The Last Mission Of The Seventh Cavalry

“Okay,” Karina said. “See you later.”

* * * * *

It was a somber evening that night by the campfire. Kawalski had come around while the others were taking care of Captain Sanders. He felt a lot of pain, but he shook his head when Autumn asked him if he wanted another shot of morphine.

“That stuff knocks me for a loop. I can live without it.”

Karina told Kawalski how the captain had been tortured to death.

“Damn it,” Kawalski said. “Now I’m glad we killed twenty of those nasty sons-of-bitches.”

“A couple hundred, you mean,” Karina said.

“I’m talking about me and Liada. Man, is she good with that bow. And when she ran out of arrows, she grabbed my rifle from the ground and used it for a club.”

“Yes,” Karina said, “after the battle, I helped retrieve her arrows. She was deadly.”

Fusilier took some MREs from the weapons container. “Who wants menu 7?”

Lojab raised his hand, and she tossed it to him.

Everyone sat on logs around the fire.

“Menu 12?”

“I’ll take it,” Sharakova said.

“Menu 20?”

No one was very enthusiastic about a cold meal, but a few of them tried to eat.

“Hey, Sarge.”

“Yeah, Sparks.”

“Look who’s coming.”

Alexander saw a wagon coming toward them. “That looks like Cateri.” He got to his feet, dusting off his trousers.

“And she has someone with her,” Fusilier said.

“It’s Tin Tin and Liada.”

Autumn greeted them as they rolled to a stop. “Hello.”

“Hello,” Tin Tin said.

Liada jumped down from the wagon and went to Kawalski, who was struggling to get up.

“Need arm.” Liada took his arm and placed it around her shoulders.

“Yes, I do need help.” He held her tight as he took a few wobbly steps.

“Come see.” She guided him to the back of the wagon.

“Wow,” Kawalski said. “Hey, guys, come take a look at this.”

In the bed of the wagon was a large iron pot filled with steaming grain and chunks of meat. Beside it was a dozen round loaves of bread, along with several bowls carved from wood.

Cateri reached to pull the pot to the edge of the wagon bed, then slipped two long wooden handles through metal rings on the sides of the pot.

“Here,” Alexander said, “let me help you.”

She said something that sounded more like “whatever” than “thank you” as they lifted it together and carried it to the fire.

“This really smells good, Cateri,” Alexander said as they lowered the pot to the ground by the fire.

Cateri shrugged and brushed a strand of auburn hair from her face as she removed the wooden handles from the pot and took them to the wagon. Alexander watched her walk back toward the fire, where she untied the leather string at the back of her neck, letting her hair fall. Thick and long, her shiny brown hair fell below her shoulders. She held the leather string in her teeth while gathering the loose strands together, then tied her hair at the back. She brushed by Alexander to go help Liada and Tin Tin as they broke off chunks of bread and passed them out with the bowls they’d filled from the pot.

“We are sorry,” Tin Tin said with hand signs, “for loss of your Sanders.”

“Thank you,” Autumn said and made the hand sign. “All of us are grateful to you and your people for helping us. How did you know he was our man?”

“Um, he have no…” She rubbed her cheek, then touched her hair.

“Ah, yes. He didn’t have a beard. Most of your men have beards.”

Tin Tin filled her own bowl and took a seat on a log next to Sharakova. Tin Tin looked at Joaquin, caught his eye, and smiled. He grinned and took a bite of food.

“What is this meat?” Autumn asked Liada.

Liada said something and made a hand sign.

Autumn shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

“Tin Tin,” Liada said, then asked her a question.

Tin Tin thought for a moment, then mooed like a cow. Everyone laughed.

“Ah, we’re eating moo meat,” Autumn said. “It must be beef, or maybe ox. It’s very good.”

“Too bad,” Kawalski said. “I thought maybe it was…” He made the sound of a horse whinny, then pawed the ground with his foot.

Tin Tin and Liada laughed with the others.

“I was thinking ‘woof woof,’” Zorba Spiros said.

“Or maybe ‘meoooooow,’” Kady said.

Kawalski almost choked on a bite of food, which drew even more laughter. Cateri, who rarely even smiled, laughed at Kawalski.

Karina touched Liada’s cheek. “Why did they brand you?”

Liada shook her head. “Not know what you say.”

“Brand, why?” Karina touched her own cheek and lifted her shoulders.

Tin Tin, sitting nearby, heard their conversation. She spoke to Liada, who asked Zorba Spiros in Greek about the question. He explained that Karina wanted to know how she got the mark on her face.

“I did brand,” Liada said, touching the scar.

“You?” Karina pointed to Liada. “You did this to yourself?”

Liada nodded.

Tin Tin came to sit beside Liada. “This is…um…” She touched her cheek where she had a brand identical to Liada’s, but on the opposite side of her face. “Can not say this word.” She made a motion of working with a hoe, then she stood and made a motion like hitting someone with a whip.

“Slave?” Kawalski asked. “Is she trying to say ‘slave?’”

“They can’t be slaves,” Karina said. “They have the run of the camp and do pretty much what they want.”

Cateri, sitting in the dirt at the end of one of the logs, spoke to Tin Tin, who lifted her shoulders.

“They’re trying to figure out how to tell us something,” Karina said.

Joaquin stood and made the motion of hoeing the dirt, then of carrying a heavy load. He stopped to wipe his brow, then pretended to show fear of someone nearby. He grabbed his imaginary hoe and got back to work.

“Slave,” Karina said, pointing to Joaquin.

“Yes, slave,” Tin Tin said.

“You and Liada are slaves?” Karina asked.

Tin Tin shook her head. “I was slave to Sulobo…”

“Kusbeyaw,” Liada said. “Sulobo, kusbeyaw.”

“Tin Tin was a slave, and she was owned by Sulobo?” Joaquin asked.

Tin Tin and Liada seemed to agree.

“Yes,” Karina said. “And we all know what a kusbeyaw is.”

“Yzebel,” Liada made a motion of taking coins from her purse and handing them to someone.

“Yzebel bought Tin Tin.” Karina said. “Go on.”

“Sulobo.”

“Ah, Yzebel bought Tin Tin from Sulobo.”

“Yes,” Liada said.

“How old was Tin Tin?” Karina asked. “Was she a baby?” She pretended to rock a baby in her arms, then pointed at Tin Tin.

“No,” Liada said and held out her hand at chest height.

“Tin Tin was a young girl, and who is Yzebel?”

Liada rocked a baby in her arms.

“Yzebel is a baby?”

“No. Liada is…um…”

“Liada was a baby?”

Liada shook her head.

“I think Yzebel is Liada’s mother,” Joaquin said.

“Oh, I see,” Karina said. “Yzebel rocked Liada as a baby. Yzebel is your mother.”

Liada held up two fingers.

“You have two mothers?”

Liada held up one finger, then two. Pointing at the second finger, she said, “Yzebel.”

“Yzebel is your second mother. And were you a baby when Yzebel bought Tin Tin from Sulobo?”

“No.” Liada held out her hand at chest height.

“You were a young girl when Yzebel bought Tin Tin?”

“Yes. And we…” Liada hugged Tin Tin close, tilting her head to her.

“You were like sisters?”

Karina held up two fingers, wrapping one around the other. They both nodded.

“Sulobo branded Tin Tin when he owned her?” Karina asked.

“Yes,” Liada said. “And I think for me to be like my sister, Tin Tin Ban Sunia, so I do this.” Her hands told the story quite clearly.

Karina sniffed and wiped her cheek. “I-I-can’t…”

“Imagine?” Joaquin said.

“I can’t imagine…”

“A bond so strong, one would have herself branded because her sister was branded as a slave?” Joaquin said.

Karina agreed.

Silence reigned for a few minutes.

“Something so powerful,” Kawalski said, “makes the simple routines of our lives seem trivial.”

“Cateri,” Liada said, “is Sulobo slave.”

“What?” Alexander asked.

“Yes,” Tin Tin said.

“Cateri,” Alexander said, “you are Sulobo’s slave?”

Cateri said something to Liada, who spoke to her in their language. Cateri then loosened the drawstring at the collar of her tunic, and Liada pulled the back of the tunic down far enough for them to see the slave brand on her right shoulder blade.

“Damn,” Kawalski said, “how could someone do that?”

Karina touched the scar. “So cruel, but her brand is different.”

“Yes,” Joaquin said. “Liada and Tin Tin have an arrow across the shaft of the pitchfork. Cateri’s brand has the pitchfork with the snake winding around the shaft, but not the arrow.”

“Why is that?” Karina asked.

“It’s a running brand,” Kawalski said. “In the old west, when a cow was sold, or stolen, they had to change the original brand to something different. They used a running brand to alter the old brand. That arrow on Tin Tin and Liada’s brand is a running brand, added to show they didn’t belong to the original owner.”

“These women are treated like cattle,” Karina said. “Bought and sold as if they were animals.”

“Sulobo,” Alexander said, “that son-of-a-bitch.”

Cateri adjusted her collar and tightened the drawstring. She then turned to leave them.

“Wait.” Alexander took her arm to stop her. “Don’t go.”

She faced him.

“You don’t have to be a slave. Slavery was outlawed two hundred years ago.”

Cateri glanced at Liada, then Liada looked to Autumn for help in explaining what Alexander had said.

“Hmm,” Autumn said, “how can I say ‘freedom’ in sign—”

Lojab interrupted her. “I’ll buy her from Sulobo.”

“Yeah, Low Job,” Kady said, “you’d like that, owning a woman. You idiot butthead.”

“I don’t think the Seventh Cavalry is going to own any slaves,” Karina said.

“You stupid women,” Lojab said, “you’re all pissed because nobody would pay money for you.”

“Eat shit and die, Low Job,” Katy said.

“Knock it off, Lojab,” Alexander said. “That’s uncalled for,” he said as he watched Cateri walk away.

Chapter Eleven

As the morning sun rose over the treetops, Sparks pulled a large camo suitcase from the weapons container and popped the latches. Inside, nestled in foam, was the Dragonfly Surveillance Drone.

The other soldiers came to watch as he carefully lifted the tiny aircraft from its resting place and placed it on the grass. He also laid out a joystick controller, iPad, and several coin-sized lithium batteries.

“It really does look like a dragonfly,” Kady said.

“Yeah,” Kawalski said, “a dragonfly the size of your hand.”

Sparks placed one battery in a slot in the belly of the Dragonfly and checked the wings to make sure they moved freely. Next, he placed a second battery inside a small compartment on the controller. He flipped the switches on the controller and iPad, then lifted the aircraft to inspect the tiny camera mounted beneath the belly. As he adjusted the camera, an image appeared on the iPad screen.

Kady waved, and her image on the iPad waved also. “Yep, that’s us.”

“What a mean looking bunch,” Kawalski said.

“Yeah,” Autumn said, “and some of them smell mean, too.”

“If you would move upwind from Paxton,” Lojab said, “you might find some fresh air.”

“All right, boys and girls,” Sparks said. “Weird science takes over.” He stood and backed away. “Give her some space. We’re ready for takeoff.”

A soft whirling sound came from the wings as Sparks worked the controller. The sound increased as the Dragonfly lifted off the grass.

“Karina,” Sparks said, “pick up the iPad and hold it over here so I can see it.”

The aircraft rose above their heads. “We’ve got a good picture, Sparks,” Karina said. “Can you see it?”

Sparks looked at the iPad, then back at the aircraft as it lifted higher. “Yeah, it’s good.”

Soon, the Dragonfly was at treetop level, and Karina saw the whole platoon looking up, except for her, as she watched the display.

“Now we’ll see where we are,” Sergeant Alexander said.

“We’re probably going to see the Wizard behind his green curtain,” Kawalski said.

“Or a giant movie set,” Kady said.

The Dragonfly rose higher and higher, showing more forest in every direction.

Everyone watched the video display on the iPad.

“Wow,” Lorelei said, “look at that.” She pointed to the long trail behind the army. It stretched away for many miles to the southeast.

“And they’re still coming into the camp,” Kady said.

“Where’s the river?” Lorelei asked.

Sparks worked the controls, and the Dragonfly rotated toward the north.

“There,” Kawalski said.

“Can you go higher, Sparks?” Sarge asked.

“Check the altitude, Karina,” Sparks said.

“How?”

“Touch the bottom of the screen,” Sparks said.

“Ah, there it is,” Karina said. “You’re at fifteen hundred feet.”

“Okay, up we go.”

“Two thousand feet,” Karina said.

“Pan around,” Sarge said.

The video image on the iPad rotated.

“Wow,” Karina said, “I’ve never seen the air so clean and clear.”

“No highways, no cities, no cell towers,” Kawalski said, “no manmade structures anywhere.”

“Hold it,” Sarge said. “Back up. There, ten miles to the north. What’s that?”

Sparks zoomed in.

“It must be a town,” Paxton said.

“A village,” Kady said.

“Yeah,” Karina said, “a big one.”

“Go up higher and zoom in more.”

“Three thousand feet,” Karina said.

“How high can she go?” Kawalski asked.

“About five thousand,” Sparks said.

“I see people,” Paxton said.

Sparks zoomed in more.

“Hey, those are buffalo dogs.”

“Vocontii,” Autumn said.

“Yes, they are,” Sarge said. “And there’s hundreds of ’em.” He looked up at the Dragonfly but couldn’t see her. “Take her up to five thousand.”

Everyone watched the iPad as Sparks reduced the zoom back to normal and the aircraft lifted higher and higher.

“There’s the river,” Autumn said.

“It’s huge,” Katy said.

“Pan around the horizon, Sparks,” Sarge said.

“Look, an ocean,” Kawalski said.

“How far away?” Autumn asked.

“Probably around twenty miles,” Sparks said.

“Mountains.”

“Snowcap mountains,” Kady said.

“Whoa!” Autumn said. “Back up.”

Sparks stopped the pan and rotated back.

“Zoom in,” Autumn said, “there, focus on that mountain.”

“That looks familiar,” Kawalski said.

“It should,” Autumn said. “That’s the Matterhorn.”

“Holy shit!” Kawalski leaned closer to the screen. “It is the Matterhorn!”

“How far, Sparks?” Sarge asked.

“Um…maybe a hundred and fifty miles.”

“Direction?”

“Northeast.”

Sarge unrolled his map on the grass. “Karina, show me the Matterhorn on this map.”

She knelt beside him, studying the map. “There.” She pointed to a peak in the mountain range.

Sarge put his finger on the Matterhorn and measured off a hundred and fifty miles to the southeast. “That river is the Rhone, and the ocean is the Mediterranean Sea.”

“Here,” Karina said to Kady as she held the Dragonfly iPad out to her, “hold this.” Karina ran to her backpack to get her iPad, then switched it on and began flipping pages.

“Sparks was right,” Autumn said. “We are on the Riviera.”

“Thank you,” Sparks said.

“But where are the highways and cities?” Kawalski asked.

Sarge shook his head as he studied the map.

“Hey!” Karina said as she came running back to the group. “Look at the elephants.”

“What?” Sarge asked.

“Bring the elephants up on the video,” Karina said.

Sparks rotated the Dragonfly back to look straight down.

“Zoom in a bit,” Karina said.

Sparks worked the controls.

“There! Stop!” Karina said. “Somebody count the elephants.”

“Why?” Kawalski asked.

“Just do it!”

Everyone began counting the elephants.

“Thirty-eight.”

“Forty.”

“Thirty-eight,” Kady said.

“Fifty-one,” Paxton said.

“Paxton,” Lorelei said, “you couldn’t count to twenty with your boots off.”

“Thirty-nine,” Sarge said.

“All right,” Karina said as she read something on her screen. “Can we agree on approximately twenty-six thousand soldiers?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Thousands, anyway.”

“I think more than twenty-six thousand,” Lorelei said.

“Listen to this, people,” Karina said. “In two-eighteen BC—”

Lojab laughed. “Two-eighteen BC! You dumb bimbo, Ballentine. You’ve gone completely off your rocker.”

Karina glared at Lojab for a moment. “In two-eighteen BC,” she began again, “Hannibal took thirty-eight elephants, along with twenty-six thousand cavalry and foot soldiers, over the Alps to attack the Romans.”

Several of the others laughed.

“Stupitch,” Lojab mumbled.

“So, Ballentine,” Sarge said, “you’re saying we’ve been transported back to two-eighteen BC and dropped into Hannibal’s army? Is that what you’re telling me?”

“I’m just reporting to you what I see; the Rhone River, the Mediterranean Sea, the Alps, someone saying this place is called Gaul, which is the ancient name for France, no highways, no cities, no cell towers, and all our watches being five hours out of whack.” She looked back at her screen. “And I’m reading off to you the facts of history. You can draw your own conclusions.”

Everyone was silent as they watched the screen on Sparks’s iPad. He reduced the zoom and panned around the horizon, searching for any signs of civilization.

“The Vocontii were the ancient inhabitants of southern France,” Karina read from her iPad. “They cared little for trade or agriculture, preferring instead to raid neighboring tribes for grain, meat, and slaves.” She clicked off her iPad and put it away.

Sparks brought the Dragonfly down to a soft landing on the grass. “It’s two-eighteen BC,” he whispered, “and that’s Hannibal’s army.”

A momentary silence lingered as the soldiers thought about what Karina had said.

“Sparks,” Lojab said, “you’d believe Ballentine if she said the moon was made of blue cheese.”

“Green cheese,” Sparks said. “And she’s right about that, too.”

Kawalski looked at Sarge. “We ain’t in Afghanistan anymore, are we, Toto?”

“Can the Dragonfly go up at night?” Sarge asked.

“Yeah, but we might lose her in the dark.”

“Even with the video on?”

“If we have a big fire going and we keep the camera trained on the fire, I guess I could bring her back down where we are.” Sparks flipped the switch on the Dragonfly and put it away. “Why do you want to go up at night, Sarge?”

“I think we fell into a pocket of the past and it’s just this area around us. Maybe ten square miles or so.”

“Like a wormhole?” Sparks asked.

“Something like that.”

“What’s a wormhole?” Kawalski asked.

“It’s a hypothetical feature of the space-time continuum,” Sparks said. “Basically a shortcut through space and time.”

“Oh.”

“But Sarge,” Sparks said, “we saw the Alps and the Matterhorn, a hundred and fifty miles away.”

“Yes, but we couldn’t see any distant cities. At night, from five thousand feet up, we could see the glow of city lights. Maybe Marseilles or Cannes.”

“Could be, I guess.”

“If we can spot a big city, we’ll go that way until we get out of this crazy place.”

Chapter Twelve

Autumn walked through the woods just below the Seventh’s camp, looking for firewood. It was a little past sunset, but still twilight.

“You need help, Apache?”

Autumn jerked around at the sound of the man’s voice, almost dumping her armload of wood. “Lojab, can’t you whistle or something when you’re sneaking up on a woman?”

“I ain’t sneaking, I just wanted to help.” He put his hand on her shoulder.

Autumn narrowed her eyes on his hand. “I know what you want.” She shoved away his hand.

“Well, good. That’s saves a lot of small talk.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You’re not like the others, are you?”

“Other what?” She knelt to pick up a dead branch and added it to her armload of wood.

“The other women. They don’t understand what I need.”

“Oh, I think they understand you pretty well.” She turned to go back toward the camp.

He grabbed her arm. “Wait a minute. You don’t have to be in such a hurry.”

“Get away from me.” She jerked her arm from his grip, dumping her armload of wood. “You’re breathing my air.”

“You fucking bitch.”

“Yes, I am.” She knelt to pick up her wood. “And if you touch me again, I’ll kick the shit out of you.”

He mumbled something as she left him standing there.

Back at the camp, Autumn dropped her wood on the fire, sending up a cloud of smoke and embers.

“Is that big enough for you, Sparks?”

Sparks glanced at the fire. “Yeah.” He looked at Autumn, with her feet spread apart and hands on her hips. She wore an expression that could scare off a Buffalo Dog. “Um, yeah, that’s really nice. You’re probably the best wood gatherer in the Seventh Cavalry.” He tried to look apologetic.

Sarge sat on a log nearby, holding a tin cup of coffee. He gave Autumn a look, like, ‘What the hell’s eating you?’

Autumn relaxed and grinned. “Sorry, Sparks.” She walked around the fire toward him. “I just had a cute little discussion with your charming pal, Blow Job.”

“My pal?” Sparks opened the Dragonfly’s cover to insert a fresh battery. “Since when is he my pal?” He set the aircraft on the grass.

“Well, someone has to be his friend.” She took Sarge’s cup and sipped the coffee.

“I wish him luck in that fantasy,” Sparks said. “All right, kids, here we go.”

A soft whirl came from the wings of the little drone, then it lifted off, going straight up.

“Take her slow, Sparks,” Sarge said as he picked up the iPad to watch the screen.

“Right.”

Sarge held the iPad so Sparks could see it as he worked the controls. The campfire grew smaller on the display as the Dragonfly lifted higher and higher.

“Two thousand feet,” Sparks said. “I’ll pan around, then center back on the fire.”

They saw nothing but total darkness, horizon to horizon.

“Take her up to three thousand,” Sarge said.

Kawalski and the others came to stand behind Sarge, watching the iPad.

“Look there,” Autumn said, “to the northeast.”

A slight glow arched above the trees.

“Zoom in, Sparks.”

“Right.”

“Damn,” Sarge said. “Those are campfires.”

Lojab came in from the woods. He glared at Autumn, then folded his arms and watched the display on the iPad.

“It’s the Vocontii village,” Autumn said.

“Yeah,” Sarge said. “And it’s a lot bigger than we thought.”

“There must be hundreds of fires,” Autumn said.

“Go up to five thousand,” Sarge said.

Sparks reduced the zoom and centered on their fire again. He then flew up to five thousand feet. The display of the campfire moved off the screen.

“What happened?” Sarge asked. “We lost the fire.”

“Wind.” Sparks rotated the controls. “I need to see the fire to find her.”

“What if you can’t locate the fire?”

“I can hit the ‘home’ button, and it’ll fly back here. But it might hit the trees when it comes down and tear itself apart.” He panned the camera left to right. “Ah, we’re almost to the Vocontii camp.” He watched the display as the Dragonfly drifted toward the fires of the Vocontii. “So, the wind is coming from the southwest.” He turned into the wind and flew forward. “Here we are.” Their campfire came up on the screen. “Now that I know the wind direction, I can hold our position.”

“Wow,” Kawalski said as Sparks panned around the horizon. “It’s as dark as midnight in a coalmine.”

“Damn,” Sarge said. “I thought sure we’d see a big city. How far away is the horizon at this height?”

“About eighty miles,” Sparks said.

“So, if there was a big city out there,” Autumn said, “even two hundred miles away, we would see the glow of the lights.”

“I think so,” Sarge said. “All right, Sparks, bring her down. This sinkhole is a lot bigger than I thought.”

“If we’re in a sinkhole,” Lojab said, “we can’t get up high enough to see out of it.”

“We were at five thousand feet, Lojab,” Sarge said. “That’s high enough to see something, if there was anything to see.”

“I think we should get moving,” Lojab said, “and see if we can climb out of here.”