From behind Seth Westlake’s position, the booming cannons sent their canisters whistling over his tree and across the wide field. When they touched the ground past Cemetery Ridge, distant explosions sounded in nearly the same succession the Confederates had fired them.
The woods grew silent. It seemed the birds and even the insects had sensed the coming disaster and retreated to safety. The only sounds came from the edge of the field, where officers barked orders and standard-bearers flashed their colors to position the regiments along the massive line. Seth eased his camouflaged face away from the spotting scope. He held in a sneeze before waving a tickling leaf away from his nose. When it wouldn’t stay, he yanked and flicked it into the shroud of leaves surrounding him.
“I’ll be damned.” He looked at his watch. “For almost an hour, they threw everything but the kitchen sink at the Yankees and it all landed behind them. The historians were right for a change.”
He rolled sideways to the check the camera. The brushed-over aluminum platform strapped to the two thick level branches creaked loudly. He showed no concern. The large full trees in these woods hid the platform well. He pressed his elbows into the soft padding under him and spread his legs, touching the toes of his boots to either edge. Comfortable, too.
He took a deep breath and said, “I wish Wilkerson could see my setup. He might be impressed.” He peered through his camera and shook his head. “Nah. Nothing impresses that old man.”
He slid over and clasped his hand around the spotting scope. He leaned out and poked the lens through his façade, panning from left to right until he found the split rail fence. Following the zigzags to the edge of a tall hay field, he focused on a rail bearing a large knot.
He bent the microphone that snaked from his matching wireless headset closer to his mouth and tapped the power button.
A young man’s voice said, “Aww. How about Saturday night?”
A young woman’s delicate voice replied, “You know I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Both. Now stop. Seth will murder you if he hears you asking me out.”
“Have no fear, woman. He’s got his stuff muted.”
Seth cleared his throat and waited.
The woman’s voice whispered, “Shh. He’s back.”
The man’s voice said, “No shit.”
The muscles in Seth’s jaw balled up under the heavy pressure of his bite until his cheeks looked full of stuffed cotton. He took a deep breath and let the calm in. “Okay team, now that we have a lull in the Confederate artillery, let’s do a final communications check. Trent, do you copy?”
A ghillie-covered fist popped out of the hay, slapped the middle rail of the fence, and flashed a fuzzy thumbs-up.
“Loud and clear, boss.”
“Protocol, Trent. A simple ‘Roger’ will do. And keep your hand down.”
Trent flashed a pointed index finger and fired his imaginary pistol. “Roger, Roger, boss.”
“Stop calling me boss.”
“Yes, sir, Sethy.”
Trent hunkered against the fence and stroked the material of his Ghillie suit while saying, “Good boy. That’s a nice boy.” He whined like a dog as he began to scratch his side and kick his leg.
The young woman’s laugh came through the headset.
Seth cringed. “Stop screwing around, Trent. Thousands of people are going to die horrible deaths today and many more will be maimed.” He muted his microphone, his chest burning at the thought of Victoria laughing at Trent’s shenanigans. She had fallen for his crap again. “Always trying to be the fun guy. Twenty-two years old and he acts like he’s eight. A quick study alright. A quick study in being a moron.” He laughed to himself. “Not bad, Seth, old boy.”
He unmuted his microphone and panned the scope rightward to a small section of tall dry cornstalks. The stalks in one particular spot trembled a little differently than the others around them that swayed gently in the breeze.
“Vic, do you copy?”
The woman’s voice replied, “Loud and clear, boss, uh, Seth.”
Seth frowned. See? She called me boss! He sighed. Just let it go. The tops of the corn above her quaked nonstop. “You’re easy to spot, Vic. Try to lie still.”
“Just trying to get comfortable. This fabric is wreaking havoc on my skin. It’s so itchy.”
“Roger.” Keep the conversation short. Don’t give Trent an opening.
“Take it off and you won’t have to worry about it.”
Shut up, Trent. She’ll never be your girlfriend and you’ll never see her naked. He glided the scope across the entire countryside to a wooden farmhouse where two Union soldiers stood near a barn just thirty yards to the side.
“Lester, do you copy?”
Silence.
“Lester?”
Lester Osia’s harsh adolescent voice replied, “Loud and clear, sir.”
“I need you to stay focused.”
“Sorry, Seth. I was just fine tuning some video equipment.”
“Okay. Keep your eyes and ears open. I’d think you above all will appreciate the challenge facing us today.”
“Roger.”
Seth muted his mic. “A class clown, an easily influenced girlfriend, and a fifteen-year-old techie with a severe aversion to concentration. Uncle Paul sure knows how to pick them.”
“What’s the power situation?” He waited a few seconds. “Lester, what’s the power situation?” He waited. “Son of a… He’s not even paying attention!” He gritted his teeth and raised his fist, ready to slam it into the platform. Then he blushed before unmuting his microphone and asking again.
“Hold on a second.” In the dim and musty cellar beneath the house, Lester picked up and shook the gasoline can under his table. He opened the lid and checked it out with his flashlight. Maybe two gallons left. Three gallons already gone. Crap! I knew I should have filled it all the way. How long have we been here? He looked at his watch. I don’t even know what time we got here. And I’m not asking, either. Better just to lie with an expert voice.
“By my calculations, we have at least four hours of full power left.” Yeah, four hours sounds good. He crossed his fingers.
Seth sighed. “More than enough time. I’ll get back to you shortly with a system status check. Keep your eyes on everything.”
“Sure thing, sir.”
Seth leaned out as far to his right as he could without exposing himself through the leaves. About midway into a peach orchard, a lone figure wearing a Confederate uniform sat mounted on a horse.
“Braden, do you copy?” He zoomed in. The man grabbed the headset from around his neck and placed it on his head backwards. If only I could push a button to shock him. “Hey, wake and bake, turn your headset around.”
Braden fiddled with it until he got it right. With a cadence yet higher pitched voice reminiscent of Tommy Chong, Braden answered, “Yeah, sorry, man. The vibration of your voice coming through the earphone tickled my neck.”
“They call it a headset for a reason, man. Keep it on.”
Braden played with the buttons on the right headphone, which created a heavy dose of feedback.
Seth yanked back the headset. A litany of complaints from the others followed.
Braden said, “Sorry. It’s a little difficult to wear with my camera hat, but I’ll manage, man.”
“Just pay attention. And stop messing with the buttons.”
“I think I got it figured out.” A screech trailed off with his voice.
“Okay.” Seth aimed the scope at a thick section of forest back to his left and beyond Cemetery Ridge.
“Ida, do you copy?”
Ida Trokey stood in a small clearing surrounded by thick woods.
“Loud and clear, Seth.”
She checked the ropes around the stakes that held the basket in place. A fully inflated 19th century hot air balloon floated above the basket. She added, “I’ll be ready in just a bit.”
“Good. I see no sign of your presence from here so I’m thinking nobody else can, either. Keep your eyes open just in case. If there’s trouble, you know what to do.”
“Got it.”
Seth shook his head in awe at how a seventeen-year-old could construct something like the fully functional replica hot air balloon for this mission. There was nothing she couldn’t create. The girl truly belonged at NASA or, at the very least, on some engineering show. She served another purpose, though. She had a huge crush on Trent, which distracted him from Vic. She would be eighteen soon, too.
“Okay, I know we went over this several times during mission prep, but I’m going to have you go over each of your objectives one last time before stuff gets real.”
A chorus of sighs filtered through his headset.
“I know, I know. I just want to make sure we are all on the same page. Better to be thorough. Feel free to add any relevant info that any of us forgets to mention.”
Seth checked the cornfield. “You’re still trembling, Vic.”
Victoria’s arms and legs jerked and twitched. She smelled the collar of her camo shirt. “Sorry. I’m still really itchy for some reason. I’m trying hard.” Could it be the laundry detergent?
“Well, do the best you can. Trust me. You don’t want anyone spotting you. Do you remember reading what both sides did to their prisoners? You may not be able to save yourself before any of that happens. These men here haven’t had any experience with a woman in years.”
“And some not at all. Take our friend Seth here.” Trent replied.
Seth grimaced at the laughs entering his ears. “I’m serious, Vic. Imagine the things they would do to the first pretty blonde they got their hands on.”
“I’m imagining right now,” Trent added.
Ignore him. The corn came to an immediate standstill. Good. She’s taking this seriously. He didn’t think anyone would spot her anyway. She blended in with the stalks so well he couldn’t even pick out the lens of her camera poking through.
“If you need some help, Vic, I’m just a hop, skip, and a hump away.”
Give it up, Trent. Wanting it to be Trent’s throat, the tips of Seth’s fingers turned white around his scope.
Vic’s eyes sparkled behind her camera. She looked over the screen, which displayed the growing line of Confederate soldiers in the distance. Her perfect teeth glowed on her painted face as she smiled. “Well, Trent, I’ll call you if I need someone to hop or skip over.” Sometimes it felt good to go along just to keep things fun even at Seth’s expense.
Don’t feed the troll, Vic. Ugh! Seth panned the scope to his left a few hundred yards. “You just worry about yourself, Trent. I’m watching you right now so stay where you are. You performed the reconnaissance and you assigned the safe spots. Do you really want to spoil all that hard work by doing something stupid?”
“Just trying to be of some assistance to the pretty blonde, boss.” He mumbled, “And who says your spot is totally safe, big boy?”
“What was that last part?”
“Nothing, boss. Just talking to myself.”
“Alright. You all know where and when we are. It’s the third and final day of Gettysburg. As most of you can see, the Army of Northern Virginia, 12,000 strong, is maneuvering into their lines along Seminary Ridge.”
“It’s amazing. The sheer number of soldiers. Look at the size of the regiment flags. And the strength of the men carrying them. Wow.” Victoria stretched her arm over her shoulder to scratch her back.
Trent poked his head up over the hay. “Yeah, but those guys are sitting ducks. Might as well put a target on their backs.”
Quit talking to my girlfriend. “We can talk about all the cool stuff later. We have only thirty minutes before they march into the bloodbath at Cemetery Ridge. That noise you all heard during the past hour or so was a heavy bombardment from the Confederate artillery behind me. History says that most of it landed well beyond the Union lines with very little effect. From my point of view, history was right. The Union artillery did respond with a flurry of its own with somewhat better results, but it didn’t last long. Really quick, does anyone want to venture a guess why they stopped?” He waited through silence for three seconds before saying, “Bueller? Bueller?”
Trent answered immediately. “Ugh! I swear you’re stuck in the eighties, Seth. You didn’t live but three days in the whole decade yet you seem to consider that the heyday of your life.”
Seth frowned at the fence through the binoculars. You teed that one up for him, Seth old boy. Now think fast. He pushed his brain to render a clever reply and redeem himself. He said, “Shut up, Trent.” That’s it? He frowned, concentrating on a better response.
“I don’t know, man,” Braden’s lips smacked with each syllable of his slow and methodical reply.
Seth sighed in relief at somebody else getting into the conversation. “You don’t know what, Braden?”
“Why did they stop?”
Seth thought about it. “Why did who stop?”
Braden chewed through his words. “Pay attention, man. Seth is trying to find out why the bombs stopped.”
“This is Seth, you moron.” The guy doesn’t even know my voice.
“Oh, your voice sounded different, man.”
“Wait a minute. Your voice sounds different, too. You got a mouthful of marbles or something?”
Seth panned back over to the peach orchard while zooming. Juices from a peach ran down Braden’s hand as he pulled it away from the horse’s mouth. He then took a bite out of it himself. He nonchalantly tossed the pit at a tree and wiped his hands on his uniform. He then pulled out one of his patented roll-your-own ‘cigarettes’, fired it up and drew in a long hit. With droopy eyes, he leaned over the horse’s head and smoothly exhaled in front of its nose. The horse’s eyes fluttered as it threw its nose up and inhaled.
I can’t believe this shit. “Stop sharing peaches with your horse and quit getting it high. He won’t be any use to you if he gets the munchies and starts digging around for more peaches.”
Laughter from the others rang through the headsets. Braden exhaled his next hit upwards. The horse threw its head in the direction of the smoke and even jumped a little to catch the remnants.
Braden patted the side of the horse’s neck. “I’m just trying to calm Old Seth down, man. All those bombs made him nervous. He seems to like it. And I like him. What better way to keep him calm than with some of my best shit?”
Old Seth? “You named the horse after me?”
Trent laughed obnoxiously. Victoria giggled in a high pitch. Ida screamed, “Ha!” Lester didn’t comment. Seth shook his head.
“He’s not named after anybody, man. He’s his own person. I call him Old Seth because he has a free spirit kinda like somebody I once knew.” Braden patted Old Seth’s neck. “He likes the smoke, too. Kinda like somebody I once knew, man.”
Victoria piped in with surprise. “Seth? A free spirit? When?”
Seth said, “Never mind that. The horse’s name is Traveler. Uncle Paul named him that.”
“Huh, I didn’t know that, man. I’ve been calling him Old Seth since I started working with him. I think he likes Old Seth better.”
Ida asked, “Wasn’t Traveler the name of General Lee’s horse?
“Yes.” Enough of this. “People, we have a job in front of us.” Crap! Where was I?
In the low light of the cellar, Lester scrolled through a large list of eBooks on his laptop. He opened up The Civil War, Volume 2 by Shelby Foote and began searching keywords. He zeroed in on a paragraph and smiled excitedly. “It’s a trick!”
Braden said, “No, man. I’m not tricking anybody with the horse’s name.”
“I meant the reason the Union stopped with the artillery. It was a trick.”
Finally, somebody to end this cluster. Seth’s teeth gleamed. He swept the binoculars across the far reaches of the field to the farmhouse.
“Wow. Good job, Lester. I knew I could count on you. He’s right, gang. It is a trick. General Meade wanted Robert E. Lee to think the Confederate bombardment destroyed most of his guns. We’ll hear from those guns again shortly and this time, they’re going to have a devastating effect. I hope your stomachs are ready for the ensuing carnage.”
Three Union soldiers entered the front door of the farmhouse.
“FYI, Lester. You have company. How are your accommodations in the cellar?”
The subfloor creaked just a few feet above Lester, who leaned back on his bucket. Heavy dust peppered his St Louis Cardinals hat as the soldiers’ feet shuffled around right above him. He leaned forward and slapped the dust off on a vertical beam behind him. A piece of wood splintered from the beam and vaulted into a hole in the wall where it landed loudly. Lester froze and listened for any activity upstairs. The footsteps retreated.
His main source of light came from seven small flat screen monitors attached to a frame mounted on a wooden support column in front of him. Each monitor displayed a graphical portion that when put together rendered one large paused display of Call of Duty IV. To his right sat two super quiet generators that emitted just a slight humming noise. Two exhaust hoses that merged into one weaved their way to a hole in the wall behind them. On the folding table sat a DVR, a laptop with its desktop mirrored to the monitors, a Gamepad controller, a wireless router, and a network switch. He unpaused the game and took a furious turn at the remote.
“I can’t stand completely straight up, but it’s not much different than being in my basement,” he whispered.
“Are you keeping track of things?”
I’m keeping track of these two guys I’m about to waste. His body flinched as he destroyed two enemies with a machine gun. The remote vibrated loudly in his hands.
“You know it, sir.”
Seth watched the soldiers mount horses and ride off in the direction of the Union lines.
“The soldiers just left. Remember, you’re going to have more company when the fighting starts. They would have to rip up the subfloor to get to you, but be quiet, nonetheless.”
“Sure thing, sir.”
His player rappelled from a helicopter onto a ship during a hurricane. Waves crashed over the sides as he rushed forward and shotgunned another two enemy soldiers stationed on a tower.
He whispered to himself, “Yes! Two more wasted!” He covered his mouth.
“What?” Seth squinted and listened hard. “Are you preoccupied with something, Lester?”
Trent piped in. “The kid’s probably playing Grand Theft Auto. I told you to check his laptop and his bag.”
“Or Call of Duty,” Ida replied.
Braden added, “Yeah, man. That stuff’s not good for you. You can get addicted to that stuff really easy.”
Lester wiped his sweaty forehead with one hand while holding the controller tight in the other. “Uh, no sir. I misspoke. I said I might have to waste those guys.”
Trent said, “Ha!”
Ida laughed.
Braden said, “You sure waste a lot of time on those games, man. I think you need help.”
Lester muted his microphone. He tapped his backpack and said, “GTA is right here, Trent.” He thumbed his nose. “You can just mind your own business, Ida.” He held an invisible cigarette, drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Look who’s talking about addiction, Braden.” He hit the pause button and watched his character fight its way to a set of stairs right into an ambush. An intense firefight ensued. “Crap!” He tapped the controller key in machine gun fashion. “Fire faster!” His character retreated as it fired.
He unmuted his microphone. “I guess I’m just excited about this whole situation, Seth. You know me. Always doing my best to succeed.” Enemy body parts flew everywhere until the danger ceased. He breathed a sigh of relief. Success!
Seth said, “I’m impressed, Lester.” He’s really into this. “Okay, let’s go over our objectives. I’m going to state each of your names and when I do, you’re going to briefly state your objective. If there is a problem, I need to hear it now so we can rectify it.”
“Trent, you go first.”
“Hold on. I wrote it down.”
“You didn’t.”
“Yes, I did. I tried to memorize it before swallowing it, but I wrote it on card stock and I gagged. Now it’s damp with blurred writing. Here goes. Uh, I’d like to thank the Academy. Oops, wrong speech.”
Seth said, “Dammit, Trent!”
“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “Using my trusty handheld as well as my head cam, I am here to capture footage and the voice of one of General Lee’s most trusted advisors, General James Longstreet, better known as ‘Old Peter’. In about twenty minutes, he will approach and spend his time during the entire assault having a sit-down just ten yards away on this here fence. In my hay-covered Snuggie, I want to record the commands he gives to his messengers. I am also here to catch the hope in his eyes before the charge and the doom and sorrow afterwards. Like all of you, I have undergone Wilkerson’s concealment techniques, blood and gore exposure, and I have completed a Bachelor of Arts degree at the USC School of Cinematic Arts with a minor in Geographical Information Systems. I feel that I am up to the challenge. Sir!”
Seth shook his head from behind his camera. “Vic, you’re next. Only state your objective, please. We don’t need your resume.”
Victoria laughed through the first few words. “In addition to the many wireless cameras and microphones we have mounted on trees that are filming and recording the general battle from different angles, I am here to film a side view of Pickett’s Charge. My job is to provide zoomed in footage. I want to watch 12,000 soldiers maneuver their formations before the assault, I want the viewer to see their faces as they march, how survivors fill the holes created by cannonballs, and how they react to the devastation of seeing their brothers in arms fall.”
Seth grinned proudly and opened his mouth to compliment her, but before he could, Vic added, “Oh, and I too am going to USC. Hi, mom!”
Trent said, “Marks Tower, room 614. Remember when…?”
Seth gritted his teeth. “Braden, you’re next.”
Braden crumpled up an empty bag of chips and tucked it into his saddlebag. The horse continued to chew, making loud crunching sounds. “My objective is to be in position to capture footage of the South Cavalry Field battle. Or is it the East Cavalry Battle?”
“You were right the first time.”
“South or East?”
Altogether, they replied, “South!”
“Okay, man. After Pickett’s Charge ends in disaster for the South, Union General Farnsworth will order three separate suicidal cavalry charges against Confederate infantry just a couple hundred yards away from me. During the third charge, Farnsworth will be mortally wounded. I am here to film his death in order to put to rest a rumor that he committed suicide after he fell from his horse. I might catch a glimpse of Custer, too. I have a Steadicam and I know how to use it.”
Seth’s mouth stood wide open. “Wow. For somebody who doesn’t know what field he’s on, you sure know your objective in great detail.”
“Oh yeah, man. I don’t have a degree or anything. I’m just your Uncle Paul’s neighbor.”
Seth closed his eyes and sighed. Victoria’s snickering echoed through all of the headsets.
“Ida, state your objective, please.”
Ida unrolled coils of rope as she spoke. “My objective is to film aerial footage of the entire battle. I have a camera on two sides of the basket of my Union-disguised stationary observation balloon. On one camera I want to see the perfect formations of the soldiers as they march. I want to see the effects of the exploding canisters on the lines. Does the fence create a bottleneck for the Confederates? How difficult was it to get through The Angle? I will control the other camera and try to film General Pickett’s movements throughout the affair.”
“I’m sure you will succeed with all of those things.”
“I want to add that I will be eighteen years old next month. I plan to attend the Missouri University of Science and Technology’s engineering school after I graduate high school next spring. And lastly, someday I’m going to marry Trent.”
“One more month and we’re heading to Vegas, baby!” Trent wolf whistled.
“I want to go to Vegas.”
“We’ll make it a threesome, then.”
“Sounds good.”
Seth held his stomach. I want to go to Vegas? There’s no way I just heard Vic’s voice saying that! The pangs of oncoming cramps crept slowly upward. Diarrhea would surely follow. He looked down, fully expecting that he might have to evacuate his bowels over the side of the platform.
Trent said, “I only feel right taking one of you. That’s a tough decision, lassies. Looks like a catfight is in order. Unless you don’t mind a ménage a trois.”
Braden laughed. “Just name the time and place. Me and Old Seth are there, man.”
“That’s sick, man,” replied Ida in Braden’s voice.
Victoria laughed. “I don’t know why I said that. All this scratching is making me hysterical.”
Braden took another hit from his ‘cigarette’ and slowly exhaled saying, “Aww, man. I’d pay good money to see that.”
Hold it in, Seth. They’re just a bunch of idiots. You can get through this. He breathed slowly. The giant waves of gas in his lower intestine began to recede, but he couldn’t stop its release. Luckily, it was only air. Relief! He wiped the sweat from his brow. Time to change the subject.
“Okay, Lester, we all know why you’re here. Give me a quick status check.”
With the video game paused, Lester sat in a daze reveling in the vivid mental images of Victoria and Ida pulling off clothing and tugging at each other’s hair in an imaginary catfight. The only women with whom he had ever held a conversation outside of his own mother fighting naked. Awesome. All the other girls in his class generally avoided him or used him to provide answers to homework.
“Lester!”
At the sound of Seth’s voice, he caught himself before his bucket slipped from underneath him. He also dropped the controller, unpausing the game at the same time. He grabbed it and paused it again, but not before two enemy soldiers had him dead to rights. He stared at the bullets frozen in midair coming right at him. This cannot be happening. I was almost there! He didn’t even glance at his equipment before replying, “Everything is looking good, sir.” He opened his mouth and let out a blood-curdling silent scream inside his head.
“Double-check everything just to be sure.”
With a pouting lip, he slapped a button on the KVM. The monitors flashed once and live camera feeds appeared. Six monitors each displayed four images. The seventh monitor displayed four grayed-out images each with a ‘Source not found’ message. Crap! He switched to the network application on his laptop. When he hovered his mouse over his network map, the indicator showed a red ‘X’ on AP_Fence . He sent a ping to its IP address, but received no reply. That’s Trent.
He whacked the side of the gray monitor and had to launch himself from his bucket to keep the teetering video wall from collapsing. He took a deep breath and arranged his thoughts. Time to pay the piper.
“Sir, we do have one minor problem.”
“Go ahead.”
“The wireless extender at the fence is down.”
“That’s not minor. That’s Trent and Longstreet. How long has it been down?”
Lester opened up the DVR application and clicked on one of the cameras assigned to that extender. He hit the playback button and rewound until he saw the timestamp on the last frame of footage. He compared it to his watch. Forty-four minutes?! Crap! Curse you, Call of Duty!
“Lester, I repeat. How long has it been down?”
How am I going to explain this to Mr. Westlake when he starts reviewing the videos? “Uh, I’m finding that out right now, sir.” He could either lie or tell the truth. Think of something! “Maybe five minutes.” It’s always easier to lie. Mr. Westlake won’t know anyway. He’ll be more interested in the main battle than the forty-five minutes before it. There will be so much video to go through, he won’t even notice. At least I hope so. Now was not the time to worry about it because right now, a bigger problem loomed.
“It needs a manual reset.”
“Then reset it.”
“I can’t reset it from here. By manual, I mean by the closest man. That would be Trent.”
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
A breeze hit the sweat on Seth’s back and he shivered. Crap. He’s been waiting for something like this. He jerked his scope Trent’s way. Before he could say a word, he spotted the hay jostling back and forth.
“Shakin’ the bush, boss.”
Ida’s cackle echoed through the headsets.
Trent placed his handheld camera on a rail and aimed it to where Longstreet was going to be just in case he didn’t get back to his position in time. He began to belly crawl in the opposite direction toward the extender, mounted at a high point on the fence a good seventy-five yards away. He spit out a piece of hay caught in his teeth. “I was getting bored hanging out with you losers anyway.”
Seth watched large sections of hay topple over as he followed Trent’s path. “Oh, geez. Slow down, Trent. You keep going like that and we’ll have crop circles.”
Trent stopped. “Let’s see. How should I proceed? Oh, I’ll swim through.” He stretched his arms forward and put his hands together. He then opened them to push apart the hay without breaking it before sliding through. “My breast stroke ain’t nothing to write home about, but I’m doing it.”
“Just get there, reset it, and get back.”
Now that that’s over… Lester switched back to Call of Duty. The two bad guys’ bullets hung in midair waiting for him to push the pause button so they could find their marks. This was his last life. This really sucks! I’ll never beat this round. This is like the worst thing that could happen. He resumed the game and his character took the rounds in his head and chest. I’m not starting over today. His shoulders slouched before he opened up Grand Theft Auto IV unaware of the adult skunk moseying its way out of the hole in the corner of the wall behind him.
Victoria rolled side to side in the row between the stalks of corn trying to create enough friction to relieve the waves of itchiness that swept over every square inch of her skin. Occasionally, she rocked into a stalk and dried corn rained down on her. The scratching only made it worse. She took turns rubbing each knee and elbow on the ground in an effort to stall the sudden spasms of agony. I feel like I’m being eaten alive! A lone crow landed on a stalk just above her head. A second later, another landed to her right.
Braden bit off a hunk of jerky he got from Wilkerson. “Old Seth, Wilkerson sure makes some good jerky.” He chewed it up and tucked it away in his cheek like Wilkerson. He had always wanted to be just like him. He wasn’t some cranky old dude everybody feared. Braden felt some sort of bond with him. It probably wasn’t a good idea to cross him because he had heard stories.
He waved the jerky in front of Old Seth’s nose and the horse whinnied its disapproval. “Not a carnivore, huh?” The horse lifted its nose up at the peach trees and snorted.
He said, “Oh, you want another peach. Hold on a second and I’ll find you a good one.” He scoped out the overhanging branches before leading the horse to the largest peach tree in the orchard. On the highest branch, one large ripe peach stood out from the more accessible ones. “Oh man, that one’s big enough for three horses.” He grabbed a branch and pulled himself up until he stood tippy-toe in the saddle. He gave the branch a vigorous shake, but the peach held firm. He kicked the slender tree trunk, but it wouldn’t come loose. “Ugh. Looks like I have to go after it. Hang tight, Old Seth. I’ll get it for you.”
Ida hammered the metal stakes that held the short balloon ropes until about a foot stuck up from the hard ground. She then stretched out four lengths of rope next to each other and walked off twenty-five long steps before cutting them all. “That should leave about seventy feet or so. Enough to clear the trees and allow good views all around.” As she began to tie the long ropes to the basket, the knots on three of the short ropes loosened around the stakes.
Victoria paused to take note of her situation. “Am I suddenly allergic to corn? I’ve eaten tons of it in my life. I’ve shucked it. I’ve even decorated for Halloween with it.” Four crows stared down at her like vultures eyeing a carcass. When they cawed, she gave them the evil eye. “What the hell are you cawing at? You’re scavengers. I’m not roadkill.” She checked her watch. “How can anybody expect me to get through another hour of this shit? My body’s on fire.”
Several more crows appeared. A symphony of caws began. One landed right in front of the camera and bobbed its head up and down. “Get out of the way, you damn photobomber!” Two more landed and rocked the cornstalk just above her. One more landed in front of the camera. The noise made her ears ring.
Braden stretched out on the peach tree limb, his fingers clawing at air. “I might be able to shake it off from here, Old Seth, man.” He shook the lower limb as hard as he could, but the peach didn’t come loose. He grabbed the limb above it, but stopped short and listened.
The ruckus from the crows blasted through the headset and forced Seth to turn the volume down. “What is going on?” He checked Victoria’s position and watched as a large flock of the black birds flushed across the field and joined the black blob around her position.
“Vic, you’re attracting a lot of attention from those crows. Are you feeding them or something?”
Vic slapped at the stalks around her. “Go away!” She pulled her microphone closer to her mouth. “No, I’m not feeding them. These assholes just came out of nowhere. Maybe they think I’m stealing their food.” She waved her hands to scare them away, but they kept coming.
“Looks like you need about five scarecrows down there. Do whatever you can to clear them out.”
“I’m trying.” She rolled over and continued to shake the stalks around her, but they still kept coming. She broke off an ear of corn and threw it at the ones nearest to her. That didn’t work. She grabbed a stalk and scratched her back with it.
“What’s your problem, birds? Try this shit back home and Wilkerson would shoot your asses. If I had a shotgun, I’d shoot you myself.”
She looked around on the ground for something else to shoo them with only to find kernels of dried up corn sprinkled all around her. “Oh, crap! That’s what they’re after. I must have shaken them loose when I was scratching.” Several crows picked at the kernels. “I might as well have rang their dinner bell. I’d better move or they might start pecking my eyes out.”
Trent stopped dead nearly halfway to the wireless extender when he heard a horse whinny close behind him. His eyes grew wide as the sound of heavy footsteps rustled the hay.
“Seth, buddy, look my way and tell me what you see.”
Seth panned the scope. Crap. “There’s one Confederate on a horse approaching you.”
“Is it Longstreet?”
“No. It must be a scout finding a safe spot for Longstreet at the fence.”
“Sounds like I’m about to be trampled. Can you verify that I’m not?”
Seth zoomed in on the rider, who looked back over his shoulder. “His track leads to you, but I have a feeling he’s getting ready to turn back.”
A panicked Trent whispered, “Turn back? He’s only a step or two away from crushing my manliness, my friend.” A hoof clopped between his knees. He buried his face in the hay whimpering and waiting for that one more painful step. He said, “I’m about to lose my whole reason for living. It was fun while it lasted, good buddy.”
Ida screamed, “Protect yourself, Trent! I want children!”
“I can’t move or I’ll spook the horse and then who knows what it’ll destroy.” Trent stifled his trembling legs as best he could. “Turn around, horse. Turn around, horse. Please go back. Don’t step on me, horse.” The horse blew loudly through its nose. “Oh no. It smells me.” Something padded like a boxing glove thumped his backside once. “I’m dead.”
Ida sobbed. “I’ll always love you anyway, Trent. We can try in vitro fertilization.”
Seth watched the horse’s nose jab into the hay. “Incredible.”
Trent took another blow to his backside. “Ow.” The third time something gripped his Ghillie suit and lifted him a few inches off the ground. “Just put a bullet in my head, soldier.” He felt a yank and his suit tear open before falling back to the ground. He lay still expecting the loud click of a pistol hammer, but he only heard the sound of chewing.
“Seth?”
“Yeah?” Seth watched the horse chew. Surely, the rider had discovered him. He would be branded a spy and shot before he had a chance to off himself. The mission would be scrapped and they would have to do the whole thing over again. He’d suffer the wrath of Uncle Paul. He reached into his pocket and found the vial, ready to announce to everyone the order to abort.
Trent whispered, “This horse just tore off a piece of my ass and ate it! I think I’m fine. Except I’m feeling a little violated here.”
Ida said, “Whew! What a relief! Now I want at least five kids.” Tying the last long rope to the basket, she held her stomach as she giggled. She didn’t notice the knots on all four short ropes had loosened and slipped to the tops of their stakes.
Victoria rolled around scratching herself in agony while more crows gathered around her. “I gotta do something.” When she pulled up her sleeve and scratched at her bare arm, she noticed the red spots. “What the hell?”
Lester, on the other hand, had found a horror of his own: he now stared down the barrel of a skunk rear end in a cellar that reeked of gasoline. He muted his headset. “Where the hell did you come from?” He glanced at his game on the monitors. One minute he had his character running from the cops with its Wanted Meter at a full six stars and the next, a loaded stink bomb performed a walking handstand across the table with its squirt hole aimed right at him. He leaned back. “Take it easy now.”
Even with the likelihood of a mission abort, Seth chuckled at the schadenfreude of watching the horse swallow a chunk of Trent’s Ghillie suit. He watched as it lowered its head for another mouthful before the rider yanked on the reigns, turned it around, and guided it away. He let the vial slip from his fingers back into his pocket. “Trent, you’re clear. Now get moving before the ravenous horse tells his friends about your greener pasture. Or should I say greener ass-ture? Right?”
Braden replied, “Boo, man.”
Lester traced the skunk’s steps backwards to the overturned gas can under the table. “Well, that solves that smell.” He eased the toe of his boot under it and gave it a nudge. “Crap! It’s almost empty. How long did a full tank last in the generators?” He picked it up slowly as not to spook the skunk and swirled it to feel what little was left. “Why you little jerk.”
He leaned back. “Fortunately, you’re prepared for a moment like this, Lester old boy. All those ‘Wild America’ episodes you watched will now come in handy.” He grinned at the skunk. “Did you know they had an episode all about you? Yes, sir, and I remember it very well.” He waved his hand at it. “Did you see that?” He shook his head. “No? Didn’t think so. You guys couldn’t pass the vision test to get a driver’s license.”
The skunk turned its eyes toward the light of the monitors.
“That’s right. You like those lights. I promise I won’t turn them off if you just go back to your little home.” He grabbed his flashlight then put it back down. “What are you thinking, Lester? One flash and it’ll open up its putrid flood gates.” He reached across the table and the skunk flinched. It then hissed. “Now don’t be that way. Nobody want rabies. I’m just going to check Trent’s feed on the KVM.” He gently pressed the switch.
Trent crawled steadily. “I’m almost there, but it’s a little drafty in my shorts.”
Seth sighed. “It’s nearly ninety degrees out here. You should be happy those parts of your body can still feel anything.” He checked his watch. Ten minutes until Pickett’s Charge. If this is the worst thing that happens…
Victoria screeched, “Aaaah! Ants!”
Seth yanked his headset from his ears so fast his elbow slipped from the platform, sending half his body teetering over the edge. “Shit!” The spotting scope slipped from his hands and hit the platform as he caught himself. When he regained his balance, he put his eye to the scope and saw Vic’s flailing arms batting away several dive-bombing crows as she ran through the corn.
“Get away from me, you goddamn crows!”
Vic’s wild screams blasted from Seth’s headset still lying on the platform until she disappeared in the corn. He grabbed it and put it on. “Vic, are you okay?”
“Trent, you idiot! You had me lie down on an ant metropolis!” She shed her long sleeve shirt and flung it into the corn. As she ran, the rows of corn swayed as violently as they would if an elephant charged through them. “I’ll get you for this!”
“Careful, Vic. That’s my man you’re threatening,” Ida replied.
“Stuff it, Ida!”
Trent, now just a few feet away from the extender, stopped. “Ants? What kind of problem can they cause?”
“They’re using me as a buffet!”
Lester spoke as gently as a mother talking to her newborn. “You’re a pretty skunk. I bet you win all the skunk beauty pageants. Miss Gettysburg, I’m sure.”
Skunk? Seth rested his head on the platform. “Lester, what the hell is wrong with you? What’s wrong with all of you? Did every one of you morons decide to go mad at the same time?”
“Well, sir, I have company in the form of a black animal with a white stripe down the middle of its back.”
“Crap! Be careful. They carry rabies.”
Vic screamed, “I thought I was allergic to corn! I saw the bites on my arms. I got up and they were everywhere! On the ground, on me! Millions of them biting the crap out of me!”
Trent replied, “Millions? I find that hard to believe. I’m only human. I can’t get everything right. It was an honest mistake.”
“Honest?” Her t-shirt floated to the ground. She now bolted through the corn in no general direction in just her bra while frantically wiping away straggler ants from her upper body. “There’s nothing honest about anything you do.” She stopped and pulled one leg free from her pants.
“Yes, you’re a good skunk. Now if you would just put your tail down and move off the table, I can get back to my game.” The skunk squeaked and put its hind legs down on the table. It’s working! “That’s it.”
“Dammit, Lester!” Seth shook his head and gritted his teeth.
“Ha! Told ya.” Ida stood in the basket organizing her gear. “He’s been playing video games. Maybe you can invite the skunk to be player two.” She lifted one leg over the side and straddled the side of the basket. She looked at the ground and her eyes widened.
Trent crawled onward. “How was I to know about an anthill, Vic? I’m pretty good with tracking bullets, but who’s so good they can plot insect villages? I didn’t have enough time to find every detail.”
Seth gulped down water from his bottle and wiped his forehead. He muted his microphone. “Okay. Trent’s out in no man’s land trying to fix a wireless extender, Lester’s conversing with a skunk that he probably conjured up out of the smoke of one of Braden’s cigarettes, and Vic’s crying like a banshee while running God knows where. What’s next?”
Braden’s voice blasted through the headsets. “Oh crud, man! Ow, ow!”
Seth shrugged. “Here we go.” He panned to the peach orchard in time to see a Confederate soldier belly flop from the top of a peach tree. “Serves him right.” He turned his attention back to the cornfield. “I’ll deal with him later.”
“Vic, you need to calm down and get back to your position. The shooting will start shortly and you will definitely be in danger. Back me up on this, Trent.”
“I’m only going to say this once. If any of you ever tell anyone I said it, I’ll kill you. That includes your parents, your siblings, your grandparents, and your pets. Okay, here goes. Seth is right.”
Seth bit his lip. “There aren’t many more places in that cornfield that offer better safety than your assigned spot, Vic.”
Braden lay on his stomach struggling for air on top of the many mashed rotten peaches on the ground next to Old Seth. When he finally caught his breath, he fire-rolled while slapping at the big black hornets attacking his back. After a few seconds, he jumped to his feet and grabbed the saddle horn. From the branch high above came the buzz saw, a bigger swarm of hornets in a dive bomb from the large nest. He put his right foot in the stirrup and before he swung his left leg over, several of them had already made contact with Old Seth’s hindquarters. The horse let out a high-pitched whinny and bolted like a thoroughbred from the starting gate at Churchill Downs.
“It’s okay, Fluffy.” Lester snuck around behind the monitors. The high-tailed skunk danced with its rear end still aimed at his vacated bucket. What am I going to do even if I get it off the table? I don’t know where it came from so I don’t know where to guide it away. I’m stuck here with it. Scratchy whines came from his throat as he mulled his next move. The skunk stepped toward his voice and ducked under the monitors. “That’s right. I named you Fluffy because your fur looks so soft. Let’s just follow good old Lester’s voice.”
“Ouch!” Victoria slapped the slashing corn leaves away from her bare skin as she fast walked in just her underwear, bra, and camo boots. Several times, she stopped to check for ants on her arms and legs. Red welts and thin red lines showed prominently all over her creamy skin. “Screw this. I’ll take my chances on a different spot, Seth.”
Seth said, “You can’t.”
“Don’t tell me what I can’t do! I’ll go as far away from those, those woman-eaters as I damn well please.”
Trent reached up and held the reset button on the extender until the red light flashed green. “I’m heading back, boss.” He lifted his head and saw Longstreet a good two hundred yards away. He looked to his right and grinned. “Unless you want me to check on Vic.”
Seth’s insides boiled. “No! Get back to your assigned spot.” The extender. “Hold on for a second. Lester, check the video feed.”
Lester had coaxed Fluffy off the table and onto the beam holding the monitors. The skunk clasped its claws around the rotting wood and began to climb down. Lester backed away and flipped the KVM switch, illuminating the cellar even more. All twenty-eight images appeared. Fluffy, attracted to the light, poked its head out from under the monitors. Still using his gentle voice, Lester said, “We’re back up, sir. You see that picture right there, Fluffy? That’s General Longstreet.”
The skunk’s claws tore away chunks of the post as it slid down. When it touched the dirt floor, it ambled toward the generators.
“That’s right. Nothing important over here. You just run along home.”
Seth lay there with his mouth and eyes wide open. As long as it’s working, I’m not even going to ask. He shook his head rapidly. “Uh, I guess you can head back, Trent.”
Trent began a fast crawl. “Lester, why do you feel that you have to talk to a skunk like Mr. Rogers?”
“I don’t want to trigger it. Besides, this voice just seduced it off my table, although I’m really freaking out here, guys. I don’t know where it went. I have a bad feeling. Maybe Fluffy’s planning to attack me with a vengeance.”
Trent spit out a loud laugh. “How close did it even get to you?”
“A foot or so.”
“Oh, no. That’s bad.”
“Why’s that bad?”
“Did you hold your breath when you were face to face?
“Uh, not really.”
“Then your little friend might have breathed some rabies into you. You know if you become infected, you might get lockjaw and start foaming at the mouth. If they catch it in time, doctors give you something like thirty injections with a really long and thick needle. Even the toughest men cry when that pencil-sized needle penetrates their midsections like a hot knife. And don’t get me started on the skunk spray. Whoo eee! When they spray you, the smell lasts for weeks.”
Lester whined.
Seth said, “Shut up, Trent. Lester, he’s just scaring you. Rabies is not an airborne disease. At least from what I hear. If Fluff – the skunk hasn’t sprayed you yet, it probably won’t. Just make sure the video feeds are recording. We can deal with smells and/or rabies later. Right now, I’m more worried about Vic. Vic, are you alright?”
Victoria hunkered deep inside the rows of corn. “Yes, but what if another bunch of ants attack me. I have no protection because I’m practically naked right now.”
Trent gleefully said, “Let me clothe you with my body, my lady.” He did an about face and his head popped up so Seth could see.
Seth’s head filled with images of Vic’s creamy nude skin against the backdrop of the corn. He said, “Don’t even think about it. Try to find your clothes, Vic. Then get back to your spot. You don’t have to lie down on the anthill again. Just grab your camera and squat if you have to.” He imagined her squatting in her underwear and grinned. Okay, stop.
Vic replied, “I’ll try.”
“Some other time then.” Trent continued toward his spot.
Lester’s eyes perked up. He pored over every monitor in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the half-nude blonde beauty. “Come on.” He manipulated the zooms on the nearby cameras until his eyes drooped. “Nuts.” He noticed Braden’s hat camera feed bobbing up and down. In addition, the Steadicam feed displayed only the top of a horse’s head as it raced through a field. He tapped on the monitor out of habit. “What’s going on there?”
Ida’s balloon and basket cleared the treetops the instant the soldiers began their march.
Seth pumped his fist. “Yes! Ida, you are definitely the star of this show.” The barrage of Union artillery began. He wondered if any of the 12,000 Confederate soldiers standing with their backs to him even noticed the balloon while trying to keep their lines in formation during the devastation. “What a production this is going to be.”
He checked his camera and said, “Okay, gang. The battle has begun. Allow me to quickly state my objective. I am here to film the entire retreat. I want to zoom in on the faces of men who know all is lost. I also want to see the bravery of the soldiers helping their wounded brothers back to safety while under cannon and musket fire.”
Bombs exploded all along the lines, taking out ten or fifteen-foot-wide swaths of humanity at a time. Still they kept marching. Unbelievable.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I am here to make sure all of you perform your jobs to the best of your ability.”
“Yeah, how’s that working out?” Trent chided.
Hoping Fluffy had lost all interest in him, Lester scanned the floor with his flashlight and clicked it off when he caught it walking toward the generators. “Just keep exploring over there.” He refreshed Braden’s feeds and checked Fluffy again. In his soft voice he said, “Good skunk.” Fluffy stood up and looked his way. He smiled when its nose twitched. “You have such a cute nose. Yes you do. My voice is soothing, isn’t it? Maybe I ought to use it on the ladies. Huh? You think so?”
Vic said, “Yeah, Lester. I’m sure all you need is skunk talk to help you score.”
Shut up, Vic. Again, he noticed the sketchy images from Braden’s feeds. “Braden, check your cameras. I’m seeing some strange stuff coming from your hat cam and your Steadicam seems to be stuck in 4x mode.”
“4x mode?” Seth left his camera on the line of soldiers and grabbed his scope. The peach orchard lay empty. “Shit!”
“Braden, come in.” He waited. Shrapnel from a canister peppered the trunk of his tree. He cowered. That was close. “Braden, do you copy?”
Victoria shook her shirt out before putting it back on. Now fully dressed, she stomped the anthill into oblivion and kicked kernels away before checking her camera, which hadn’t missed a moment of filming. The sound of a galloping horse grew louder. When she raised her face from the camera, the blur of Old Seth raced past. “What the hell? Braden!”
“I-I-I’m here, m-a-a-an! A cloud of hornets is stinging the shit out of me! I think Old Seth is getting the worst of it. I can’t make him stop running.”
“Where?” Seth panned as far right as he could stretch, but there was still no sign of Braden.
“He-e-e-ading your w-a-a-ay!”
“He just went past me, Seth.” Victoria focused her camera on Old Seth racing across the field.
Seth spotted a riderless horse running at top speed in front of the cornfield toward the main lines of the assault. It was Old Seth, all right. But where the hell was Braden? “I can’t see you, Braden.” In the rear of the horse’s far side, Braden’s waving hand came into view as the horse dragged him along by his stuck right foot in the stirrup. He used one hand to hold his hat on. He used the other to wave away the swarm of hornets. Seth watched him snatch a hornet into his fist only to release it after it stung his palm. “Wow. This scope is amazing. Braden, he’ll drag you until your back is raw. Order him to stop.”
“Who-o-oa, O-o-old Seth! Who-oa, man!”
Old Seth slowed a little until the cloud of hornets caught up and walloped his rump with a fresh round of stings. The horse navigated around fresh craters and dodged exploding bombs as it approached to within a hundred yards of Trent’s position.
Braden said, “I think my back is alright, man. The grass actually doesn’t feel too bad with this thick coat I’m wearing. I’m getting a little groggy from the stings, though. The bastards have stung me probably dozens of times.” Old Seth’s head and neck began to swoon. “I think Old Seth is feeling it, too.”
Seth said, “Maybe he’ll fall out soon. Trent, Braden’s coming your way. See if you can do something to stop the horse.”
A round landed just fifty yards in front of Seth sending shrapnel straight into the branches above his head. Way too close. A few seconds later, a tree twenty yards away took a direct hit and nearly caught the edge of his platform as it fell. That’s definitely not supposed to happen. He squinted in Trent’s direction. “Hmm.”
Trent huffed and puffed. “Yeah, I’m not exactly in my spot right now. The horse will probably kick over from exhaustion any minute now anyway.”
“Who-o-a, Old Seth!” Drool and sweat from the horse rained down on Braden’s face so heavily that it pinned two hornets against his cheeks. They struggled before sinking their stingers into his skin. “Ow!”
Seth said, “Trent, you have to help him stop right now. I don’t want him to end up in the middle of everything.” He rubbed his eyes. “Wait. What do you mean you’re not exactly in your spot? Where are you?”
“I’m living the dream, boss. By the way, I almost forgot to tell you. Be ready for some hellfire.”
“I knew it!” Seth opened his mouth to begin a long rant, but he stopped short. He checked Trent’s assigned location and found his camera still sitting on the fence aimed at Longstreet. He zoomed out a hundred yards. In the middle of the field, a single Confederate soldier skipped like a schoolgirl toward the two lines. At one point, the figure did a cartwheel to avoid cannon fire.
“You’re joining the battle? Are you crazy!?”
“I believe you’re correct on both counts.” Victoria zoomed in to see Trent take a swig from his canteen before hitting the dirt as a bomb exploded just a few yards away. “I also think he had that uniform under his ghillie suit the entire time.”
“You are correct, madam!” Trent leapt back his feet. “I’m storming the castle!”
Lester couldn’t take his eyes off the monitors. “Whoa. This is ten times better than Call of Duty!”
Trent and Vic simultaneously said, “Told you.”
Seth sighed. “Call of Duty, Lester?”
Lester’s eyes went from one monitor to the next. “I’m just talking to myself, sir.” The skunk began to chew on one of the main power cords connected to a generator.
Braden said, “Goo-ood news, man. We’re slowing down. Maybe Old Seth’s about run out.”
Seth said, “Bad news, man. Your old buddy is slowing down to drag your ass over a fence.”
Braden scowled as he approached the fence. “Bad, Old Seth! Bad horse!”
The horse lifted his front hooves over the top rail and threw his back legs high behind him, slinging Braden over without touching the fence. Braden’s backside hit the ground softly and the horse’s pace quickened. “We-e ma-ade it!”
“Congratulations. You win nothing.” Seth zoomed out and checked the horse’s path. Soon, it would overtake Trent. “Hey Trent, they’re coming up right behind you. If you can take a moment from your combat, please help him out.”
Lester threw up his hands. “Fluffy, now don’t chew on that. Let it go and we’ll play a nice game.” He reached into his backpack and rustled his hand inside before removing empty candy bar wrappers. “Crap.”
Another round of shrapnel rocked the tree just below Seth. On the platform a foot from his right shoulder a one-inch hole appeared. He planned this. “Trent, you asshole! I’m about to be turned into Swiss cheese here. Lester’s talking to a potentially rabid skunk like Timmy talking to Lassie. Vic is in her underwear fighting ants and crows.”
Vic said, “You’ll be happy to know I’m fully clothed.”
“Whatever. Trent thinks he’s Stonewall Jackson and I sincerely hope he takes a musket ball right between the eyes. And on top of that, Braden is being dragged around by a high horse.”
Laughs all around. Trent said, “High horse.”
Braden said, “Good one, Seth.”
Trent said, “First time for everything.”
“Shut up, Trent! You all realize what Uncle Paul’s reaction is gonna be. Right? We’ll be lucky to get another assignment after this. He might even sic Wilkerson on our asses.” He slowed his breathing and closed his eyes in an attempt to stifle the oncoming hyperventilation. “Ida is the only one here I can count on.” He took a deep breath and opened his eyes just as a dark shadow drifted into the middle of the field.
Victoria emerged from the shadow and she pulled back from her camera, looking toward the sky with wide eyes. “Uh, Seth, you might want to take that back about Ida. Look who’s floating over Cemetery Ridge.” She then pointed her camera and began filming.
Seth peeled away the leaves above him to set his own eyes on the source of the shadow over Cemetery Ridge. The supposed stationary balloon had somehow broken loose and floated well past the treetops straight toward the line of Confederate troops. Four long ropes hanging from each corner of its basket swayed in the wind, their ends dangling several stories from the tops of the hay. About ten feet up from the end of one of them, Ida held on, struggling to climb.
Seth bowed his head and sighed. “I stand corrected.”
Victoria zoomed in her camera on Ida. Every time the young girl thrust her free hand upward, she slipped a foot or so further down the rope. Victoria cringed. “Ah. She’s gonna have one hell of a rope burn.”
“Holy shit!” Trent stopped dead in his tracks. The balloon’s shadow engulfed Longstreet’s horse spooking it and sending it bucking in a circle. Longstreet struggled with the reins for a moment until finally gaining control of the horse before it threw him. Trent peered at the nearest Confederate soldiers’ faces. Most only stared upward as they continued their march, but several stopped, went down on one knee, and took aim. Smoke erupted in random succession from the ends of their musket barrels at they let loose a volley into the sky. “Nice try, guys. You’re not going to pop the balloon with those small…”
“Ow! They got me in the ass!” Ida grabbed at her left buttock. Her right hand slipped from the rope and she fell a few feet down before stopping herself with both hands. She stared up at the blood-streaked rope. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold on. My head’s starting to spin.”
Vic said, “She’s going into shock.”
Trent watched Ida slip down the rope. “Crap. Hang in there, Ida!” He glanced at the soldiers reloading their muskets. “I’m going to come and get you!” He noted the distance to get underneath her and grumbled, “Where’s a horse when you need one?”
“At your service, man!” Braden smiled at Trent as his head bobbed up and down from the side of Old Seth only thirty yards away and closing fast. “Just stay the course, Old Seth.”
Trent’s mind gathered up images of Roy Rogers performing rodeo tricks, especially the one where he grabbed the saddle horn and flipped himself into the saddle as Trigger ran past. “I can do that.” He held his arms out wide. Old Seth slowed a little. “Just watch his eyes, Roy. He’s gonna veer one way or the other at the last second.” He spread his feet apart. Old Seth glanced left. “You’re mine now.”
In the farmhouse, Lester found himself in a game of tug of war on the main power cord with a playful growling skunk and its sharp clamping teeth. “This isn’t very fun, Fluffy.” The harder Lester pulled, the harder Fluffy yanked back growling with foam spewing from his nose and mouth. “Now don’t get angry. Damn, you’re stronger than I thought. Come on now, let go and we’ll find you something to eat.”
Seth said, “Lester?”
Lester replied, “Yeah?”
Seth scratched his head. “Forget it.” He zeroed in on the field in front of him just in time to see Trent grab the saddle horn and let his feet fly behind him. In less than a second, he planted his rear on the saddle textbook rodeo style with the horse still at a dead run. “Whoa.” Seth’s eyes watered at the poetry of it all. A warm feeling rose in his chest and he smiled. “If all else fails, at least we’ll have this highlight. I hope we got multiple angles on film.”
Trent smiled proudly. “Whoo hoo! That was freakin’ awesome. I hope somebody got that on film.” He reared back on the reins. “Whoa, Old Seth.”
Seth smirked. “He never fails to ruin the mood.”
The grunting skunk gave a hard pull, sinking its teeth deeper into the cord. Suddenly, sparks flew from its eyes and the foaming, flopping, flaming skunk let loose its rotten liquid in every direction as the electrical current ceased all voluntary control over its muscles. A flash of sparks hit the base of the gasoline-soaked beam and a blue flame slowly climbed it and snaked across the table. Lester lunged for the extinguisher next to the generator, but the subfloor above him had already exploded in flames. White hot embers rained down on him. A large orange one splatted onto his laptop keyboard and sank into the touchpad and clean through the bottom cover. “Fire! Fluffy’s dead! He’s fried to a crisp! I’m trapped! Abort! Abort! I’ll see you back…”
Seth jammed his headset against his ear. “Lester, say again.” No answer. “Now what happened?” He scoped back toward the farmhouse. “Holy shit!” His immediate thought went to the Human Torch superhero and how you could see the man behind the flames, except in this case, no wooden structure existed behind these flames. Four walls still stood six inches thick, of course, but no longer as wooden building materials. No, the blazing inferno had assumed the shape and thickness of the walls and the roof at least for a moment. “Wow, it’s a literal house of fire.” The blaze continued to flash around the building so quickly, smoke didn’t appear until after everything turned to ash. Seth shook his head and sucked in his cheeks. “I guess that’s it.” He turned back to Trent, who still hadn’t hindered Old Seth’s determination to keep running.
“Trent.” He waited. “Trent, come in.” Then it dawned on him: the fire had destroyed Lester’s wireless communication system.
Trent stuck his chest out as soon as Old Seth came to a halt. He glanced over at Braden, whose swollen eyes stared up at him. He said, “Gas, grass, or ass, buddy. Nobody rides for free.”
“Wow, what a ride, man. You think these stings are gonna come back with me?” He felt the bumps on his face.
Trent nodded. “I imagine so, but I don’t think the grocery store carries as much butter as you’re gonna need, my friend. I’d opt for a plastic surgeon, too, because you look like the Elephant Man. Now, if you’ll remove your foot, I’ll go rescue Ida.”
Braden tugged repeatedly to no effect. Trent kicked at the boot three times before it slid from the stirrup. He pulled on the reins and kicked his feet into Old Seth’s sides, but the horse began to wobble. It snorted several times and drool poured from his nostrils. “Move aside, Braden. I don’t think Old Seth’s gonna stay on his feet much longer.” Braden rolled away as Trent jumped. The dark shadow swallowed them.
Not far behind them, the troops unleashed another volley.
When Braden rolled onto his back, he looked into the sky. “Now that the adrenaline’s not pumping, I don’t feel so good, man.”
Trent said, “You’re probably going into shock. Just take it easy.”
Braden blinked and squinted before opening his eyes as wide as he could through the swelling. “I think I’m hallucinating.” He waved. “Hi, Ida, man!”
When Trent looked straight up, a long thin string of blood sketched its strange calligraphy on his face. He grinned. “No good deed...”
For Seth, it all happened in slow motion: Ida falling head first like a ragdoll from, he guessed, about five stories. Trent’s Adam’s apple popping free when his bloody neck snapped backwards as his and Ida’s faces mashed together for one last kiss. Old Seth staggering one way and Braden rolling the other like partners locked in a new type of dance that ended when the horse’s full weight crushed him into the hard ground beneath the hay.
Seth closed his eyes, finding calm in a faraway world. The bomb that exploded directly under him sounded no different from the distant echoes of the others. A rush of air hit him in the face when a falling tree limb nearly took his head off on its way to the side of the platform. He opened his eyes and stared. He stared at the pile of bodies until thirty seconds, forty-five seconds, a whole minute passed. A few seconds more and the bodies – including the horse’s carcass - faded away leaving nothing but recesses in the hay. He sighed in relief that Old Seth hadn’t suffered long. The balloon: vanished into thin air, too. The long ropes landed in squiggly lines on the hay not far from where the incident occurred. He no longer cared about the soldiers’ reactions or Longstreet. Or even the blood and gore. He didn’t even care what Uncle Paul would say and do.
“I guess that’s that.” He shrugged and rounded up his equipment.
After he filled his bag, he found Victoria, her eyes looking back at him through her own binoculars. He gave her the thumbs up and she nodded. He brandished his pill up high so she could see. She held hers up as a toast to his own and placed it in her mouth. He did the same. At the same time she bit down, Seth’s tree took a direct hit and the ensuing fireball burned a final image in her eyes.
Epilogue
The six members of the crew sat on metal folding chairs around the large oak desk. Paul Westlake entered the garage office and sat down on his throne of expensive soft leather. He said, “Difficult mission, huh?”
Ida squinted, Vic grimaced, and Lester pushed his fingers against his ears as the deep voice echoed off the walls. Westlake strummed his fingers loudly on the desktop.
Everyone nodded.
A jittery Braden scratched at the bumps on his face and forehead. “Uh huh, man.”
Westlake continued, “I’d say the most difficult one yet. Let’s not forget that you screwed up the easiest one, though. Need I remind you of the Sergeant York fiasco?”
He eyed Seth, who looked at the floor with a flushed face.
“This one shouldn’t have gone three takes. Realistically, two takes maximum. I need some input here.”
He nodded at Seth.
Seth cleared his throat. “Uncle Paul, I understand how you might be disappointed in the heavy amount of resources you sacrificed for this one. I actually think it went well after I ironed out the – he glanced at each member - very few human-caused issues during the first take. I feel that we did improve greatly the second time around even with the free-spirited behavior of certain crew members.” His eyes burned holes in Trent’s stupid grin. “We did successfully complete the mission and we came back with some remarkable and usable footage from all three attempts. I believe this experience prepared us for any future challenges.”
The rest of the group nodded and grunted in agreement.
Westlake sat back with his arms crossed. “So you’re saying the chances of this happening again are?” He opened his arms to accept their responses.
Everybody voiced either a ‘nil’ or ‘zero’, except Braden, who said, “Yes, sir, man.”
Trent nodded at Lester. “As long as somebody doesn’t bring his video games and make pets of rabid animals again, we should be fine. What did you call it? Fluffy? Or was it Crispy?”
Lester’s changing voice whimpered, “I didn’t invite Fluff – the skunk into that cellar.” He looked at Seth while pointing his thumb at Trent. “This coming from the guy with the half-eaten butt who thought it would be a good idea to storm the beaches.”
Trent stared straight ahead and grinned. “It wasn’t Normandy, doofus.”
Lester gritted his teeth. “I didn’t mean it literally…” He thought for a second and blurted out, “Doofus!”
Seth groaned. “I think what Lester is saying, Trent, is that you know better.”
Trent slapped his palms on his knees. “What can I say? In a moment of intense inspiration, I gotta do what I feel.”
Lester turned to Braden. “This guy steal peaches from a hornet’s nest to feed his munchie-fevered and doped-up horse and then winds up on a steeple chase from hell.”
Braden stretched back in his chair and crossed his arms, his still swollen face staring at Lester. “Hey, man. What did I ever do to you? You know what? I’m not even going to dignify your cheap shot with a response.” He paused and looked the other way, saying under his breath, “You still smell like shit, by the way.”
Lester slapped his knees. “That was a response, man!” Barely holding back angry tears, he added, “You need more butter. You still look like Eric Stoltz in “Mask”. Man!”
Braden said, “Ah, if you think this is bad, man, I’d hate to be Longstreet. Those hornets went after him next. They probably had a whole regiment churning butter for days. Anyway, I was just repeating a fact about how you smell, man.” He pointed at Ida. “She said it when we walked in.”
Lester’s wide eyes fell on Ida. “Oh, you mean genius girl here who can’t tie a good knot?” He leaned back, his eyes wide.
Ida cringed then blushed. “Thanks, Braden.”
Trent tried to lighten the mood. “Careful, Lester, that’s my woman you’re talking about.” He winked at Ida. “Of course she knows the difference in lengths of rope.” He nudge her. “Right?”
Ida snapped and sobbed openly. “I don’t know how my ropes came untied. I didn’t mean it.”
Braden said, “Sorry, man.”
Ida sniffed several times and wiped her eyes. Just when she seemed calm, she screamed, “I crushed the man I love to death! Maybe if I’d have lost some weight…” She sobbed through her words. “He would have li-i-i-ived!”
Seth cowered and turned the other way. “Oh, boy.”
Trent leaned away sideways while staring straight ahead. “Weight? Why, you’re as light as a feather. I barely felt it.”
Braden laughed. “First time I ever saw a feather crush someone, man.”
Ida cried louder. “See? I killed you!”
Trent seethed at Braden, who shrugged. He nudged Victoria and mouthed the word, “Help.”
Victoria bared her teeth and mouthed the words, “Screw you.”
Seth grinned. Not as much of a ladies’ man as you thought, huh pal?
Trent leaned in and raised an awkward hand to touch Ida’s back, but stopped short. Instead, he tapped her shoulder a couple of times with a smirk before pulling back. “I know you’d never intend to kill me. I know how much I mean to you.”
Ida smiled as she wiped away the tears, quickly gaining her composure.
Seth sneered. “That’s right. He cares a lot about you, Ida.”
Braden, in typical Braden form, replied, “You didn’t intend to kill him, man, but it happened. It’s what led to Old Seth’s and my death, too.”
Ida let out a wail. This time Victoria put her arm around her and began to shush her.
Westlake sat back in his chair patiently buffing his fingernails as if he had seen this show before. He glanced at Seth.
Seth stood up. “Hold it! Just hold on a minute. Nobody purposefully killed anybody else.” He glared at Trent. Except you, you bastard. Trent grinned. “We all suffered and it’s nobody’s fault. Lester killed himself. And Vic, well, she decided to run a marathon through a corn maze. I had my body blown in half and surely burned beyond recognition, but you don’t hear me complaining. Why? Because I didn’t feel a thing. Now, we’ll all take equal blame for the first take at Gettysburg. It’s all behind us now. Deal?”
Everyone nodded, but not Victoria.
Seth turned to Westlake. “Good enough?”
Westlake nodded.
Victoria let go of Ida and glared at Seth. “What do you mean marathon through a corn maze? Did you not see all the bites on my body?”
Seth raised a finger and opened his mouth to talk, but Vic’s angry face forced him to put it down and close it. He nodded.
“Good, because it’s the last time you’ll see anything on my body.”
Trent giggled. “Whoo! You done messed up, boy!”
Seth felt an ominous percolation rising in his lower intestine. A loud gurgle sounded. Not again!
Vic continued, “You put us out there on the front lines while you played in your treehouse. You weren’t in the middle of it all like the rest of us. I’d like to see how you’d react to thousands of ants trying to colonize your body.”
Ida sniffed loudly and said, “She’s right, Seth. All you did was watch.”
“You could have been more helpful, sir.” Lester nodded at the ladies and blushed when they nodded back.
Seth gritted his teeth and held his stomach. “Alright, if that’s the way you want it. How was I to know you would bring your video games, Lester?”
Lester stared downward. “That won’t happen again, sir.”
“I know it won’t happen again because I’m going to check every bag before we go next time.” He pointed at Trent. “And you. You’re going to strip down and show proof you aren’t wearing anything underneath.”
Trent threw his arms in the air and said, “You got me.” He stood up and unbuttoned his jeans. “How did you spot my French maid uniform underneath these tight jeans?” He started to unzip.
Seth said, “Cut it out, moron.”
Trent zipped up and buttoned his jeans before sitting down.
“And another thing. You’re going to do better recon so you don’t put any of us on anthills or in front of cannon fire.”
He saluted. “Aye aye, captain.”
Seth ignored him. “Ida.”
Ida looked up sheepishly with dry tear trails across her cheeks.
“Uh, try to keep your ropes organized and tied proper if you can.”
Ida nodded.
He turned to Braden. “In the future, no feeding of any animals. No going out of your way to feed any animals. Including yourself.”
“Old Seth was hungry, man, and so was I.”
“I mean it. I depend on all of you. Does anything any of you did reek of dependability?”
They all stood silent as they each stared at one another. Each one shook his or her head, even Vic.
Lester said, “There’s no point in reliving the past.”
Westlake grinned at the irony of the statement. “Well, if it gives us a good film, there is.”
Seth pressed his fist into his stomach to stifle the bubbling.
Westlake rose from his chair and handed Seth a thick folder. “I want you all to be ready by Saturday morning. You’ve done the prep work once already. Let’s get it right this time.” He went through the door to meet Wilkerson, who stood waiting outside.
“Great.” Seth flashed the folder to the others. Its label read, “Sergeant York – Take Two”.