The Daisy Ducks (38 page)

I forced myself to follow Daisy as she ran and slunk
from tree to tree, boulder to ledge, peering cautiously ahead,
waiting, then dashing forward. She had that M-3 grease gun up at
chest level, sweeping it back and forth in front of her as she went.
I knew she wouldn't hesitate to use it. But we saw nobody, friend or
foe. Then two men scampered up the ridge ahead of us. Both were
unarmed and looked scared. They headed up the cliff and over the top.
Little puffs of rock dust followed in their wake, with the buzzing
and whining of careening slugs. Then I saw Tommy from the chest up,
peering from behind a fallen tree, using his rifle to keep them
moving. A third man came scurrying out. Armed. I knew who he was. I
remembered those dark eyes. Jusuelo ran crouched and very fast. He
had a canvas satchel slung over his shoulder. He must have seen
Desmond, because those dust puffs raked the rock around Tommy and he
went down. Daisy had the M-3 up and she got off a short burst, but
Jusuelo was already gone, over the mountain to God-knows-where.

Daisy wanted to go after him. Dumb. She started
running up the rock and I caught her in back by the top edge of her
jeans. Without slowing down, she kicked back and caught my shin with
her heel and told me to leave her the fuck alone. I sat down fast,
holding my leg. Nice broad. I followed her up, and then we were lying
on the top of the rock, looking down the other side of the mountain.
It was all rock and brush and a few tall pine trees. No sign of
Jusuelo. Then I heard that electric snap above my head that told me a
supersonic bullet had passed over us. We hunkered down.

"I don't think he wants us to follow him,"
I said.

Below us, Tommy Desmond shouted. I asked if he was
hurt. He said no. I walked down, leaving Daisy to watch the other
side. She wasn't about to move anyway. I had a feeling there was no
love lost between her and the man scurrying down the cliff to safety.
I took another look at her as she lay on her tummy at the top of the
rocky ridge. Lord help me, why do I think about these things at the
strangest times? But there was no denying it. No denying it at all:
Daisy had a killer ass.

I told Tommy I was going in the back way to see how
the others were doing. He would cover that point until I returned.
Well, I went into that seep again. I heard nothing, and it made me
uneasy. It meant things were either really good or really bad. I went
ahead carefully, my safety off and tense as a coiled rattler. What I
saw in the main room I wasn't prepared for. The Ducks had four of the
young men face down and spread-eagled on the dirt. Summers stood over
them with the shotgun while Roantis helped the sentry off the walkway
and sat him down. He was still rubbing his eyes, obviously in great
pain. I was sorry I'd thrown the snuff in his face, but it could have
been much worse. The most surprising thing of all was the last
remaining defender of the fortress, Bill Royce.

Bill was squatting on his heels, rocking back and
forth, crying softly. His arms were clasped around his legs, his head
resting on the tops of his knees, like a kid in front of a warm
fireplace. Fred Kaunitz knelt on one knee beside his old wartime
buddy, patting his back and talking softly. I didn't go near them.

"Where's Jusuelo?" asked Roantis, eyeing me
sharply.

"He went over the far side of the mountain,
toward Tennessee. Daisy's watching for him on the summit."

He swore and said we'd never see him again. I knew
that Roantis was now convinced that it had been Jusuelo who'd shot
him. It was also clear that given the chance, Roantis would kill him.
But I was just as glad Jusuelo had split; only one man had been
killed: the guy Kaunitz had nailed before he could shoot Daisy and me
in the back. Everyone else was fine. Let it end that way. I turned to
see Kaunitz comforting Royce. Royce was talking now, intently telling
Fred an important story. Roantis yanked one of the guys off the floor
of the cave and told him he wanted a tour of the fortress, no doubt
to uncover anything of value. The two of them went off. I got a
canteen and helped the sentry wash out his eyes. I felt sorry for
him, but I didn't apologize. I got him as comfortable as possible,
then joined Summers, watching the young prisoners.

"How's the old groin?" I asked.

"Still hurts, James. I won't forget it soon—tell
you that. Good thing you helped me out, Doc, or I'd be pissed."

"What happened to Bill?"

"Found him like that. Curled up in the corner of
the place, like a baby cryin' hisself to sleep. Poor guy. Bill wadn't
never bad. Jusuelo now, that's another story. Mean sombitch. Sorry he
got away."

I heard a sound outside and couldn't place it. I
watched Kaunitz help Royce to his feet. Royce was talking in a low
voice, but I heard the words clearly.

". . . and then we'd go out to the village at
night, you remember, Freddie? And the sky was cloudy . . . big
silver-gray clouds low over the trees, remember? And the evening
light coming through them. The jungle all thick and green. And
remember how it smelled? The flowers and the river . . . and the
little kids playing on the riverbank. Then the planes would come in.
No bombs . . . It was before all that. The planes would come in at
dusk with our stuff . . . You remember, Freddie. Say you remember."

"I remember it, Billy. I remember."

"And remember the birds calling in the evening,
and how pretty it smelled? And the choppers' propwash in the grass in
the highlands. We were all standing around with those kids . . .
Remember?"

"Oh, I remember it, Billy. Like it was
yesterday."

The two walked slowly out of the cave, with Royce
leaning against Kaunitz. Summers and I left them alone. Then I saw
the two of them looking down from the top of the walkway, and Kaunitz
pointing down and shouting something. I went out and stood with them.
We could see the flatcar clearly now in the glow of the first light.
The sound I'd heard was now explained: the old tractor engine was
running, running hard. Clouds of oily smoke shot up from the black
stack. So much for Roantis's magic wand in there. A dud if there ever
was one. There was a cracking and popping along the rock and I ducked
back in, with Kaunitz half carrying Bill close behind. Royce was
shaking again and Freddie sat him down against the wall inside.
Summers and I poked our heads around and looked down again. The
flatcar was moving back down the spur, gaining speed. Jusuelo
crouched under the engine, looking up in our direction with his rifle
ready, the canvas haversack in front of him on the platform. He let
off a final short burst. The rock wall popped and cracked as we
ducked back in. We peered out again in time to see the flatcar
crossing the trestle at a good clip. I'd have sworn Jusuelo was
laughing at us. And well he might.

Roantis appeared at our side. His face showed no
emotion.

"Liatis, I don't think that wand of
MacAllister's was any good. In twenty minutes, Jusuelo will be back
at the end of the spur. He'll take Royce's pickup truck, and that's
the last we'll see of him."

"My money's in that canvas sack, Doc. That's
what the kid tells me. The dope, that was Jusuelo's business, not
Royce's. He kept the swag in that canvas sack—and that's the last
I'll see of it. Now that Daisy's safe, I don't care about Jusuelo.
But I want my loot!"

He watched the rickety contraption sway out of sight,
cursing under his breath.

"Let's go back downriver and crank up those
radios," I said, "I'm sure the police will want to talk to
Mr. Jusuelo. They can throw a net around him."

"Too late," he snapped.

"No it isn't. It'll take him twenty minutes to
ride that spur. Then he's got to hotwire Royce's truck—see Liatis,
I've still got Bill's keys in my pocket—hotwire the truck and —"

"Too late!"

He stomped down the wooden stairs and out into the
clearing, kicking rocks and swearing. I leaned over the railing.

"We can still stop him and maybe recover
something. I mean, how far can he go in an hour?"

"Real far, Doc. Like to kingdom come. Hey, were
there any kids with him on that car?"

"No. He's alone."

"Well, that's one good thing."

"Liatis, that gimmick Sparkles sold you is a
dud. Admit it."

He looked at his watch, shook his head, and resumed
kicking stones. Daisy came up to him and they hugged. I heard her
call him Papa again, and they talked in French. They hugged for a
long, long time. I was thinking about Mary. I sat down on the
sentry's ledge and watched the sun ease up over the mountains. The
birds were going nuts. Finches, warblers, thrushes, crows,
mockingbirds—the whole crew. I've still never seen anything like
the Carolina mountains for birds. I wanted to get back. Now. Now that
it was over, I wanted to see Mary. I swayed a little on the rock.
Watch it, Doc. Then I realized my legs felt numb. They tingled
slightly, but the general sensation was of numbness and heaviness, as
if my legs were two felled oak limbs. I swayed again and jammed my
hands down on the ledge to steady myself.

"Hey Eugene! You all right, my man?" Mike
spread his huge hand on the back of my neck and gently rocked me back
and forth.

"I'm okay . . . I think . . ." I said in a
fuzzy voice.

"Hah! You crashin' now, baby. When you go into
action, you all juiced up. Keeps you sharp. That juice wear off—bam!
All she wrote."

Daisy came up the walkway and sat down next to me.
She leaned over and planted one on my cheek. Dynamite. She rubbed my
back, then let her head fall onto my shoulder. All the Ducks were
looking at us.

"Scoot," she said, and kept rubbing. My
eyes were beginning to close . . .

KHAAAA-WHOOOOOOOMP!

It was like thunder, only all at once, not rolling,
and it came from far, far away. We felt the concussion of it in our
chests. The fierce wind of it blew our hair up. An angry hiss came
through the trees, then died away fast. Summers looked out across the
rolling mountains.

"Whoooo-eeeee!" he whistled, "that
Russki cyclonite sure pack a wallop."

Roantis trudged up the stairs and joined us. He
kicked the rock wall, looking at his watch.

"Nine and a half minutes. Supposed to go in
eight."

Daisy led me inside to a cot. I lay down on it. She
was rubbing my back, thanking me. It sure felt good, and she was a
knockout. But I was thinking of Mary. Then I fell asleep.
 

27

ROANTIS WOKE ME in an hour. A lot had happened. He
had changed from his black widow stalker outfit back to the old bush
clothes again. Kaunitz and Desmond had defused the trestle bridge and
hauled our gear from the dry camp over the bridge and up to the
clearing. The Ducks were ready to walk out of there. They'd even let
the remaining kids take off. There wasn't any fight left in them,
anyway. Desmond and Kaunitz would stay behind with Royce and watch
the place. There had been no sign of the other ragtag survivalists or
of the law. But a man was shot and another presumably blown to
kingdom come. We had to let people know. Kaunitz would try the
airwaves while we walked back along the track. I didn't relish the
idea; I had grotesque and horrid visions of what we might see. But
morbid curiosity kept me going. That and my tummy. I was hungry. I
wanted a down-home meal in town. And I wanted Mary. I wanted her more
than anything. So Roantis, Daisy, Summers, and I took off along the
spur through the deep woods. The only things missing were Daisy's
pigtails and gingham dress and her dog, Toto.

After an hour's trek, Summers found the first of the
bills. A hundred with the upper right-hand corner charred away. He
folded and stuffed it away quick as a flash, saying finders-keepers.

Then Daisy found two of them. One was half charred
and probably couldn't be redeemed, but the other one was whole.
Finders-keepers, she said. Then Daisy found another. Then I found
three stuck together. No burn marks. Finders-keepers. Roantis found a
couple. Then Mike found a bunch stuck in a tree branch, torn up but
cashable. And so it went.

The farther we went, the more bills we found. The
forest was lousy with them. Money grew on trees. Before long, we
realized we just couldn't stuff our own pockets; we had to put it
together in a lump sum and divvy it up fair and square. No more
finders-keepers. Then we got to the site. There was no crater, as I
had imagined, but the ground was burnt, the railroad ties charred,
for forty feet. There was also a strange odor that I'll never forget.

The trees all around were blown over, nude and black.
Great pieces of twisted metal had been driven into the tree trunks.
It would take a crow-bar to get them out. It was scary. And there was
no flatcar. And no Jesus Jusuelo, either. If there was, I sure didn't
want to be the one to find him.

We gathered money from the
site like peasants harvesting crops. I was thinking that one of those
sticks with a nail on the end—the kind used to clean up litter -
would be just the ticket. We stuffed all our pockets. Almost all the
bills were hundreds, but there were a lot of fifties and twenties
too—nothing lower. Should we even bother with the twenties? They
took up so much room . . .