimming Bear smiled, a grin full of sadistic spirit that killed any resemblance to Montel.

“Red man has been killing Red man for many moons before your folk came over the vastdeep water,” he said coldly. “The more Indians we kill today, the less will join the British tomorrow.”

“Well, I’m all for charging their lines right now, by God!” Safford said. “My boys are itching for a fight, Stark. When we gonna get to bust chops?”

Stark’s nostrils flared, and she caught a glimpse of the tiger beneath the gilded coat.

“Would you go now, on this dark and rainy night?” Stark asked, his voice rising. “Go back to your people and tell them to get some rest if they can, and if the Lord sees fit to give us sunshine on the morrow and I DO NOT give you fighting enough, I will never call on you to come again.”

His words seemed to quell Safford’s inner fire. The big man gave a curt nod.

“Now, please leave me,” Stark said. “Not you, Thane.”

Once they were alone, Stark poured himself a glass of brandy. After offering Thane a glass, which she declined, he sat staring at the amber fluid for a time, swirling it.

“I take it you’re not a fan of spirits,” Stark said. It took her a moment to realize he was speaking of alcohol and not the recently dead.

“It just doesn’t work on me, is all,” she said. “I’m not judging you or anything.”

Stark’s brows rose in amusement.

“And why would you judge me for imbibing spirits? Never mind, I know your ways are...different. The thing about Brandy is this; So many things have to go just right to make it possible. From aging to storage and transport, the process can go awry a hundred different ways. Battles are much the same, as well as the larger wars which they comprise.”

Thane tried to stay attentive, despite her weariness. It seemed Stark was trying to tell her something, and not about brandy.

“Tomorrow you will lead your forces to outflank the enemy,” Stark paused, then chuckled. “If the rain lets up. I have no doubt you are capable, but I fear for my other soldiers. Will your...army of the dead not turn on them as well?”

“They’re not monsters, General.” Thane sighed, pressing her palms into her eye sockets. All she wanted to do was lay down. “They’re very generous people, letting us use their bodies for a little while. Plus, they were volunteers one and all. They know who the enemy is...and who it isn’t.”

“I see.” Stark swallowed his drink and set about gathering parchment and quill. It seemed like quite a hassle to write with a feather dipped in ink, but Stark’s script was graceful and precise.

“Writing out new orders?” Thane asked.

“No, this is a letter to my wife, Molly. I always write one the night before a battle.”

“Oh.” Thane struggled with herself, trying to force words past her lips. “Are...I mean, does your wife....how do you two deal with the fact that you could die at any time?”

“Simple,” Stark said “I don’t concentrate on the dying. I concentrate on the living! I may be getting older but I’m spry enough. There’s life in the old boy, yet!”

Thane laughed at his broad smile and bravado.

“I’m not gonna bet against you!” she said.

Thane stopped at the large tent commandeered by Bast for their little troupe. Franklin was there as well, though he spent most of his time slumbering in a chair.

“We’re going to run through it one more time,” Bast said, eliciting groans from every throat but Thane’s.

“Aw, come on, we know this crap!” James said.

“Then it won’t be hard to go over it again.” Bast turned his one-eyed gaze on Chui and Faraday. “Chui?”

“Oh, uh...” Chui straightened up a bit, stifled a yawn. “I’m supposed to keep the Armonica primed and tuned.”

“My job is keeping lookout for ESX,” James said. “Hopefully I’ll see it coming in time.”

Creepy pulled on his sleeve, looking rather miffed.

“Oh, sorry,” James said with a grin “Rashemi is going to help me keep a look out with her little friends.”

“My objective is to make sure that Stark survives the battle,” Montel said.

“And I’ll be leading the army,” Thane said.

She hadn’t intended it to be a boastful statement, but it seemed to fire up her companions.

“Yeah,” James said, pumping his fist in the air “we’re going to kick some ass!”

“Soldiers who can’t die are hard to beat,” Montel said with a wide smile.

“Can you keep them together that long?” Bast’s tone was casual, but his stare was intense.

“Yeah, I can keep it up for another day or so...after that, I’m not so sure.”

“You shouldn’t have to. Tomorrow is August fifteenth, the date history says Stark was victorious.”

Bast punctuated his statement with a grim nod.

“Just one day.” Thane sighed. “I can manage.”

“I’ll get you some more nourishment,” Bast said.

Where do you keep finding all these brains? Thane wanted to shout, but she was simply too exhausted to speak. So she nodded and sat down heavily next to Franklin.

“Should he still be here?” She jabbed a thumb at his snoring face. “I mean, we don’t really need him, and he’s just as important to history as Stark is.”

“He insisted,” Chui said. “He wants to be close by to record this incident for posterity.”

“He can’t do that!” Thane turned to see James’s ugly scowl. “We’re supposed to be AVOIDING any kind of record of our actions! Otherwise we’d just have Faraday blow the crap out of the British.”

“They’re mostly German mercenaries,” Montel said.

“Whatever!” Thane snapped. “You know what the hell I mean, you bearded dork!”

“I believe that Franklin intends to make a record for his secret society only,” Bast said.

“Is that...is that cool?” Thane asked.

After a long, tense moment, Montel laughed.

“Oh, you guys,” he said between snickers “how do you know that Franklin isn’t SUPPOSED to keep a record? It’s a secret society; Maybe we never made it into the history books BECAUSE he was here.”

“We have bigger concerns,” Bast said. “As soon, and I mean as soon as this battle is concluded, we are going home. I assume you have the Armonica figured out enough for that?”

He turned to Chui, who swallowed hard. The Latino stared a Franklin for a time, then nodded.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You think so?” The words spilled from Thane’s mouth before she even realized it. She couldn’t die, but being lost in time was enough to terrify her.

“I mean, I know so!”

“Chui...”

“No, it’s fine, Thane. The Armonica works like a musical instrument, and what is music but a form of language? I’ve got this.”

Thane approved of the confidence in Chui’s eyes, and enjoyed the way Faraday looked on him with new respect. Truly she did.

She just hoped that his confidence wasn’t misplaced.

“Don’t forget that we have to take ESX and...and Kass back with us,” Thane said “we can’t leave them here to pollute the past.”

“Montel, that will be your objective once it is obvious the battle is done,” Bast said. “Use a shotgun to obliterate the head first.”

Thane bit her lower lip. She wanted to deny Bast’s grim outlook, but what was Kass’s life compared to existence itself? Montel paled several shades but gave a curt nod.

“Everyone has their objectives. Are there any questions?” Bast looked around the tent, ending with Thane. “Then everyone should get their sleep. Dismissed.”

Thane lingered as the rest of her companions departed. Creepy seemed as if she wanted to stay, but James quietly took her hand and led her away. Bast and Thane stared at each other for a long time. Then she started laughing.

“What is it?” Bast sounded annoyed, but there was a ghost of a smile on his face as well.

“Oh, it’s just...” she sighed “I’ve been waiting so long to say those three words to you, and now that I have there doesn’t seem to be anything else to say.”

“There’s plenty left unsaid.” Bast stood up slowly, approached until he was quite close.

“Yeah,” Thane tugged at the buttons on his collared shirt. “There is at that. Maybe there’s nothing to say because we don’t need words right now...”

His palm was soft against her cheek. She raised her chin and met his kiss with one of her own. The gentle pitter patter of rain against the tent continued well into the night.