B. E. V. (21 page)

"What in the world are you making, Pop?" I asked, doing a slow walk around the smoking cylinders. "And what the heck is this?" I gestured to the contraption they built.

"These," Pop gestured to the tubes with pride, "are the beginnings of giant potato guns." He chuckled dubiously, "if they work right, I mean. We will see. And this," he motioned to their wooden monstrosity, "is called a trebuchet." He said to me, "You should know how this operates, remember?"

"A who?" Kat said. She and Roy sauntered over to a support, gazing into the air. "What does it do?" Kat asked.

"This," Pop banged on the long, upright arm, "is the same as a fishing rod." He stuck his hand up in the air. "The rope at the bottom with the metal sling is the line." He went over and slapped a huge chunk of concrete scavenged from the wrecked buildings, which hung from another rope acting as a counterweight. "We wench the arm down using the axil of the truck, this rises in the air, and we lock the arm in place. When we pull the trigger, the concrete drops, the arm whips forward, and whatever is in the sling is snapped around and thrown out into the air." He made a hurling motion as if casting a fishing rod. "If it works the way it's supposed to," he said with a laugh.

I wandered away while Pop continued to explain the operation of the trebuchet. Once he said its name and reminded me, I knew what he built. Pop and I made a miniature one two years ago and I knew how they worked. What threw me off was the mammoth size of the one they constructed.

More interesting was this, "potato gun" they were banging together. It was neat, but I couldn't imagine what we'd shoot at Morgan's men. Hash browns, maybe? I wanted to learn how they operated.

"Mr. Brennan, what are potato guns?" I smirked and made a lobbing motion, "We gonna shoot spuds at Morgan, or invite him to dinner?"

He shut off his torch and pushed back his mask. "No, not dinner," he replied, "and we're planning to shoot something more dangerous than potatoes – you can rest assured we will."

The metal cooled enough for me to touch one and run my fingers over the holes and open end. I asked, "How do they work, the same as a cannon? I've never seen one before."

Mr. Brennan picked up a cylinder and laid it on his lap. "They're not hard to use, see here." He touched the holes Pop drilled. "Basically we stick two screws through the openings, and connect wires to their tops, fill the pipe with propane, and jam in whatever we want to shoot, send a spark through the wires – Pow!" He slapped his hands together with a laugh. "Ignite the gas and off it goes, or at least this is the way it operates in principle."

"Where did you learn to make those, in the Middle Guard?" I asked. I couldn't imagine potato guns being part of their equipment.

He frowned. "I use to build these when I was a kid growing up, but never this big or powerful. In my day it was plastic piping and hairspray," he chuckled to himself, "and a real potato – was hit with one once – believe me, it hurt. I hope they don't burst apart on us. We'll see – still have to test each one."

"Wow!" He made potato guns sound identical to artillery pieces. I pictured charging soldiers on horseback with explosions in the air. "What are you gonna shoot?"

"What Roy is cooking up." He gestured to the other man, who was dropping crushed chlorine tablets into metal canisters. Alongside him, he had the cardboard cartons piled on top of each other filled with plastic bottles. Each contained a clear liquid. "Making chlorine bombs," Mr. Brennan said.

"Chlorine bombs? Never heard of those, either," I admitted. Bomb making wasn't one of the things we studied in chemistry class. "I guess they explode?"

"Oh, yes." Mr. Brennan's face changed into a grimace and he nodded. "Explodes and releases a poisonous gas. Nasty stuff I'm told, was used against the United States in a few wars on our troops." He sat the barrel of his potato gun down. "Hope they don't blow up before we're ready to use them."

"Me neither." I tried not to think about what would happen if all those tablets Roy used went off at once. I understood why he didn't want me too close. "Are those what you and Pop are gonna stick in the trebuchet?"

"No, well maybe, but we were planning on using big hunks of concrete." He waved at the rubble littering parts of the town. "We'll have plenty of ammunition."

I was skeptical and I guess it showed on my face. He added, "Get wacked with a hundred pound chunk of cement traveling fifty miles an hour, you'll know about it, right? Especially when it shatters and shoots little fragments of flying shrapnel."

He had a point.

By the evening, our traps were set and ready to use, the bombs Roy built and the potato guns, tested. Pop and Mr. Brennan had trouble adjusting their trebuchet, how to target it, and how far their concrete would fly, but they solved those problems too. Bill finished his connections and threw the switch to check if the grid worked.

It did.

After we'd debugged everything, and eaten, Kat and I took a stroll to the city wall to watch the sunset. We climbed up on top, enjoying the cool breeze and the chirping of birds before they roosted for the night.

Kat challenged me to a game of who-could-hit-the- bush-with-a-rock. After it became obvious I was winning, she lost interest and stared at the red sky. I continued, making five more hits with seven rocks. When it grew too dark to see, I aimed at the rats crawling out of the wall searching for food.

"Hunter, over there!" Kat clutched my arm and pointed into the distance. Off on the black horizon two faint lines of light shone, one along the west, the other stretching into the northeast – the glow from campfires.

Morgan's armies had arrived.

 

 

"Hunter, I think this was a bad idea." Kat licked her lips as we watched Bill from the wall double-checking his wire and connections. The sun was up and the early morning fog covering the field had burnt off.

"It seemed a pretty good plan to me." I scanned the horizon with a pair of binoculars I'd found in Bev's locker. The two rows of lights from last night were gone, replaced by smoke, which converged into a single long line. High above, a helicopter hovered – Black Morgan's command ship, directing the army's movement.

"Everything is ready to go. We give Morgan a bloody nose and run for the hills." I said in surprise, "Why? What's the matter?"

"Well, first of all,
we
aren't the ones who give Morgan a fight. Our dads and the other men are. We're supposed to stay out of this battle remember?" She squirmed on the block she sat on.

"This is what I meant."

"Yeah, until you decide to change your mind," she replied with a frown. "You know we're not supposed to get involved, right?"

"I promise." I held my hand up. I'd rather be fighting, or at least help the others defend the town. They were having us act wimpy, but I'd sworn to do what they said. I don't know where Kat got the idea I'd decided to do something else. "Our pops have everything laid out, and we've been over this a hundred times; lure Morgan's men to the front gate. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Another thing," she said, "Point two, Morgan isn't dumb. What if he doesn't take the bait and sends men downriver to sneak up behind us? They could be doing it right now and we'd never know, would we?"

Kat was acting really upset. She twisted around, glanced in the direction of the high school, as if soldiers floated down the river toward us on boats as we talked. "He might attack so fast we couldn't escape in time, have you ever thought of what would happen? What do we do?"

"We discussed it already, remember? Pop and the others abandon the boat and we all bail out in Bev," I replied. Kat was making me worried, too. The more she spoke the more shaken I became.

She snatched the binoculars out of my hands, fought neck strap out of her face, and shoved the glasses up against her eyes.

"Something else," she said, studying the horizon, "Doctor Krumboton gave us all those spider bombs. What good are they if we don't use one or two? You're the one who wanted to stay and fight. All we're going to do is sit and watch?" She put the glasses down, picked them up again, hesitated, and shoved them back into my lap.

"Will you make sense, please?" Kat was driving me nuts. First, she acted as if she wanted to run. Now she talked as if she was thinking about fighting. "You know you're making me crazy, don't you?"

To hide my confusion I scanned the horizon again with the glasses and checked the progress of the soldiers. "They're still advancing," I confirmed, more apprehensive than ever, "and I think, yeah, they have tanks."

"Oh, great."

"You kids better climb down from there!" Pop shouted to us and waved. "As soon as Bill finishes you have to go into your act and trick Morgan's men this way. Things will become hot around here soon."

"Okay, Pop," I shouted back. "Ready, Kat? Let's see if we can help."

We scrambled down. Pop, Mr. Brennan, and Roy waited for us. "You two better start moving," Mr. Brennan said. "Remember, one quick pass in front of the army and then straight back. You are to wait down by the river, understand?" He ticked off points on his fingers. "This way when it's time to scoot we'll be all together, okay?" His tone made it clear he didn't expect any argument.

"Do you want us to do anything before we leave?" I asked. I was hoping they'd changed their minds at the last minute and decided they needed us in the fight. "Help load, or make bombs? Anything?"

"No, too dangerous," Pop replied. "Do as we asked; a quick run out, up and down the wall so they see you, and zip right back inside." He said, serious, "As it is I don't enjoy exposing you to harm. You've been hurt enough already," he glanced at my leg, "and both of you are kids."

"Yeah, sure Pop, I understand." I said to Kat, "Let's get this over with and go hide."

We entered Bev and strapped ourselves down – I felt my face burning red.

Kat said, "Hunter? You know your dad didn't mean anything about your leg, don't you? He's worried about us, both our dads are. They want us to be safe."

"Yeah, sure," I muttered. "Bev? We ready to roll?"

"Rockin' and rollin', handsome," she replied. "Where to?"

"Take us outside the gate and straight for the army," I ordered.

"What?"

Kat gasped as if I'd lost my mind. "Our dads said –"

"Yeah, I know what they said," I replied. "I may be a cripple, but I can still fight. Bev, let's go before I change my mind."

Bev started. Kat muttered under her breath, "Oh. My. God." When we kept traveling away from the gate, Pop and Mr. Brennan waved at us from the top of the wall, letting us know we were heading the wrong way. They pointed left and right, and then cupped their hands and shouted. We passed Bill walking in and he watched us in shock, started running alongside, and banged on Bev's hull screaming for us to stop.

I ignored them all.

"Where are we going, handsome?" Bev chirped, "A stroll through the flowers to say hello to those nice men coming to visit?"

"Yeah, sort of – keep moving straight for the line of soldiers and machines." I tried not to think of what I was doing.

"Hunter, this is the stupidest thing –"

"Are they joining us for a party?" Bev asked as she sped up. "Let's invite them to a party, I love parties. I hope they've brought lots of presents for me."

"They're not here for a party, Bev," Kat said furiously. "Hunter's being a stupid jerk. He wants to fight those men all by himself."

I glanced out of the corner of my eye. Kat's face was a mask of terror.

"What? Hunter, I don't think it's a good idea," Bev said in a serious voice. "You might get hurt. There are a lot of them and only one of you."

"Okay, no more – I've heard enough wisecracks," I replied. "Kat, I'll leave you here and you can walk back to town, we're not too far out yet," I shouted into the air, "and Bev, I'm not going to be hurt. I have you around me, right?" I patted the instrument panel. "This is what you're for."

Bev gasped. "Me? How could I –?" The inside of Bev fell quiet. She shouted, "WHAT – ARE YOU NUTS? NO WAY!" She swung in a wide circle and zoomed off toward the lab as fast as possible.

"Bev, what are you doing?" I tried twisting the yoke back toward Morgan's army. She had frozen the controls tight.
"Go back!"

"Not on your fat human fanny's life will I." She kept trucking, ignoring my tugs.

"Bev, we can't return to the lab!" Kat shouted, her fingers white as she gripped the console. "Morgan's army is gonna search every inch of the place – go back to town."

"No, we have to attack the army!" I yelled, waving my hands in the air. "You're a Battle Evasive Vehicle. This is what you were made for."

"You're right, big boy, Battle Evasive, and I'm doing it – evasiving!" Bev retorted.

"Bev, stop – now. This is a command."

She slowed, came to a rolling halt.

I glared at Kat and she stared back at me, wild-eyed. "Kat," I pleaded, "We're out here now. By this time they've electrified the grid and blocked the entrance, there's no choice, they have to. We can't return and we can't go to the lab, you said so yourself. We either fight and help our pops, or squat here – turds on a rock."

Kat sat frozen, her brows knitted while she thought. A vibration tore through Bev, and then another, the concussion of the tank blasts as they attacked the wall. A part of Morgan's army split off from the main body and were heading our way, encircling half the town in the process. Kat glanced at the screen, focused on me, her face screwing up in frustration.

Finally, she released a moan of rage, and targeted me with a glare of exasperation. "Well, I guess we have no choice
now do we?"
she snapped. She said to Bev, "Swing about, honey, I guess we've got to fight."

"I don't wanna!"

"Neither do I, baby girl, at least not this way, but someone" – her eyes shot pure evil — "wants to be a hero. Don't worry, everything will be all right."

"Yeah, Bev, remember who you are. Battle, right?" I shouted. "Battle Bev, the meanest machine here!"

"R-rig- right. Gonna kick some tank."

"Ready?"

"Mean, mean – gonna kick some tank!"

"GO!"

Bev crept in a circle and we started toward town. As we moved, the part of the army, which shadowed us in our erratic flight, shifted and tailed Bev toward Paradise Cove.

The tanks with Morgan's soldiers were the newest kind; Lithium power, steam driven monsters, with hardened steel hulls and depleted uranium armor. As we arrived at town, they fired at the wall, huge chunks of concrete and metal flying every time a shell exploded.

The infantry lagged behind, scrutinizing the barrier, waiting for holes. Some of the soldiers fired rockets; others peppered the top with laser and solid shots. The flank of the army, which joined again with the main troops, did not shoot. I think they wished to capture us alive without destroying Bev. I hoped.

"Do you think Pop and the others took off already?" I whispered to Kat as the wall disintegrated before our eyes.

"I don't know. Wait –" A solid chunk of masonry, part of someone's front stoop, flew back over the remains of the barrier. The missile landed fifty feet from a tank sending up a cloud of dust. "Nope," Kat said, "They're still in there fighting."

"We have to take out those tanks," I yelped. "Bev, do something, quick."

Lasers flashed from her hull, and her Gatling guns spoke in short, rapid busts. Both solid shots and beams deflected off the armored sides of the tanks.

"It's not working," I shouted, "but we have to stop them somehow!"

"The tanks are thinking the same thing about us," Kat moaned back to me. The turret of one of the armored behemoths swung in our direction. "Bev, watch out!"

Bev swiveled to the right as a shell exploded on the earth where she passed through. The blast scooted her forward and sideways.

"Fire back, Bev, use your rockets!" I screamed. "Beat him!"

Two puffs of smoke swished away, red and white fire erupted from the tank, accompanied by black smoke and flames. The machine rumbled to a halt.

"Battle Bev – Battle Bev – Battle Bev!"

"You killed 'em," Kat and I cheered.

Three shells and a rocket slammed into Bev, spinning her around in a circle and lifting her into the air. "They shot me," she moaned, "Ouch – I'm hurt!"

I took a quick glance into the cargo bay where the shells hit. Bev's hull showed dents in spots.

All pretext of preserving Bev vanished. More soldiers leveled rockets; muzzles of tanks aimed our way. From somewhere mortar shells peppered around us.

"You gotta destroy the rest of those tanks, Bev." Kat's face was red from crying. She shouted, "Let those bullies have everything you've got!"

"I'll do more than hand out presents," Bev snarled back. "Shoot me in the caboose, will they?" Lasers, rockets, and explosive shells flew out of her, slamming the tanks, transforming each into smoking heaps. "I'll teach 'em."

The bulk of the soldiers launched their attack on the remains of the wall. They swarmed over the electrical grid and ignited – dark flies landing on a bug zapper.

Canisters of chlorine bombs lobbed through the air at the survivors, exploding over their heads, or dropping between their legs to release greenish-yellow gas.

More men fell, but others surged forward over their dead bodies, pushed from behind by the weight of the army.

"We've gotta move closer," I said, "if we slip inside, those troops will be afraid of hitting each other."

"What good will it do?" Kat shook her head, trembling in horror at the churning mass of screaming men. "There's too many. We can't defeat all these soldiers – we can't."

"Get ready to take over the controls if necessary." I struggled into Bev's cargo bay and clawed at a locker, hauling out the milk crates with Doc's spider bombs. "Bev, make a run through the soldier's ranks and open your cargo doors. I'm going to start tossing these out."

Bev's door dilated wide, and a solid shot immediately zipped past my ear to ricochet off the inside wall. I ducked and snatched up an armful of bombs and heaved them out as we raced by.

As each bomb hit the earth, they sprouted legs and scurried off into the ranks of soldiers. More shots flew at me, and three rockets slammed into the tail end of Bev's hull. A fireball swept over her from the front to back. The blasts deafened me and filled the cabin with acid smoke. I dragged the crate to the edge of the door and dumped the remaining bots hastily.

"Don't explode them yet, Bev!" I yelled. "I want to unload the rest and get us away from here before you do."

I crawled back into the bay and yanked another box of bombs to me, dragging the crate toward the door. I heard a whistle and glanced up. The dents in Bev's hull had become cracks, and air sucked through the openings, creating a breeze whipping my hair. I wrestled the bombs to the hatch and ordered, "Bev, swing around and make another pass."

"I hurt, I hurt," she moaned.

Before I tossed out more bots, I glanced along her outer hull. Our paint job of purple and pink had vanished, replaced by black streaks lining her body. Even her shiny original coating was gone. Instead, burnt, pitted metal covered her. In a few places, she was twisted and glowing an angry red.

"It's okay, honey," I heard Kat screaming. "Everything will be all right."

"Ye – yeah." Bev came about for another pass.

Soldiers leaped out of our way as Bev plowed through their ranks again. Every few feet I dropped a handful of bombs, watching them bounce and skitter along in our wake, careful to make sure they didn't fly back into the bay.

More shots zipped our way, a laser beam flashed over my shoulder, putting a neat hole through Bev's hull. She jumped, the snake, duckling, and rat bots, which we secured on the rear wall, broke loose and scattered all over the deck. The flying orb rolled forward against the pilot couches. Kat flinched and ducked her head until she realized what it was, and then stared back at the view screen with terror and released a moan.