Mitchell Smith - Moonrise

They marched hungry, and cold in a north wind – the short-summer seeming left behind on their last mountain to the south. Baj pictured some beast roasting over a hidden fire's careful coals, once they were in the new northern hills.

He managed to imagine the taste of the wild meat fairly well as he marched along. Hot, oily, rank, and wonderful.

Mud and gravel gritted under their moccasin-boots. The stars – brilliant now as sunlit powder snow – shone not quite enough for shadows. Baj heard Errol strolling out to the left, watched Nancy's bobbing pack just before him – then almost walked into her as she suddenly stopped. Richard, bulk barely seen, stood still in front of her.

"What is it?" Baj climbed a low shelf of grassy drift… came up beside him.

There was a shallow run-off creek lying across their way, frosted by star-light.

"How deep?" Baj said – then saw the creek was no creek at all, but a narrow roadway running east and west, straight as a taut rope, its crushed limestone-gravel shining white.

"The Warm-time road?"

"The WT pathway," Richard said, keeping his voice low, "- if it was here – lies buried deep."

"Yes… of course." Baj stepped down to the road, knelt and touched the surface. "Fine-broken, tamped hard, and ditched. This is a Kingdom road, a best road – but our people never came so far!"

"Best," Richard said, "- but new, and no Kingdom road. We traveled our way south to the west of here, and saw nothing like it."

And as if his words had called a demon-Great, the softest chuff chuff chuff sounded on the wind, as though a giant's boots were scuffing down the pass.

They stood still, listening, as the sound, steady as the beat of blood, first faded as the wind swung away… then grew louder.

Light – a dazzle of yellow light flashed suddenly from the west down the limestone road – and as they stood watching, grew brighter while the giant boots seemed to scuff and kick their way along.

"An engine of machinery." Baj's heart was thumping, thumping. "It's a Warm-time engine, pushed by cramped steam!"

"No," Richard said, "- it isn't."

"Back!" Nancy clutched their packs, yanked them so hard that Baj stumbled. "Back…!"

They retreated over mud and flood-trash.

"Down," Richard said. "Lie down."

"Errol." Nancy called softly as she could. "Errol…!"

Now the yellow light and chuff chuff chuffing had come nearly to them, was just down the moonlit limestone way – and looking over the mud shelf, Baj saw Errol suddenly come into the glare like a moth due for dying – come onto the limestone road and go dancing down it, glowing gold as the boot-sound, stomp and scuff, grew loud as right-beside, with the rolling grind of big wheels turning.

"Errol!" Nancy was up and would have run to him, but Baj caught her ankle, tripped her, and wrestled to hold her down. He put his hand over her mouth, and was bitten – then Richard was beside him, and together they held her still.

"Shhh…" Baj whispered in her ear. "Shhh, sweetheart." The second time he'd said that foolish thing.

An easy stone's-toss away, Errol stood still, blinking into blazing yellow. There was sudden silence on the limestone road – no heavy rhythmic noises, no motion. Glancing to the left, Baj saw behind the light's shimmering halo, a shape huge as forty Richards.

Time seemed to beat and pulse with the yellow right – from a great mirrored lamp, certainly. Errol stood staring, mouth open, apparently amazed.

Then, barely, by what the lamp allowed of star-light, Baj saw silhouettes of many men – certainly men – climbing down from the big thing. One of them called out, "Do you question?"

Errol stood staring into the light, and Baj saw a weasel's silver circles of reflection in his eyes.

"Do you question?"

Richard said, as if to himself, "Jesus-the-Christ," then heaved to his feet and called, "He doesn't question – doesn't speak!"

Silence. Then the man said, "Come out. And explain why you were hiding from Manifestation."

Richard muttered, "Be careful," as Baj and Nancy stood to join him. "… and ask no questions."

"The burning…" Nancy whispered, and once she had, Baj smelled – from the huge thing on the road, the men standing by it – the faintest drift, almost a smoky memory of fire.

Baj considered for an instant taking Nancy and fading back into the dark – then thought of Richard left alone with those people, and decided not. Doubted Nancy would go, in any case. His hand hurt; she'd bitten deep into the meat of his thumb… second time biting him…

He stood and followed Richard over the mud shelf, then stepped down, Nancy right behind, into golden light where a man stood in almost silhouette, other men in the darkness behind him. He held a long, dark, heavy stick – part wood, perhaps part iron.

"Why," the man said, "- do Persons and a human appear to travel the Demonstration Road?"

Baj saw the man's white beard as he spoke. An old man, holding a weighty, polished stick.

"We didn't know it was your road," Baj said. "We intend only to cross it… and mean no harm."

"To appear to cross it, is to appear to travel it," the old man said, "- and damage the demonstration."

"Then," Nancy said, "- we'll go around." One of the men behind the lamp's dazzle laughed.

"But this boy -" the old man pointed with his heavy stick, "- this… what is he, a sort of Person? He already appears to stand on it."

"An offense may be put right," Richard said.

"It's best put right, apparent Made-man, by ripping up our road and paving again – at least where he seems to stand. And where you three seem to stand."

"I wish," Richard said, "- we had time enough to help do that."

Several of the lamp-shadowed men laughed. "Your help would not be acceptable," the old man said, and turned fully into the light to murmur something to a man behind him.

"Floating Jesus… " Baj had said it before he'd thought. The old man was wearing dark long-leg cloth trousers and a buttoned dark jacket to match. His shirt was white cloth, with a turned-down collar – and under it, a narrow red neckerchief was knotted, that hung below his beard. His shoes were laced low, and made of black, waxed leather… He might have been a copybook sketch from Warm-times, torn from an ancient page to walk and talk again.

The old man stared at Baj. "Do you have a question, apparent boy?"

"I'm no boy," Baj said – then remembered Richard's murmur: "No questions." "And I have no questions."

The old man stared at him a few moments more, then said, "All of you will seem to come and follow us for discussion – but not appearing to walk on our road."

"And if we prefer to go on our way?" Nancy gripped Errol's arm to hold him still.

"That rudeness," the old man said, "- so close to real, would call for actual demonstrations by Winchesters, Springfields, and Remingtons."

Baj supposed those named were the families of the men with him. Fighting men, apparently, and with kinsmen to back them in trouble… The odor of burning was in the night air with the Shadow-men. Their huge road-traveler shifted behind them, gravel ground beneath it.

"Seem to follow," the old man said. "But walk to the side of our road. To touch it again, would be the same as a question." He walked back out of the lamp's harsh yellow light, the others with him, and Baj saw their dark shapes climbing up onto the big thing, which, after no apparent signal, began again that stomping shuffle, chuff… chuff… and moved, its great wheels crunching over gravel, east down the Pass I-Seventy.

… By star-light and lamp-light, Richard led carefully alongside the roadway, walking fast to keep up with the thing and its burden of men. Nancy kept a grip on Errol's arm.