“Just saying,” muttered Grey.
They sipped their coffee.
“How do you think they’ll come at us?” asked Looks Away.
“He’ll have to bring his main forces across the bridge. But he has that airship, and those flying reptiles and maybe more of those worms, so he could come at us from a lot of different directions.” Grey sucked a tooth. “I’m betting it’ll be the bridge, though.”
“Betting or hoping?”
Grey shrugged.
Inside the house they heard a sound that made them both turn. It was a lovely voice lifted in song. Jenny Pearl, singing a sad old ballad.
“‘She Moved through the Fair,’” murmured the Sioux.
“Don’t know it.”
“It’s about a man whose love is murdered before their wedding, then comes to him as a ghost on what would have been their wedding night. It’s as morose a tune as any I’ve heard. You’re a sourpuss this morning, so it should suit you.”
Grey sipped the coffee and didn’t comment. Last night had been so strange. Jenny had been so passionate, so intense, but after their brief exchange of words she hadn’t spoken at all. Not even in the heat of climax, and not at all this morning. Now she sang tragic songs as the drums of war rumbled behind storm clouds.
“Hello the house!” called a voice and they turned to see Doctor Saint come hurrying up the side street. He wore another tweed suit — this one charcoal, perhaps in keeping with the mood of the day — and a top hat that looked freshly waxed and polished. Beneath his coat he had a gun belt strapped to his thick waist and the weapon in the holster was another of his odd copper-and-silver handguns, though this was a design Grey hadn’t seen the night before. Behind him was a pair of strong young lads pushing a wooden cart with a canvas tarp tied down over its bulging contents. Another pair of boys pushed a second cart, equally laden. Doctor Saint directed them to position the carts in front of the porch steps.
Grey looked past the scientist to see that most of the townsfolk were heading their way. They were grim-faced and stern, though there was as much fear in their eyes as determination. Scared as they were, they wanted to make a fight of it. This was their town and Deray had already hurt them badly. Each of them carried a weapon of some kind — firearms and axes and a variety of farm tools.
Not enough, thought Grey. It’s not going to be nearly enough.
Brother Joe was with them, his Bible clutched to his chest, eyes filled with anticipated pain. Grey set his cup on the rail and extended his hand as Saint joined him on the porch. The inventor nodded at the Lazarus pistol on Grey’s hip.
“Are you sure you’re comfortable using that, son?” he asked.
Grey shrugged. “Guess we’ll find out.”
“Oh dear me, yes,” agreed Looks Away, “we will certainly find that out. Deray is not coming for tea and scones.”
“Fine day for it, though,” said the scientist with unexpected cheerfulness. A cold, damp wind was blowing through the town, sweeping up dried leaves and pieces of old newspaper.
“Is it?” asked Looks Away.
“It is indeed,” said Saint. He moistened a finger and held it up, then nodded to himself. “The storm is in the east but the wind is coming in from the ocean. That’s good, my boys, that’s very good.”
“In what way, exactly?” asked Grey.
“I’m delighted that you asked.” The scientist chuckled as if this was all great fun. He turned and jogged back to the steps, crossed to one of the two carts and began untying the ropes that held the tarp in place. Grey leaned close to Looks Away.
“Does he actually have a plan, or is he just crazy as a barn owl?”
The Sioux frowned. “I’ll give you even odds either way.”
Saint called out to them as he held the corner of the tarp in one small, brown hand. When he spoke, he pitched his voice loud enough for the crowd to hear.
“You all know what’s coming,” he said. “You’ve been told about Aleksander Deray and his machines. You’ve seen the walking dead. You know that we are facing an army of considerable size and power.”
The crowd stared at him in silent anticipation. The fear was now etched far more heavily on their faces than a moment ago.
Grey murmured, “Jesus. Some opener to a rousing call to arms.”
Looks Away said, “I suppose it’s better than ‘we who are about to die salute you.’”
“Not much.”
The scientist did not hear this quiet exchange. Still smiling, he pointed to the sky above them all. “This is the modern age. We are already taking the first steps out of the darkness of the nineteenth century and into the world of wonder that is the twentieth.” He paused for effect, though Grey was certain that no one in the crowd was enthused by the march of scientific progress. “Thousands of years ago wars were fought hand to hand. Then the sword was invented, and those who wielded them triumphed over those who used clubs or fists. Then came the bow and arrow, then the crossbow, the cannon, the rifle. With each advancement in the science of warfare we see that the wise, the evolved triumph over the brutish. Not even the strongest and most skilled swordsman in the world can stand against a bullet, even if that bullet is fired from a gun in the hands of a weak man, a woman, or even a child.”
The crowd was listening now, and their eyes flicked now and again to whatever was under the tarps. Even Grey found himself interested.
“Aleksander Deray has his weapons,” continued Saint, “and I will grant you that they are formidable. In any ordinary battle he would sweep through a town like ours with impunity, with arrogance, and with certain knowledge of his superiority.”
“Wait for it,” said Looks Away, leaning forward over the rail, eyes alight.
“But what he does not know, my friends,” said Saint, “is that Paradise Falls is not his for the taking. We are not debris to be swept aside. We are not inconveniences to be disposed of. Oh no, that is not the case. I submit to you that we are not to be dismissed so readily. When Deray’s minions bring their war to us, it is war they will find. We will not fall. I tell you now that when the storm breaks upon us, Deray will find that Paradise rises!”
With that he whipped back the tarp to reveal a cargo of hundreds of brightly colored rubber balloons. Each was filled with gas, and as the tarp fell away, they stirred and lifted and rose quickly into the air. Reds and blues, greens and yellows, oranges and purples and a few that were as white as snow. They drifted upward and were caught by the freshening breeze, then scattered and blown high above the town.
The crowd gasped at first, and here and there were small cheers. But these faded as the people understood what they were seeing. The big reveal, the scientist’s secret weapon, were mere balloons.
One by one the looks of wonder changed to confusion and then to doubt. Finally they lowered their heads and glared at the scientist.
“That’s it?” cried Mrs. O’Malley. “That’s our secret weapon? Land’s sakes, Doctor Saint, you’re as mad as the moon. I do believe you’ve killed us all.”
The crowd became angry and hard words filled the air.
“Oh boy,” said Grey, and when he glanced at his friend he saw only confusion and embarrassment on the Sioux’s face.
“No! No, wait,” yelled Saint, holding his hands up, “you don’t understand…”
“We’re all gonna die,” said one of the farmers, throwing down his pitch fork. “Lord a’mighty we’re gonna die.”
The crowd surged around Saint, yelling at him, cursing him to hell, calling him names. Mothers pulled their children to them and wept openly. And all the time the doctor tried to calm them, tried to explain.
“I’d better do something,” said Looks Away as he leaped from the porch and waded through the crowd. He grabbed Saint by the shoulder and half pulled, half carried him through the press and pushed him roughly up onto the porch. Some of the people swung at the scientist, needing to hit something in order to vent their frustration.