PLUS
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KINGSTON WAS A city of the dead. Emmett and Diana looked down on the gray-black wasteland. There was only one house still standing, and it appeared abandoned. Broken chimneys stuck up from still-blackened timbers in orderly rows.
Here and there were the shells of stone houses, or sometimes just a still-standing wall or two. Near the center of the desolation was a taller pile of rubble with a shattered vee of unburnt wood beside it, across what would have been the street. A church, Emmett guessed. Another ruin. A courthouse? They saw no people in the ruins. The bluff the town had been built on sloped down across wetland to the Hudson River, a couple of miles away.
"I wonder," Diana said quietly, "if New Kent looks like this now."
Shannon didn't answer. His mind was busy peopling the landscape. Here there would have been a marketplace. There would have been Dutch farmers and their wives and children moving goods toward it. Standing outside taverns, talking to townsfolk, bargaining with merchants, gossiping, running across the village green. But now, nothing.
Approaching Kingston, they'd passed abandoned huts where desperate people must have taken hasty shelter. Shannon wondered where those people were now. Even the streams were dead, still ash-choked. A bird warbled from a tree, and both of them started. Emmett clucked and Horse began moving again. The creak of the cartwheels was unbearably loud in the stillness all around them.
"I wonder how long it'll take them to rebuild?" Diana said. Emmett thought maybe it would never happen. As a boy he'd heard a sailor claim he'd seen great stone cities, buried in the jungles of Mexico and again in Africa near the island of Madecass. From the tale, they were desolate. Abandoned. He had listened to a church lecturer returned from the Holy Land, who said the great cities of the Bible were now nothing but huts and Arabs. He himself had seen crumbling stockade villages once used by the Iroquois. Maybe Kingston would just return to the forest.
He shivered, thinking of Cherry Valley, and beyond it the thousands of miles of mountains and wilderness, stretching to the Western Ocean. It drew him—and scared him. Then he wondered how Diana would find Cherry Valley. He knew she saw it as a smaller version of New Kent. But New Kent was civilization itself compared to Emmett's home. What would she think on her first Market Day, when she realized that half of the marketgoers were wild forest Indians? Or when she saw a farmer plowing a field, his musket propped against the rail fence not far distant? Or parents worried when children were out of earshot or sight? That, he thought, will have to take care of itself. First we have to catch the rabbit.
He jumped down and led Horse through the least-blocked street. Here was a lump of melted iron. A stove, Emmett realized, blown out of a house when the building exploded. Here would have been someone's garden. A low bush had managed to produce a single flower. Emmett picked it and gave it to Diana, bowing low. She managed a smile. Farther on, Emmett heard mews, and saw movement in a ruin as three mottled kittens scurried into hiding. Emmett wondered what their mother had lived on during the winter.
There were bits of a recruiting poster on a tottering wall. Emmett could make out that it was calling for Intrepid Heroes. Surely, he thought. Come and join the Revolution. Burn a Loyalist out because the British burnt you. Bayonet a lobsterback prisoner because a friend was found slashed to death. Shoot a teamster, he reminded himself, because you had to live on spoiled rations. Be a hero, lads. It's a right honorable trade.
"What are you thinking?" Diana asked.
Emmett shook himself back to Kingston. "I was just musing," he said. "If I should have me another son, and he takes his first step with his left leg like soldiers do when they march ofT, I'll break it in six places." A rat stared insolently at them, not moving as the cart passed.
Emmett pushed well away from the road when it was time to make camp. They ate a cold meal, not willing to chance a fire. Emmett rubbed Horse down, fed and watered him, then replaced the harness. He would only have to hook up the traces and they could be moving instantly. He felt slightly sorry for the beast—but better having to worry about it being galled in a few days than wasting time if raiders came on them. The road now led almost due north, following the west bank of the Hudson toward Albany. These were disputed lands. Neutral Ground. But there were no neutrals.
Loyalists burnt Rebels and the compliment was returned. Raiders were out on the land. Some called themselves cow boys, some skinners, some rangers, some scouts. For the most part their loyalties lay, in fact, with their own pockets and private feuds. Anyone who lived in the stretch between the American positions near Albany and the British-held New York area and dreamed of staying neutral would have been plundered by both sides and eventually burnt out. Or else become a wolf in his own right. Not a wolf, Emmett corrected himself. There was nothing wrong with wolves. Jackal, from what he'd read, made a better description.
From here on they must travel even more warily. Looking to be a harmless farmer and his young wife, with nothing to steal, might help. But not very much—there were men, and women, on these roads who would murder just for the sensation. The problem was telling Diana this. So far their journey was a romance any young woman of quality might read behind her prayer book. With, Emmett reminded himself, certain carnal exceptions. Now the chronicle could too easily be written by Dr. Swift or Mister Defoe.
While he considered, Diana asked, without preamble: "Would you show me how to fire your pistol?" Emmett hesitated. "The merchants who came to New Kent were always telling us of the hazards of their travels," she said. "I thought it was just to explain their terrible pricing.
"I do not want," she said carefully, "for us to meet anyone who'll intend harm, and for me to sit on this cart seat with nothing to do but scream like Miss Muffett."
There was no need for Shannon to prepare his speech. They made love again that night not from lust or romance, but to reaffirm being among the living.
The next morning he showed her how to load and aim the pistol. He planned to allow her two shots. The noise wouldn't travel far—and they would be gone before anyone could investigate. He chose a wide tree for a target, and stationed Diana ten yards from it. Emmett felt that, with care, he himself would be able to hit that tree. At least Diana would be able to place her shots in the vicinity. Diana put both pistol balls in the center of the tree. Emmett was not that surprised—it had been his discovery, years earlier, that women, if they set their minds to it, could do most things better than a man.
* * * *
They heard the yelping of dogs from the brush. Emmett checked his rifle and reined in the horse. A lean hound burst out, chased by seven more. They went across the road into the brush on the other side. The dogs were all of a breed. Emmett guessed they would have been a hunting pack, belonging to some rich fox hunter. Probably a Loyalist, and certainly no longer resident in the countryside, or possibly on this Earth. Now his dogs hunted on their own. The lead dog had been carrying something in its jaws. Something brown. Meat? Shannon was glad he had not been able to tell what kind of meat it was.
* * * *
Diana saw it first. Deep in the trees, twenty-five yards from the road, was a rude hut. Shannon swore to himself—he was becoming careless. Two children, naked except for burlap sacking worn like nightgowns, stared at them. Diana waved—and the children fled just as the kittens had in ruined Kingston.
"Squatters' kids?" she said.
"Maybe," Emmett said. "Or maybe farmers' lads. Or lasses. I couldn't tell."
"I wonder," Diana began, and stopped. She was wondering where the mother or father was. She didn't want to think on that.
* * * *
They saw other people trying to live in these outlaw lands. Raggedy men and women who ran for cover when they saw or heard the cart. Sometimes it was Emmett and Diana who fled. Twice they pulled off the road, hearing the thunder of horses. Well-mounted men rode past, with ready weapons and searching eyes. Shannon had no intention of finding out which side they were on.
Once they passed the gutted ruins of a mansion. Three brick walls reached upward, without floors or roof. The hedges and roses of a formal garden were overgrown with rank weeds. Nothing remained of barns or outbuildings.
"I shall be damned," Emmett thought aloud, "why that saddens me. Those who lived there would have been Tory-minded bas—pardon, people, who want to run this world as if God granted them the deed, who are better gone from this country. But still ..."
"That wouldn't have upset Nate Hatch," Diana said. "When he was drinking, I'd heard him mutter that the world would be better if all those original proprietors of New Kent would suddenly be bankrupt or pox'd. But when he was sober, he could not do them enough favors. When we're rich, we'll have to be very careful that we don't start sounding like that bastard."
Emmett recovered and found a smile. "With me, lass, it's most unlikely that'll be a worry."
"We shall see," she said confidently. "We shall see."
* * * *
The day would have been better suited for midsummer instead of spring. There was no breeze from the nearby Hudson. It had been hot at dawn. By midday it was boiling. Ahead, the road curved out of sight. Emmett followed habit. The cart was pulled up, and Emmett went forward, to the curve. He'd tried to convince Diana that she should stay with the cart—but had failed.
About seventy-five yards around the curve was a tiny village. One stone house—roofless—and five still-upright chimneys, two of them at either end of what had been a single structure. Perhaps a tavern. Another destroyed village. But it took Emmett a moment to realize what was different about this village. It had not been burnt. It had been taken apart. As far as he could see, there was not a scrap of wood left. Houses, fences, sheds, had been taken apart by someone.
By an army, Emmett realized. Inhabitants gone—or chased off—and then whichever side had camped here had stripped the village for cooking and heating fires. When the wood was gone—or when orders came—they would have marched on. Emmett, who had stripped his share of rail fences, felt a touch of guilt.
But all this was so much pointless moralizing, because the village was not deserted. Four saddled horses were tied outside the ruins of the stone house, and three remounts stood behind them. Their riders weren't in sight. Emmett was wishing he had an officer's spyglass when a man stepped out of the ruins. Shannon needed no telescope. At this distance he could easily see the man's long black hair, red scarf, silver spurs on booted feet, and the big, green-feathered slouch hat.
Emmett was sliding backward, pulling Diana with him, then running back to the cart. Silently he turned the animal around and they went back the way they'd come. They took the first sidetrack from the road. Shannon pulled the cart up and cut a sheaf of brush. With it he swept the turnoff and up the track itself.
He could do nothing about the marks on the road, except hope McShane was moving north, with no interest in backtracking. Then he led Horse on, farther up the track, which led to yet another burnt-out farmhouse. Below it was a draw and the destroyed springhouse. They would be well-hidden.
He could do nothing about the marks on the road, except hope McShane was moving north, with no interest in backtracking. Then he led Horse on, farther up the track, which led to yet another burnt-out farmhouse. Below it was a draw and the destroyed springhouse. They would be well-hidden.
Unhitching Horse, he suddenly realized that at no time had Diana protested, asked for an explanation, or panicked. But that wasn't what amazed him. The surprise was—that was exactly how he expected her to behave. Now how could he know that?
NEXT: A Wilderness Wedding
What if the Cold War never ended -- but continued for a thousand years? Best-selling authors Allan Cole (an American) and Nick Perumov (a Russian) spin a mesmerizing "what if?" tale set a thousand years in the future, as an American and a Russian super-soldier -- together with a beautiful American detective working for the United Worlds Police -- must combine forces to defeat a secret cabal ... and prevent a galactic disaster! This is the first - and only - collaboration between American and Russian novelists. Narrated by John Hough. Click the title links below for the trade paperback and kindle editions. (Also available at iTunes.)
*****
S.O.S. ALLAN'S NEW NOVEL
Between February and May of 1942, German U-boats operated with impunity off the Florida coast, sinking scores of freighters from Cape Canaveral to Key West and killing nearly five thousand people. Residents were horrified witnesses of the attacks—the night skies were aflame and in the morning the beaches were covered with oil and tar, ship parts and charred corpses. The Germans even landed teams of saboteurs charged with disrupting war efforts in the factories of the North. This novel is based on those events. For my own purposes, I set the tale in the fictitious town of Juno Beach on the banks of the equally fictitious Seminole River—all in the very real Palm Beach County, a veritable wilderness in those long ago days. Among the witnesses were my grandfather and grandmother, who operated an orchard and ranch in the area.
*****
A DAUGHTER OF LIBERTY
The year is 1778 and the Revolutionary War has young America trapped in the crossfire of hatred and fear. Diana, an indentured servant, escapes her abusive master with the help of Emmett Shannon, a deserter from the desperate army at Valley Forge. They fall in love and marry, but their happiness is shattered and Diana Shannon must learn to survive on her own. From that moment on she will become a true woman of her times, blazing a path from lawless lands in the grips of the Revolution, to plague-stricken Philadelphia, to the burning of Washington in the War Of 1812.
*****
TWO NEW AUDIOBOOKS ONLY $4.95!
Tales Sometimes Tall, but always true, of Allan Cole's years in Hollywood with his late partner, Chris Bunch. How a naked lady almost became our first agent. How we survived La-La Land with only the loss of half our brain cells. How Bunch & Cole became the ultimate Fix-It
Boys. How an alleged Mafia Don was very, very good to us. The guy who cornered the market on movie rocks. Andy Warhol's Fire Extinguisher. The Real Stars Of Hollywood. Why they don't make million dollar movies. See The Seven Pi$$ing Dwarfs. Learn: how to kill a "difficult" actor… And much, much more.
THE TIMURA TRILOGY: When The Gods Slept, Wolves Of The Gods and The Gods Awaken. This best selling fantasy series now available as trade paperbacks, e-books (in all varieties) and as audiobooks. Visit The Timura Trilogy page for links to all the editions.
NEWLY REVISED KINDLE EDITIONS OF THE TIMURA TRILOGY NOW AVAILABLE. (1) When The Gods Slept;(2) Wolves Of The Gods; (3) The Gods Awaken.
*****
A NATION AT WAR WITH ITSELF: In Book Three Of The Shannon Trilogy, young Patrick Shannon is the heir-apparent to the Shannon fortune, but murder and betrayal at a family gathering send him fleeing into the American frontier, with only the last words of a wise old woman to arm him against what would come. And when the outbreak of the Civil War comes he finds himself fighting on the opposite side of those he loves the most. In The Wars Of The Shannons we see the conflict, both on the battlefield and the homefront, through the eyes of Patrick and the members of his extended Irish-American family as they struggle to survive the conflict that ripped the new nation apart, and yet, offered a dim beacon of hope.
*****
NEW: THE AUDIOBOOK VERSION OF
THE HATE PARALLAX
What if the Cold War never ended -- but continued for a thousand years? Best-selling authors Allan Cole (an American) and Nick Perumov (a Russian) spin a mesmerizing "what if?" tale set a thousand years in the future, as an American and a Russian super-soldier -- together with a beautiful American detective working for the United Worlds Police -- must combine forces to defeat a secret cabal ... and prevent a galactic disaster! This is the first - and only - collaboration between American and Russian novelists. Narrated by John Hough. Click the title links below for the trade paperback and kindle editions. (Also available at iTunes.)
*****
THE SPYMASTER'S DAUGHTER:
A novel by Allan and his daughter, Susan
After laboring as a Doctors Without Borders physician in the teaming refugee camps and minefields of South Asia, Dr. Ann Donovan thought she'd seen Hell as close up as you can get. And as a fifth generation CIA brat, she thought she knew all there was to know about corruption and betrayal. But then her father - a legendary spymaster - shows up, with a ten-year-old boy in tow. A brother she never knew existed. Then in a few violent hours, her whole world is shattered, her father killed and she and her kid brother are one the run with hell hounds on their heels. They finally corner her in a clinic in Hawaii and then all the lies and treachery are revealed on one terrible, bloody storm- ravaged night.
BASED ON THE CLASSIC STEN SERIES by Allan Cole & Chris Bunch: Fresh from their mission to pacify the Wolf Worlds, Sten and his Mantis Team encounter a mysterious ship that has been lost among the stars for thousands of years. At first, everyone aboard appears to be long dead. Then a strange Being beckons, pleading for help. More disturbing: the presence of AM2, a strategically vital fuel tightly controlled by their boss - The Eternal Emperor. They are ordered to retrieve the remaining AM2 "at all costs." But once Sten and his heavy worlder sidekick, Alex Kilgour, board the ship they must dare an out of control defense system that attacks without warning as they move through dark warrens filled with unimaginable horrors. When they reach their goal they find that in the midst of all that death are the "seeds" of a lost civilization.
*****
TALES OF THE BLUE MEANIE
NOW AN AUDIOBOOK!
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Venice Boardwalk Circa 1969
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In the depths of the Sixties and The Days Of Rage, a young newsman, accompanied by his pregnant wife and orphaned teenage brother, creates a Paradise of sorts in a sprawling Venice Beach community of apartments, populated by students, artists, budding scientists and engineers lifeguards, poets, bikers with a few junkies thrown in for good measure. The inhabitants come to call the place “Pepperland,” after the Beatles movie, “Yellow Submarine.” Threatening this paradise is "The Blue Meanie," a crazy giant of a man so frightening that he eventually even scares himself.
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