William Dietz - The Seeds of Man

A layer of gun smoke hung in the air. Lora could taste it. She struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. “No.”

“Throw her into the hole,” Voss ordered. “Oh, and send a message to Mrs. Winters… We’re going to need a maid over here. There’s blood on the floor.”

Most of the gang were still asleep when Tre rolled out of bed, got dressed, and went looking for something to eat. Spartan though the hideout was, it felt good to be back, especially with about four tons of newly acquired weaponry stashed deep in the main mine shaft.

Now, looking back on it, Tre figured that finding the container had been the easy part. Then came the task of finding and buying the animals and wagons required to move eight tons of arms and equipment, a process that took the better part of two weeks. But that wasn’t all. Once under way, Crow’s bandits had to protect their wealth from other bandits—like the band of wild men who attacked the wagon train west of Soda Springs.

The men were mounted on good horses and naked to their waists, so as to show off the intricate tattoos that covered their arms and torsos. There was nothing subtle about the attack. Just wild screams followed by an all-out charge as groups of riders tried to surround individual wagons and cut them off from the rest.

Primitive though the strategy was, it might have worked had it not been for the fact that Crow’s gang was better armed. And they had learned something from the defeat in they’d suffered weeks earlier. Two of the wagons were armed with light machine guns, and once the tarps were removed, the wild men began to die. Horses screamed as they went down. Some of the riders jumped free but were torn apart as they tried to run. “Kill them!” Crow shouted. “Kill them or they will bring more bandits down on us.”

Horrible though it was, everyone knew Crow was correct. So Tre, Knife, and the scouts rode the fugitives down. Finally, when the bloody business was finished, all the attackers were dead. It would have been nice to bury the bodies and thereby erase all signs that a battle had taken place, but they lacked the time and manpower necessary to do so.

The final leg of the journey was arduous as well. After crossing the Caribou Mountains at night, they’d had to hide the cargo for three days while selling the wagons and buying mules. Once that task was accomplished, they still had to complete the trip to the mine, a nerve-wracking journey that left everyone exhausted.

That’s why Hog was the only other person present as Tre entered the so-called cafeteria. “Morning,” the cook said cheerfully. “The larder’s kinda low until we buy more food. But I can offer you some fresh cornbread and hot water for tea.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Tre replied. “Thank you.” After collecting his breakfast, Tre sat down at one of the wooden tables and opened a copy of The Three Musketeers .

Crow arrived three minutes later. That was a surprise since he rarely made an appearance before ten o’clock. His hair was tousled and the bandit leader was dressed in a tattered bathrobe and cowboy boots. “There you are,” Crow said as he dropped onto a chair. Then, having eyed the book, he nodded. “My favorite character is Aramis.”

“I like d’Artagnan,” Tre replied.

“Of course you do,” Crow said indulgently. “But you’ll have to put him on hold.”

“Why?”

“Remember the plan? The one you never stop needling me about?”

“Yes.”

“Now we have the weapons required to fight Voss. What we lack is the manpower. And for an effort like ours, we can’t hire people. Not if we want real change.”

“So we’ll recruit people.”

“That could work,” Crow agreed. “But it would take a lot of time. So I have something else in mind. An approach that will strike a blow for freedom, build our reputation, and provide us with the army we need.”

Tre slipped a scrap of paper into the book and put it down. If Crow was going to get up off his butt, that was a good thing. “Okay, what’s the plan?”

“There’s a tech lord named Jeremy Kimble,” Crow replied. “He runs a garbage mine in what used to be Idaho Falls. And from what I hear it’s very profitable. So much so that he has a hundreds of slaves digging the stuff out of the ground while more people work to clean and refurbish anything that still has value.”

“So?”

“So we could raid the place, free the slaves, and turn some of them into soldiers.”

Tre looked at Crow with a renewed sense of respect. “That’s why you hid half the weapons on the west side of the Caribou Mountains. Closer to Idaho Falls.”

Crow nodded. “That and the fact that it would be stupid to keep our arsenal in one place.”

“Okay,” Tre said. “That makes sense. We free and arm them. When do we leave?”

“Not so fast,” Crow replied. “Kimble will have plenty of mercs. You can count on that. And remember… Our army, if any, is off in the future. We’ll be outnumbered when we attack. Yes, our weapons will help to even the odds, but it will still be difficult.”

Crow smiled. “Unless the slaves revolt at the same time we attack, that is… Then things will be different. That would require putting someone on the inside, of course. A person who could lead the revolt.”

Tre looked around and realized that Hog was out of earshot and had been throughout. Crow had chosen to speak solely to him. Why? The answer scared him. “Why me?” Tre demanded. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

“No,” Crow replied gravely. “You’re my conscience. I need you. But you’re also the best man for the job. You’re smart, tech savvy, and people like you. Besides, I plan to send Knife as well. It will be his job to keep you alive.”

Tre noticed the use of the word “man” and wondered if Crow was pandering. If so, there was no sign of it in his eyes. “And the rest of the gang?”

“I’ll tell them when they need to know.”

Tre nodded. The security measure made sense.

“I’ll give you four weeks,” Crow said. “Then we’ll attack. Finish your breakfast, though… You’re going to need your strength..”

Tre, Knife, and Smoke left the next morning. The plan was for the men to leave their good weapons with Smoke once they reached the outskirts of Idaho Falls. Her job was to watch the mining operation from the outside and gather as much information as she could, intel she would pass to Crow when the rest of the gang arrived.

After the threesome made their way down out of the mountains, they followed Highway 89 north to Alpine, where they turned onto Highway 26 westbound. During the next couple of days they passed through Palisades, Irwin, and Swan Valley all without incident. Except for some grenades, or “equalizers,” as Smoke referred to them, they weren’t carrying military-grade weapons, because to do so might attract the wrong sort of attention—which was to say any attention whatsoever.

But they were still well armed, and that plus the way they carried themselves was sufficient to deter the drifters, highwaymen, and part-time bandits who made a living by preying on the weak. They arrived on the outskirts of Idaho Falls around noon on the third day. It wasn’t pretty. A firestorm had consumed the city at some point during the disastrous civil war. The result of a bombing mission, perhaps. Tre knew that both sides of the conflict had been guilty of targeting population centers. Not that it made any difference. What was, was.

That didn’t mean the city was empty of human life. Tre suspected that there were plenty of people living in the ruins, a fact that would make the next few weeks challenging for Smoke. But the scout was very good at what she did—and as hard to capture as the substance she was named for.