At the Midway (73 page)

"This isn't how we're organized," Slayton groused.  "It isn't how we've trained."

"Listen up, all of you!  We're dealing with something men have probably seen before, but never lived to tell.  Or were never believed.  What I can tell you we're
not
dealing with is a pack of geniuses.  They can be shrewd sometimes.  But they can be stupid as dogshit, too."

He told them his plan.

Playing sleight-of-hand with an enemy was old hat.  What scared the men in the four improvised companies was the cost.  Ziolkowski wanted them to buy time--the most expensive thing in the temporal world.  They would be risking their lives for something no one could see: an amorphous chart of things to come.  They listened to the sergeant because he was offering a gamble better than certain death.

And then the Japanese came racing into their ranks.

"It's coming from the north!" Ziolkowski shouted, putting a rein on the sudden fear and confusion.  Now was the most critical moment for the Top.  In a trice he had to decide who was the most capable of leading the four companies he'd created.  Instinct and experience fused in a miraculous instant.

"You.  Redhead.  Do you know your signals?  Good.  You're red.  Take A Company to that hill and form a file.  You with the buck teeth.  Do you know your signals?  Good.  You're green.  Take B Company and form up at the distillery.  Try to stay hid behind the dunes.  Both of you--when you hear the center firing, hold back.  No firing until you get the signal.  Advance on the flank.  Nothing fancy.  If it charges you, run like hell.  The other two companies stay with me. Slayton!  Get the gun crew to the compound."

The first two companies dispersed east and west.

"Where are my signalmen?"

Two sailors ran up, each carrying bamboo poles.

"Start hooking them up," Ziolkowski ordered.

The signalmen began fitting the poles end to end as the island shuddered.  The sailors' hands shook and their fingers knotted.  Simple pre-made slots suddenly became impossibly complicated.  The sergeant didn't help when he yelled, "Hurry, dammit!  You know how fast that bastard'll be when he starts inland.  Ziolkowski gave a quick eye to his men as the serpent loomed up on the beach.  He could see more than one of them going creamy at the knees.

"Private Enderfall!"

"Yeah, Top?"

"You will shoot any man who rabbits without orders."

There was no time for Enderfall to protest that his hands would be full with Ziolkowski's stretcher.  The two companies retreated inland and took up positions around the compound.

Ziolkowksi felt his litter juggle.  He could not turn to see what William was up to, but the look on Enderfall's face said it was no good.

"Come here... help me!" William shouted. "Before it's too late!"

"He's tying himself to the litter," Enderfall informed the sergeant.

"That's what he said he would do."  Ziolkowski glanced towards the beach.  The creature had paused, taking in the entire island with its high
-
perched eyes.

"I'm missing half my hand.  I have to tie myself to the stretcher."

Ziolkowski suddenly regretted dragooning the boy into this predicament.  "We'll get someone else
-
-
"

"No!"  William moved to where Ziolkowksi could see him.  "There's nothing else I can do.  I can't pull a trigger.  But I've got enough arm to tie a strap to.  I'm not going to stand by and do nothing.  If you leave me to it, I'll just walk up and kick it."

He jerked his head in the direction of the creature.  Ziolkowski gave him a long look.  The knobby bandage on his arm was already splotched with blood.  Even in the blaring sunlight the boy's face was pale.  He was burly enough, if gaunt.  But something ineffable had been drained from him.  He reminded Ziolkowski of lepers he'd seen in on the China Station, their steady acceptance of death--almost a desire for it.  So much at odds with the manic fear of the marines around him, including the hapless Enderfall.  They had the same look the sergeant had seen on men trapped in palmetto scrub when an invisible enemy directed shouts and bullets from all directions.  There wasn't a man on the island who wasn't swimming in a piss
-
pool of terror.  William was no exception. But none possessed an angel
-
glow of hate like the boy's.

"You don't know what kind of pain you're asking for."

"Sir, someone once told me
-
-
no, he showed me
-
-
the world's just a ball of hate.  That's how it started, that's what keeps it going.  The monsters prove it.  If God was a monster, we'd have to do our best to kill Him, even if it killed us, too.  If I don't do my part, what good am I?"

"Son, you're over my head and I think you're over your own head."

"There's no time."

It would have been a small matter to call another man over from the compound.  But Ziolkowski was swayed by the boy's emotion.  He nodded at Enderfall. "Help hitch him up."

While the private bound William's wrist to one of the stretcher poles, Ziolkowski kept a steady eye on the creature.  It swayed as it sniffed at the air, just as the two smaller creatures had done.  One might have thought it was an aimless habit, like a man drumming his fingers while in thought.

"She'll come to the bunker.  There's meat in there that's been cooking all day.  They'll scavenge.  I saw them eat dead donkeys that were swelled up fat by the sun.  Get your ass moving, Enderfall!  It's heading in."

Enderfall scurried to the front of the litter and they carried Ziolkowski the short distance to the compound.  With his head propped on a roll of canvas, Ziolkowski could not look up into William's face, but he could hear the boy's heavy panting.  He wondered if he was unfit to carry heavy loads, aside from his ruined hand.  Then the sergeant realized these were sharp, involuntary gasps of pain.  He made no comment.  Let the boy admit his mistake, and they would untie him.  Meanwhile, Ziolkowski was more concerned that the creature might see the two groups of men moving into position on both of its flanks.

Up and down the line men worked their bolts.  Two things kept the majority of them from running: Ziolowski's threat and, more cogently, the fact that there was really no place to run.  The bunker provided grim testament to the futility of trying to hide.

William and Enderfall had rested the sergeant's litter at the edge of the compound. The boy sat by Ziolkowski's head.  He showed no inclination to free his arm and offered no comment on his pain.  His desperate hatred glowed.  It was like the only thing he owned, something to be polished assiduously.

"Okay, boys," he told the men ranked before him.  "I want some whooping and hollering from you.  You know, devil-may-care.  You all know about devil-may-care.  You marines should.  Say hello to the bastard and invite him in.  I want to be a proper host."

Briefly, they gaped at him.  This sure as hell wasn't in the manual of arms.  Finally, some of them managed a few faint yells.

"A dog pissing on cabbage sounds louder than that!"

The shouting became general.  Ziolkowski nodded his satisfaction when the serpent leaned in their direction.

"Louder!"

The creature shuffled forward about twenty yards.

A steady creaking came from the right.  Rolling as far as he could to his side, Ziolkowski was treated to the sight of a giant cobra dancing high into the air.  Then he shook off his confusion and stared at the balloon overhead, almost invisible against the hazy
-
bright backdrop.  He followed the anchor line back to earth.  No one was tending the winch.

"Slayton!  Get that balloon down,
fast
!  I'm going to refuse the center."

"What are you trying to do, Top?" Enderfall quailed.

"I want him to get a whiff."

"Of us?"

"Something even better.  All that nice meat roasting in the sun.  Back at the bunker."

"Oh God--"

"Shut up.  He's taking the bait."

"He's charging!"

The creature was trundling past Mt. Pisgah.   Just as Ziolkowski had predicted, it was making a beeline for the human flesh roasting under Midway's relentless sun.

"By file!  D Company, fire!"

A volley rang out.

"C Company!  Fire!"

Another volley.

"Signal A Company to advance."

Up went the rectangular signal flags on their long, segmented poles.

"Fall back, double-quick," Ziolkowski shouted.  Looking up at Enderfall and the steward, he waved at his stretcher.  "If you two don't mind...."

The creature's impetus was irresistible, even to itself.  Though it seemed briefly distracted by the gunfire, it was coming on at a terrific pace, its rear flippers throwing huge swipes of sand as it kicked itself forward.

"I said fall back, goddammit.  I didn't say
run
.  Keep firing!"

As they hurried past the compound, Ziolkowski craned his head towards Mt. Pisgah.  A Company had appeared.  They weren't exactly charging.  Instead, they forced their way through a thick mud of reluctance.  It was enough, however.  Whirling in surprise, the creature stopped its charge, giving C and D Companies time to form up on the perimeter next to the three-pounder.

Enderfall and William slipped and fell.  The sergeant was about to lavish them with livid curses of pain when something bulbous floated into his vision.

"Slayton!  Goddammit, I told you to get that balloon down!"

Breathless, the corporal ran up to the litter.  "We can't.  The wind's pushed him towards the lagoon.  If we pull him in he'll lose altitude.  Sit up, Sergeant, and you'll see.  He's right over the monster."

1032 Hours

When the creature rose on the beach the Japanese manning the winch had let out line, apparently with the idea of putting Lieber far beyond the reach of the monster's long neck.  Obviously, none of them had considered he might want to do battle from the air, though he thought he'd made his intentions clear when he loaded the car with rifles and ammunition.  Now, he was left helpless before something far larger than the creature: the wind.

By spreading his hand, he could fit the creature between his thumb and middle finger.  He had wanted a close shot at its eyes.  So much for confronting it face to face.  He watched the marines below deploy in three directions.  The largest group occupied the compound, near the winch.  Was it their intention to protect the aeronaut?  If the creature snared the anchor line, he would be in serious trouble.  He considered reaching for the lower valve and releasing some of the coal gas.  But with so much line let out, he would probably swing out and land in the ocean.

Instead, he hefted a grenade.

A brutal gust sent the car into a vertiginous spin.  Its suddenness destroyed his seeming immunity to air sickness.  Just before throwing up, he offered a grim smile to the frigate birds skimming past him.  If Ace could see him now!

The balloon wobbled like a ball of catnip.  It dropped precipitously, then swung out over the lagoon.  Grabbing hold of each side of the gondola, he pulled himself to his feet.  The grenade he'd been holding bounced against his foot and he thanked his stars he had not clapped the fuse.

He was looking at Eastern Island.  Moving slowly, he turned to face Sand.  To help get his bearings, he followed the anchor rope down with his eyes.   It dawned on him he was about a hundred feet lower than before, which was not good… because the monster was in the compound.  The large third of the landing force was pulling back towards Midway's minuscule interior.  Dipping its head into the ruins of the bunker, the creature took in the odor of dead men. Its massive body rested flat on the winch.

The marines on the right continued to move in.  Ever so slowly, but with enough nuisance value to cause the creature to turn
-
-
catching more line in the process.

The balloon dropped twenty feet in an instant and the car snapped up.  Only by grabbing the hemp struts was Lieber saved from being flung into space.

One more like that and the balloon would be torn apart.  Swiftly, he pulled out his pocket knife and sawed at the anchor rope.  The creature was twisting in confusion as A Company attacked its flank.

Another--

Jolt!
  The balloon was thrown in a wild circle.  Lieber felt his jaw lurch after his chin.  His eyes were crossed by the violence of the movement.  He was dazzled by his ability to keep hold of the knife.  Or was it luck?  If so, the luck ended as far as the rest of his equipment was concerned.  All straps had broken and everything had fallen out.  Gun, ammo, rations.

He returned to the captive line with a vengeance.  Finally, it was severed.

And Lieber found himself floating over the southeast channel of the lagoon.  Out to sea.

He saw the jagged remains of the young male Tu-nel.  Even in death, it was so enormous a modest charnel house would have fit under its ribs.  The great center was gutted, but skin still clung to its neck and head.  Its eyes had collapsed into sad twin hollows.  Lieber only briefly wondered how it had ended up this way on an isolated coral outcrop.  He was more interested in the long black cloud to the north.