Part 3
Vicinity of Massanutten Mountain Shenandoah Valley, Virginia 1410 Local
Where the hell was everybody? Mac wiped a hand across her forehead and then frowned. Dry as a bone and she should have been sweating, at least a little. Great, she was probably starting to run a fever, which meant she could now count on some fever-induced aches to go with the tumble-down-the-mountain aches. She coughed a little, experimentally, and was relieved that there didn't seem to be any phlegm. Maybe her lungs would stay out of whatever she was getting. As she trudged along, her sense of uneasiness was growing. It was so quiet. Not the sounds of nature, of course, birds and bugs were busily going about their business. What she wasn't hearing was the distant, omnipresent rumble of the interstates. There weren't a lot of places where that was normal in the U.S. and this definitely wasn't one of them. Mac glanced skyward. She'd been doing that more and more frequently. Not once today had she'd seen or heard a plane. It gave her the same eerie feeling that she gotten right after 9/11 when the nation's planes were grounded. What the hell was going on?
Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't notice that the trees were thinning. All at once, Mac found herself out of the forest and standing on a hillside. She caught her breath, the view was spectacular. More importantly, here was civilization. Clusters of farm buildings dotted the landscape, surrounded by the checkerboard pattern of crops and pastures. The road she'd been following wound its way down and joined a larger road that threaded its way into the Valley. Elated that her ordeal was finally over, Mac started to hurry down the slope.
Gradually, her steps slowed and she took another, longer look around. There were no cars or trucks or even tractors anywhere to be seen. She turned in a circle, looking at the surrounding mountains. No communication towers, no electrical towers - no power lines in the Valley either. There was one set of poles marching across the landscape with wires attached but it didn't stop at any of the houses. Reluctantly, she raised her eyes and looked up at a breathtakingly blue sky. No planes, no vapor trails, no hint that there'd ever been any. Mac found herself trembling. What had happened? Some sort of nuclear strike? She shook her head, dismissing that thought. That wouldn't explain the missing towers and lines.
Abruptly, she sank to the ground. Was she going crazy? Or was this all a dream? If it was, it was one of her more vivid and coherent ones. She rubbed her head, what if the car accident had been more serious? Maybe this is what happened when you were in a coma. She looked up at the sky again and chuckled ruefully, maybe she was dead. Maybe she had splattered herself against a tree and everything else she'd experienced since was some sort of cosmic 'Let's-Mess-With-The-Marine' prank. She sat there for the longest time; for once, she didn't know exactly how long. Apparently, her time sense didn't think too much of the joke and had retreated angrily to some nether corner of her mind. Or maybe, she thought suddenly, this proved her theory. Dead people didn't need to tell time.
As she turned that thought around in her head, she became aware of voices. Men's voices and a curious creaking and jingling. She climbed to her feet, groaning, and rolled an eye upward. All joking aside, it certainly didn't seem fair to feel every bruise and scrape if she was already dead. Weren't there rules?
She looked to her left and her eyes widened in surprise. Blue-uniformed men were riding alongside a string of wagons being pulled by teams of mules. It looked like something right out of the movies. They would be passing right in front of her in a couple of minutes or so. She started to call out to them but stopped, considering. Maybe she wasn't dead, maybe she had wandered onto the set of a movie... No, that made no sense, for one thing, there was no film crew. Dead or a coma was looking more and more plausible. This wasn't exactly what she was expecting but then, she'd never been in a coma, or dead, for that matter... at least, not to the best of her recollection. She stifled a laugh, if she hadn't been halfway convinced of the first two options, then crazy would have been a strong contender as well.
The gunfire took her completely by surprise and she instinctively dove for cover. The thunder of hooves shook the ground and soon the sound of gunfire was joined by the shouts and screams of men and horses. Cautiously, Mac raised her head and then stared in amazement. A full-fledged cavalry battle had broken out. Mounted men, in dusty blue and butternut, swirled around each other, firing pistols and short-barreled carbines at point-blank range, all the while, bellowing obscenities. This couldn't possibly be real. The sound of hooves behind her made flip over on her back. Mac knew a moment of stark terror as a gray-clad young man with wild eyes, leveled his pistol at her. Suddenly, he reeled backwards. She stared as he slowly came forward again and slid bonelessly from his horse. He landed in a heap right next to her, the exit wound in his back was big enough to put her fist in. She started scrambling backwards and didn't stop until she'd hit a low stone wall. Dear God Almighty, what was happening?! She continued to stare at the body as the firing gradually died. Okay, her opinion was definitely swinging towards the dream/coma theory because this was beginning to edge into nightmare territory. What was going on? How in the world had she come up with this scenario? Sturgis was the Civil War buff! Granted, she'd learned a bit in connection with those two sophomoric cadets but if her subconscious wanted to scare the hell out of her, it would have put her back in Bosnia... or her childhood.
A gruff voice sounded above her, "On yer feet, Johnny."
Mac twisted around and looked up. The burly figure of a man stood above her. WIth his back to the sun, it was hard to make out any details. "What... ?"
A large, callused hand came down and grabbed her arm. It hauled upwards and she scrambled to get her feet under her. The voice growled again, "I said, on yer feet!"
Mac staggered upright and then yanked her arm free, "Let go of me."
She stared at the man. He wasn't much taller than she but was considerably heavier. She didn't think it was fat. He could have stepped right out of Ken Burns' Civil War documentary. He was staring back at her, looking somewhat amazed. "You're a woman!" A short, lean man joined them. He looked her up and down slowly and then grinned, revealing brown, tobacco-stained teeth. Mac stiffened. Before she could say anything, he clapped the first man on the back and called over his shoulder, "Hey boys! Barnett's done caught hisself a female Johnny!"
Barnett looked at the lean man, "What d' I do with her, Ezra? She ain't one of them raiders."
Ezra smiled at him. Mac was liking the lean man less and less. More soldiers were gathering around and Ezra rolled his eyes at them. "Weee-elllll... ," he drawled slowly, eliciting chuckles from the rest.
"You'll take her to see the Major." A new voice barked. Most of the men jumped and then started looking guilty. A grizzled, wiry man with Sergeant stripes on his sleeves stomped into their midst. With his hands on his hips, he glared at Barnett, Ezra and the rest, "And the rest of you layabouts can form a burial detail. Get moving! The Major wants to join up with the rest of the regiment by nightfall." He turned around and stalked off. Barnett started to put a hand out and then plainly reconsidered when Mac glared at him. She turned and followed the Sergeant and Barnett walked behind her.
Mac kept half an eye on the Sergeant and the rest of her attention on the ground. If such things counted when you were immersed in a dream, all she'd eaten in the last twenty hours and seventeen minutes was that crumbled food bar. Well, that and some wild cress she'd found at a spring where she'd finally broken down and drank. It was making her light-headed. She snorted to herself, as if she needed to make things appear more surreal. Hmmm, maybe she was sick and all of this was a fever-induced hallucination... A hand on her shoulder brought her to a halt. She looked up from her musings and realized she'd been about to crash into the Sergeant.
He was standing in front of a taller man who was leaning over the tailgate, or whatever the hell it was called, of one of the wagons. This must be the Major. His uniform, while obviously worn, was of better make than the enlisted men. Aside from the shoulder straps and the saber hanging from his belt, there were no other distinguishing marks of rank. It appeared he was using the wagon as a temporary desk and he kept writing as he listened to the Sergeant make his report.
"Thank you, Sergeant," the Major straightened up and turned towards them.
Mac's eyes opened wide in shock. All she could manage to get out was "Harm!"
The Major looked at her askance, "Madam, I assure you, no harm will befall you. We're civilized men, not monsters, no matter what you may have heard."
Mac stared at him. It was Harm. His hair was quite a bit longer with a touch of gray at the temples and he wore a neatly trimmed mustache. His face was the weatherbeaten brown of someone who spent a considerable amount of time outdoors. ... Goddamn her subconscious! On top of everything else, she didn't need to be reminded of how much she missed him. She drew a hand across her forehead and realized it was shaking, "I'm sorry... " That disjointed feeling was growing.
The Major smiled while gesturing to someone behind her, 'No need to apologize. Sergeant Fitzgerald tells me you witnessed this dust-up firsthand. You're understandably upset." He stepped forward and extended a hand toward her.
If she weren't already reeling, both physically and mentally, Mac might have bristled at his words and tone. Patronizing men were not high on her list of favorite things. She allowed him to turn her and saw a Corporal setting up a campstool. Yes, sitting would be a good thing and, quickly, before this dream threw her any more curves. The Major leaned against the wagon and watched her silently. When he spoke, it was in the same quiet tone one uses on a skittish horse, "How is it you managed to find yourself in the middle of our little skirmish?"
She raised an eyebrow, "The universe has a warped sense of humor?" He looked startled, apparently that wasn't the answer he was expecting. Mac decided to follow with a question of her own, "Your name is Rabb, isn't it?" His reaction wasn't what she was expecting, either.
He nodded slowly, and Mac could swear he looked somewhat smug, "It is, madam. Major Josiah Rabb at your service." He began to grin, "Forgive me for being blunt, but if you were hoping to pass yourself off as a man so you could join my company, perhaps you should have worn looser clothing."
Mac stared at him in confusion, "What are you talking about? Why would I bother impersonating a man?"
The Major gave her a sidelong look and sighed to himself. God help him if this was one of those vociferous, unsexed females who were determined to intrude into the sovereign territories of men. There were some things women had no business meddling in. War was one of them. Abruptly, he straightened up and scowled, "Madam, there are only two reasons for you to be dressed the way you are. Either you wish to join the army under false pretenses or you're a camp-follower. I don't have time for one or inclination for the other."
It took a moment for what he said to sink in and then Mac shot to her feet, seething, "You think I'm a prostitute? A whore?! How dare you!" Resisting the urge to slap him, she threw her hands in the air instead, "You've got some nerve, Buster! I didn't know you would be here. I don't even know where here is!" She turned away from him, still fuming, "Unbelievable! First the mountain tries to kill me, then that crazy woman and now this!" Barnett suddenly appeared in front of her. She leveled a glare at him and barked, "Stand aside, Private! Now!" He moved before he realized what he was doing, reacting to the sound of command.
She stomped past, intent on leaving. The Corporal who had brought the campstool stepped in front next, putting out a hand to stop her. Eyes narrowed, Mac growled, "Don't." His hand dropped for an instant as he hesitated and then came back up as his jaw tightened. No female was ordering him around. Mac didn't hesitate at all. As his hand came in contact with her shoulder, she grabbed his wrist with her left hand. She rotated it up and out as she slid alongside of him. A split second later, her right hand slammed into his chest while her right leg swept his feet out from under him. He hit the ground with a thump and laid there a moment wheezing. Mac kept moving as another soldier decided to try his luck. He threw himself at her, obviously intent on taking her to the ground. She pivoted as he reached for her, letting his momentum carry him past. He missed but she didn't, grabbing the back of his coat and redirecting his trajectory. He crashed into the Corporal who was struggling to his feet, taking them both down.
The next man grabbed her from behind pinning her arms at her side. Mac picked up a foot and came down hard on his instep. He howled and his grip loosened. She dropped low while raising her arms, effectively popping out of his grasp. Pivoting, she hammered an elbow into his ribs. Continuing to turn, she launched an uppercut at his chin, straightening her legs at the same time to throw her weight into the punch. He hit the ground and stayed there. Mac noted with satisfaction that it had been Ezra. She looked up to see that she was surrounded by a group of soldiers, some were laughing, many were gaping at the men on the ground. Suddenly, she staggered as the ground seemed to tilt. Goddammit, not now! She struggled to get one foot in front of the other, swayed even more and then collapsed.
The ring of men started to close in, only to freeze when Major Rabb's voice roared out, "Stand away!" He strode into the circle with Sergeant Fitzgerald at his side, "Get back to your posts! I've seen better behavior from green troops! Go!" He watched the men scatter and then looked down at the unconscious woman. He was feeling slightly ashamed of himself. He'd stood there with his mouth open, watching the scene unfold like the rawest recruit.
Fitzgerald glanced at him and then said in a bland tone, "It's a good thing women are the weaker sex."
Rabb shot him an annoyed look and then chuckled ruefully, "Indeed. Well, we can't leave her here. Put her in one of the wagons and make her comfortable, Tommy. We'll take her along. I think I need to have another conversation with this woman."
"Yes sir," Fitzgerald answered, "And might I suggest, sir, that you refrain from making her angry again? We're running out of men."
Vicinity of Massanutten Mountain Shenandoah Valley, Virginia 1410 Local
Where the hell was everybody? Mac wiped a hand across her forehead and then frowned. Dry as a bone and she should have been sweating, at least a little. Great, she was probably starting to run a fever, which meant she could now count on some fever-induced aches to go with the tumble-down-the-mountain aches. She coughed a little, experimentally, and was relieved that there didn't seem to be any phlegm. Maybe her lungs would stay out of whatever she was getting. As she trudged along, her sense of uneasiness was growing. It was so quiet. Not the sounds of nature, of course, birds and bugs were busily going about their business. What she wasn't hearing was the distant, omnipresent rumble of the interstates. There weren't a lot of places where that was normal in the U.S. and this definitely wasn't one of them. Mac glanced skyward. She'd been doing that more and more frequently. Not once today had she'd seen or heard a plane. It gave her the same eerie feeling that she gotten right after 9/11 when the nation's planes were grounded. What the hell was going on?
Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't notice that the trees were thinning. All at once, Mac found herself out of the forest and standing on a hillside. She caught her breath, the view was spectacular. More importantly, here was civilization. Clusters of farm buildings dotted the landscape, surrounded by the checkerboard pattern of crops and pastures. The road she'd been following wound its way down and joined a larger road that threaded its way into the Valley. Elated that her ordeal was finally over, Mac started to hurry down the slope.
Gradually, her steps slowed and she took another, longer look around. There were no cars or trucks or even tractors anywhere to be seen. She turned in a circle, looking at the surrounding mountains. No communication towers, no electrical towers - no power lines in the Valley either. There was one set of poles marching across the landscape with wires attached but it didn't stop at any of the houses. Reluctantly, she raised her eyes and looked up at a breathtakingly blue sky. No planes, no vapor trails, no hint that there'd ever been any. Mac found herself trembling. What had happened? Some sort of nuclear strike? She shook her head, dismissing that thought. That wouldn't explain the missing towers and lines.
Abruptly, she sank to the ground. Was she going crazy? Or was this all a dream? If it was, it was one of her more vivid and coherent ones. She rubbed her head, what if the car accident had been more serious? Maybe this is what happened when you were in a coma. She looked up at the sky again and chuckled ruefully, maybe she was dead. Maybe she had splattered herself against a tree and everything else she'd experienced since was some sort of cosmic 'Let's-Mess-With-The-Marine' prank. She sat there for the longest time; for once, she didn't know exactly how long. Apparently, her time sense didn't think too much of the joke and had retreated angrily to some nether corner of her mind. Or maybe, she thought suddenly, this proved her theory. Dead people didn't need to tell time.
As she turned that thought around in her head, she became aware of voices. Men's voices and a curious creaking and jingling. She climbed to her feet, groaning, and rolled an eye upward. All joking aside, it certainly didn't seem fair to feel every bruise and scrape if she was already dead. Weren't there rules?
She looked to her left and her eyes widened in surprise. Blue-uniformed men were riding alongside a string of wagons being pulled by teams of mules. It looked like something right out of the movies. They would be passing right in front of her in a couple of minutes or so. She started to call out to them but stopped, considering. Maybe she wasn't dead, maybe she had wandered onto the set of a movie... No, that made no sense, for one thing, there was no film crew. Dead or a coma was looking more and more plausible. This wasn't exactly what she was expecting but then, she'd never been in a coma, or dead, for that matter... at least, not to the best of her recollection. She stifled a laugh, if she hadn't been halfway convinced of the first two options, then crazy would have been a strong contender as well.
The gunfire took her completely by surprise and she instinctively dove for cover. The thunder of hooves shook the ground and soon the sound of gunfire was joined by the shouts and screams of men and horses. Cautiously, Mac raised her head and then stared in amazement. A full-fledged cavalry battle had broken out. Mounted men, in dusty blue and butternut, swirled around each other, firing pistols and short-barreled carbines at point-blank range, all the while, bellowing obscenities. This couldn't possibly be real. The sound of hooves behind her made flip over on her back. Mac knew a moment of stark terror as a gray-clad young man with wild eyes, leveled his pistol at her. Suddenly, he reeled backwards. She stared as he slowly came forward again and slid bonelessly from his horse. He landed in a heap right next to her, the exit wound in his back was big enough to put her fist in. She started scrambling backwards and didn't stop until she'd hit a low stone wall. Dear God Almighty, what was happening?! She continued to stare at the body as the firing gradually died. Okay, her opinion was definitely swinging towards the dream/coma theory because this was beginning to edge into nightmare territory. What was going on? How in the world had she come up with this scenario? Sturgis was the Civil War buff! Granted, she'd learned a bit in connection with those two sophomoric cadets but if her subconscious wanted to scare the hell out of her, it would have put her back in Bosnia... or her childhood.
A gruff voice sounded above her, "On yer feet, Johnny."
Mac twisted around and looked up. The burly figure of a man stood above her. WIth his back to the sun, it was hard to make out any details. "What... ?"
A large, callused hand came down and grabbed her arm. It hauled upwards and she scrambled to get her feet under her. The voice growled again, "I said, on yer feet!"
Mac staggered upright and then yanked her arm free, "Let go of me."
She stared at the man. He wasn't much taller than she but was considerably heavier. She didn't think it was fat. He could have stepped right out of Ken Burns' Civil War documentary. He was staring back at her, looking somewhat amazed. "You're a woman!" A short, lean man joined them. He looked her up and down slowly and then grinned, revealing brown, tobacco-stained teeth. Mac stiffened. Before she could say anything, he clapped the first man on the back and called over his shoulder, "Hey boys! Barnett's done caught hisself a female Johnny!"
Barnett looked at the lean man, "What d' I do with her, Ezra? She ain't one of them raiders."
Ezra smiled at him. Mac was liking the lean man less and less. More soldiers were gathering around and Ezra rolled his eyes at them. "Weee-elllll... ," he drawled slowly, eliciting chuckles from the rest.
"You'll take her to see the Major." A new voice barked. Most of the men jumped and then started looking guilty. A grizzled, wiry man with Sergeant stripes on his sleeves stomped into their midst. With his hands on his hips, he glared at Barnett, Ezra and the rest, "And the rest of you layabouts can form a burial detail. Get moving! The Major wants to join up with the rest of the regiment by nightfall." He turned around and stalked off. Barnett started to put a hand out and then plainly reconsidered when Mac glared at him. She turned and followed the Sergeant and Barnett walked behind her.
Mac kept half an eye on the Sergeant and the rest of her attention on the ground. If such things counted when you were immersed in a dream, all she'd eaten in the last twenty hours and seventeen minutes was that crumbled food bar. Well, that and some wild cress she'd found at a spring where she'd finally broken down and drank. It was making her light-headed. She snorted to herself, as if she needed to make things appear more surreal. Hmmm, maybe she was sick and all of this was a fever-induced hallucination... A hand on her shoulder brought her to a halt. She looked up from her musings and realized she'd been about to crash into the Sergeant.
He was standing in front of a taller man who was leaning over the tailgate, or whatever the hell it was called, of one of the wagons. This must be the Major. His uniform, while obviously worn, was of better make than the enlisted men. Aside from the shoulder straps and the saber hanging from his belt, there were no other distinguishing marks of rank. It appeared he was using the wagon as a temporary desk and he kept writing as he listened to the Sergeant make his report.
"Thank you, Sergeant," the Major straightened up and turned towards them.
Mac's eyes opened wide in shock. All she could manage to get out was "Harm!"
The Major looked at her askance, "Madam, I assure you, no harm will befall you. We're civilized men, not monsters, no matter what you may have heard."
Mac stared at him. It was Harm. His hair was quite a bit longer with a touch of gray at the temples and he wore a neatly trimmed mustache. His face was the weatherbeaten brown of someone who spent a considerable amount of time outdoors. ... Goddamn her subconscious! On top of everything else, she didn't need to be reminded of how much she missed him. She drew a hand across her forehead and realized it was shaking, "I'm sorry... " That disjointed feeling was growing.
The Major smiled while gesturing to someone behind her, 'No need to apologize. Sergeant Fitzgerald tells me you witnessed this dust-up firsthand. You're understandably upset." He stepped forward and extended a hand toward her.
If she weren't already reeling, both physically and mentally, Mac might have bristled at his words and tone. Patronizing men were not high on her list of favorite things. She allowed him to turn her and saw a Corporal setting up a campstool. Yes, sitting would be a good thing and, quickly, before this dream threw her any more curves. The Major leaned against the wagon and watched her silently. When he spoke, it was in the same quiet tone one uses on a skittish horse, "How is it you managed to find yourself in the middle of our little skirmish?"
She raised an eyebrow, "The universe has a warped sense of humor?" He looked startled, apparently that wasn't the answer he was expecting. Mac decided to follow with a question of her own, "Your name is Rabb, isn't it?" His reaction wasn't what she was expecting, either.
He nodded slowly, and Mac could swear he looked somewhat smug, "It is, madam. Major Josiah Rabb at your service." He began to grin, "Forgive me for being blunt, but if you were hoping to pass yourself off as a man so you could join my company, perhaps you should have worn looser clothing."
Mac stared at him in confusion, "What are you talking about? Why would I bother impersonating a man?"
The Major gave her a sidelong look and sighed to himself. God help him if this was one of those vociferous, unsexed females who were determined to intrude into the sovereign territories of men. There were some things women had no business meddling in. War was one of them. Abruptly, he straightened up and scowled, "Madam, there are only two reasons for you to be dressed the way you are. Either you wish to join the army under false pretenses or you're a camp-follower. I don't have time for one or inclination for the other."
It took a moment for what he said to sink in and then Mac shot to her feet, seething, "You think I'm a prostitute? A whore?! How dare you!" Resisting the urge to slap him, she threw her hands in the air instead, "You've got some nerve, Buster! I didn't know you would be here. I don't even know where here is!" She turned away from him, still fuming, "Unbelievable! First the mountain tries to kill me, then that crazy woman and now this!" Barnett suddenly appeared in front of her. She leveled a glare at him and barked, "Stand aside, Private! Now!" He moved before he realized what he was doing, reacting to the sound of command.
She stomped past, intent on leaving. The Corporal who had brought the campstool stepped in front next, putting out a hand to stop her. Eyes narrowed, Mac growled, "Don't." His hand dropped for an instant as he hesitated and then came back up as his jaw tightened. No female was ordering him around. Mac didn't hesitate at all. As his hand came in contact with her shoulder, she grabbed his wrist with her left hand. She rotated it up and out as she slid alongside of him. A split second later, her right hand slammed into his chest while her right leg swept his feet out from under him. He hit the ground with a thump and laid there a moment wheezing. Mac kept moving as another soldier decided to try his luck. He threw himself at her, obviously intent on taking her to the ground. She pivoted as he reached for her, letting his momentum carry him past. He missed but she didn't, grabbing the back of his coat and redirecting his trajectory. He crashed into the Corporal who was struggling to his feet, taking them both down.
The next man grabbed her from behind pinning her arms at her side. Mac picked up a foot and came down hard on his instep. He howled and his grip loosened. She dropped low while raising her arms, effectively popping out of his grasp. Pivoting, she hammered an elbow into his ribs. Continuing to turn, she launched an uppercut at his chin, straightening her legs at the same time to throw her weight into the punch. He hit the ground and stayed there. Mac noted with satisfaction that it had been Ezra. She looked up to see that she was surrounded by a group of soldiers, some were laughing, many were gaping at the men on the ground. Suddenly, she staggered as the ground seemed to tilt. Goddammit, not now! She struggled to get one foot in front of the other, swayed even more and then collapsed.
The ring of men started to close in, only to freeze when Major Rabb's voice roared out, "Stand away!" He strode into the circle with Sergeant Fitzgerald at his side, "Get back to your posts! I've seen better behavior from green troops! Go!" He watched the men scatter and then looked down at the unconscious woman. He was feeling slightly ashamed of himself. He'd stood there with his mouth open, watching the scene unfold like the rawest recruit.
Fitzgerald glanced at him and then said in a bland tone, "It's a good thing women are the weaker sex."
Rabb shot him an annoyed look and then chuckled ruefully, "Indeed. Well, we can't leave her here. Put her in one of the wagons and make her comfortable, Tommy. We'll take her along. I think I need to have another conversation with this woman."
"Yes sir," Fitzgerald answered, "And might I suggest, sir, that you refrain from making her angry again? We're running out of men."