Neal Barrett - Through Darkest America

He looked up at her. A Boomer hit somewhere down the street and shook the earth. “I owe you, Kari. I can’t tell you how I feel ’bout what you done. Coming down and getting me out and all. But I don’t feel like doin’ nothing about it, Kari, and I don’t figure you got no need waiting around for me any longer.”

Her eyes showed shocked disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if you want to go shootin’ someone and stealing horses, just get on about it.”

“I won’t, either,” she said fiercely, “not without you!”

The words wrapped around him like something warm and easy, for a moment, pulling the hurt right out of him. Why, she felt something for him! She honest to God did. It had taken a whole war to pull it out of her, but there it was.

“Kari…” He pulled himself up, fighting off the nausea that came with standing. “I’ll… try, Kari. I’ll give it the best I got, and I can’t do no more than that.” He looked at her. There was dirt on her face and her hair was tangled and powdered with dust, but he’d never wanted her more.

“I couldn’t let you down,” he said. “I just couldn’t. Not now.”

“Good,” said Kari. “I knew if you just thought about it you’d see it.”

“See… what?”

“Well that you owe me, Howie. Like you said. I wish we hadn’t had to waste so much time talking about it.”

He felt some better with pants on. The man had been killed when one of the Boomers exploded right beside him; there wasn’t much left of his head and the shirt was half torn away and blood-soaked, but the pants were all right. He didn’t care about the shirt, and boots were out of the question.

Kari held the pistol and kept an eye on the street while he changed. The way things were in the city, Howie didn’t figure anyone’d understand why he was stripping a dead body in the alley.

“I hope you don’t expect me to shoot anybody,” Kari complained, “because I told you I don’t know how to do that.”

“You did all right back there,” said Howie, trying to get his bad foot through a narrow trouser leg. “Just keep watching, okay?”

“That was different. It’s not the same when you can go up and just… touch somebody with it.”

“Kari…” He stood and took the gun from her. “Just shut up, all right?” He tucked the weapon in his pants and limped out of the alley.

“I don’t know what you’re so mad about,” said Kari. “You do that all the time. You want me to be like you, and I’m not, Howie.”

“You ain’t like anybody,” he said darkly, “you don’t need to worry none about that.” He stopped, glanced up at the sky, and pulled her back in a doorway. A Boomer arced high overhead. He followed its wobbly path; the big barrel hit beyond them and exploded. The ground shuddered. Black smoke roiled into the street.

Howie moved out of the doorway. “What I’m mad about is I don’t like bein’ used,” he told her. “You think someone’s doin’ something ’cause… Shit, you find out it ain’t that at all.”

“All right, Howie.”

“No!” He turned on her. “It ain’t all right. Comity’ down there and gettin’ me is one thing. Why is somethin’ else. Don’t you see that?”

She brushed hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t we talk about this? Do we have to do it again? We don’t have time, Howie.”

Howie glared down at his foot. It was throbbing again and starting to hurt something awful. “You wanted someone who could shoot and catch horses. That’s about it, ain’t it?”

“I told you,” Kari sighed, “I know everything there is to know about guns. But I don’t know how to use one. Is there anything wrong with that?”

Howie stopped and looked right at her. He could see her and hear her and touch her. But she wasn’t really there. Nothing had changed at all, and nothing ever would. He could see it, plain as day, and he wondered how long it took to get from seeing to really knowing.

The Rebels were in no hurry to occupy the city. Their great catapults were well out of range of government riflemen, and well-placed sharpshooters discouraged heroes from leaving the walls. Earlier, the Loyalists had mounted a desperate attack to put the Boomers out of action, but the Rebels were too much for them. The fields before the city were dark with the dead and dying.

Rumor had it that the troopers were dropping their weapons and fleeing the city through the north wall, leaving it to Lathan’s marauders. It might be true, Howie decided. You didn’t have to know too much about battles to see this one was lost. He wondered how many soldiers would get by the Rebels if they tried. Not many. It was pretty clear Lathan was determined to make this fight count for something.

The noise wasn’t so bad anymore. The Rebels had shifted their hail of destruction toward the center of the city. In the eastern sector, anyway, the streets were practically empty.

That was fine with Howie. He guided Kari past an alley choked with debris from the start of the battle. The broad avenue beyond was nearly impassable. The Boomers had hit buildings on both sides of the street, and the ancient structures had collapsed without a will. Howie took one look at the mess and turned back. They’d have to find another way.

“Wait,” Kari stopped him, “over there.”

He followed her gaze. Through a veil of black smoke was a portion of the wall. One section, a good five yards wide, had collapsed nearly to ground level. The stone on either side of the hole was dark with black powder and the fire that had come after. Kari started toward it without even looking back. Howie caught up and grabbed her arm. She frowned and jerked away.

“It’s a way out, Howie. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“It’s a way out if you want to get killed bad enough. Kari… you got the idea in that stubborn head of yours that you’re goin’ to get out , even if you get dead doing it.”

She fixed him with big, curious eyes. “You want to stay, Howie? I can see how you would, considering you had such a fine time here.”

“I got my eye took out,” he said sourly, “only it was a knife that done it. It wasn’t no Boomer or a rifle bullet. You ain’t making any sense, as usual.”

“I am to me.”

“Well you’re—” The noise turned him around quickly. He took one look behind him and jerked her back around the corner.

“What is it?”

He didn’t answer. He limped back over the short block, crossed the street, and angled down a narrow alley toward the wall.

“Howie…”

“Just shut up, and listen. The way we come back there’s filled with Rebels. They must’ve got through another break further down.” He muttered under his breath. “They’re goin’ to be all over the damn place in about a minute. They see us wanderin’ around out here they ain’t goin’ to stop to talk.”

The little crease between her eyes started working. “Then we’ll have to go out through the wall.”

“And meet ’em comin’ in that way, too?”

“All right. What do you suggest, Howie?”

Howie ignored her. He imagined he could hear boots scraping on cobbled streets. They could stay where they were and get caught—or keep moving, and run right into more Rebels, for certain. Either way… He stopped, sniffing the air. There was sure something besides smoke and black powder in the air. Something a lot stronger than that. He moved to the end of the alley and risked a look. The smell was overpowering, now. A man didn’t even need one eye to track down an odor like that.

There were maybe a couple hundred head—bucks, mares, and even colts. They’d broken out of their pen somewhere and nobody’d bothered to round them up. They were scared stiff, cringing together against the high wall, eyes glazed with fear. From the look of them, they hadn’t eaten in days.