After the horses had drunk their fill, Sara and Hollis took a moment to let the animals wander. The two of them sat on a rocky outcrop that jutted over the edge of the water. The vegetation on the banks was thick—willows, pecans, oaks, a scrub of mesquites and prickly pears. Evening insects were hatching from the water in ascending motes of light. A hundred yards upstream, the river paused in a wide, deep pool.
“It’s so peaceful out here,” Sara said.
Hollis nodded, his face full of contentment.
“I think I could get used to this.”
She was thinking of a certain place in the past. It was many years ago, when she and Hollis and all the others had traveled east with Amy to Colorado. Theo and Maus were gone by this time, left behind at the farmstead so Maus could have her baby. They’d crossed the La Sal Range and descended to a wide valley of tall grass and blue skies and stopped to rest. In the distance, snowcapped, the peaks of the Rockies loomed, though the air was still mild. Sitting in the shade of a maple tree, Sara had experienced a feeling she’d never really had before—a sense of the world’s beauty. Because it really was beautiful. The trees, the light, the way the grass moved in the breeze, the mountains’ glinting faces of ice: how had she failed to notice these things before? And if she had, why had they seemed different, more ordinary, less charged with life? She had fallen in love with Hollis, and she understood, sitting under the maple tree with her friends around her—Michael had, in fact, fallen asleep, hugging his shotgun over his chest like a child’s stuffed animal—that Hollis was the reason. It was love, and only love, that opened your eyes.
“We better go,” Hollis said. “It’ll be dark soon.”
They gathered the horses and rode on.
—
General Gunnar Apgar, standing at the top of the wall, watched the shadows stretching over the valley.
He glanced at his watch: 2015 hours. Sunset was minutes away. The last transports bringing workers in from the fields were churning up the hill. All of his men had taken up positions along the top of the wall. They had new guns and fresh ammunition, but their numbers were small—far too few to watch every inch of a six-mile perimeter, let alone defend it.
Apgar wasn’t a religious man. Many years had passed since a prayer had found his lips. Though it made him feel a little foolish, he decided to say one now. God, he thought, if you’re listening, sorry about the language, but if it’s not too much trouble, please let this all be bullshit.
Footsteps banged down the catwalk toward him.
“What is it, Corporal?”
The soldier’s name was Ratcliffe—a radio operator. He was badly winded from his run up the stairs. He bent at the waist and put his hands on his knees, taking in great gulps of air between words. “General, sir, we got the message out like you said.”
“How about Luckenbach?”
Ratcliffe nodded quickly, still looking at the ground. “Yeah, they’re sending a squad.” He paused and coughed. “But that’s the thing. They were the only ones who answered.”
“Catch your breath, Corporal.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Now tell me what you’re talking about.”
The soldier drew himself erect. “It’s just like I said. Hunt, Comfort, Boerne, Rosenberg—we’re not getting anything back. No acknowledgment, nothing. Every station except Luckenbach is off-line.”
The last bus was passing through the gate. Below, in the staging area, workers were filing off. Some were talking, telling jokes and laughing; others separated themselves quickly from the group and marched away, headed home for the night.
“Thanks for passing that along, Corporal.”
Apgar watched him totter away before turning to look over the valley again. A curtain of darkness was sweeping over the fields. Well, he thought, I guess that’s that. It would have been nice if it could have lasted longer. He descended the stairs and walked to the base of the gate. Two soldiers were waiting with a civilian, a man of about forty, dressed in stained coveralls and holding a wrench the size of a sledgehammer.
The man spat a wad of something onto the ground. “Gate should be working fine now, General. I got everything well greased, too. The thing will be quiet as a cat.”
Apgar looked at one of the soldiers. “Are all the transports in?”
“As far as we know.”
He tipped his face to the sky; the first stars had appeared, winking from the darkness.
“Okay, gentlemen,” he said. “Let’s lock it up.”
—