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Chapter 23  Attack

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“Should we keep going or head back to the tower and make a run for it?” asked Al, after they had been sitting quietly for a few minutes.

Pam quailed. Al sensed a shiver pass through her.

“Al, I couldn’t face those creatures again. They weren’t animal—and they weren’t human. They seemed so—unnatural. I can’t go back—especially not at night.”

“Then we should go on?” asked Al. “What if they follow us and come upon us in the dark?”

Even in the waning light, Al could see the color drain from her face. Pam moved to get up, but her legs were obviously too stiff. Al also felt weary—from the tension of their escape and the emotional trauma of Dave’s death.

Finally he pulled himself up and helped Pam to her feet. At the back of the ledge was a crevice, a chimney that extended out of sight. It would be a difficult climb, but the lower stages, at least, were manageable. However, even now the shadow was so deep in the cleft that they could not see the handholds.

In the end, they spent the night huddled on the ledge under a shallow overhang that provided them with some protection from the wind. There were no stars, and the night air filled with the oppressive heaviness of an impending thunderstorm. The lightning flashes and loud crashes of thunder were terrifying on the exposed mountainside. In the momentary brilliance of the lightning flashes, they thought they saw ape¬men creeping toward them in the flickering shadows on the rock face. They waited in fear. The ape¬men never came.

Al prayed a silent prayer that they would both remain calm. He told Pam every silly joke he could remember. Many of them were old chestnuts, and Pam must have thought him a fool for trying them out on her at a time like this, but the jokes had their desired effect. Pam actually started to giggle softly, and time passed more quickly as they forgot the shadows and the danger. Eventually, through sheer exhaustion, they fell into a restless sleep.

Dawn found them so cramped and cold they could hardly move. Stretching gingerly, the pain at first was excruciating, but soon they were able to have a few mouthfuls of water and a bit of cold breakfast. Both were anxious to leave their precarious perch, so Pam, silently acknowledged as the better climber, led the way up the broken rock face of the chimney.

An hour later they were standing on a broad ledge with the city far below. They had climbed well beyond the western wall of the city and were now searching for a way down. The ledge, like a sword slash in the side of the mountain, ran down at a forty-five degree angle in the direction they wanted to go but carried them around a mountain spur that put them completely out of sight of the city.

The going became easier since the mountainside was not as steep here, but they had to go slowly since the ledge ended in a steep field of boulders and one false step could result in a fall.

By early afternoon they were finally off the mountain, about a mile west of the city. Tired as they were, they made all possible haste back to Fort Linderhof.

At about suppertime, they approached their camp, exhausted. A guard on alert waved and then ran back to the hollow. Soon Floyd and several others came to meet them across the rope bridge.

“Where’s Dave?” asked Floyd.

Al hung his head and wiped his eyes. “Dead!” he said wearily.

Floyd was visibly shocked at the news and took a moment to recover his composure. “What happened?” asked Floyd.

“It’s a long story, and we’d better get across the bridge,” said Al.

A few minutes later, Pam and Al were hungrily helping themselves to the food set before them and drinking Halcyon tea. Almost everyone had gathered around. Floyd even had to chase the lookout back to his post by the rope bridge.

Pam and Al took turns explaining their journey in detail. There was a perceptible intake of breath as Al described Dave’s final act of courage, which had obviously allowed his and Pam’s escape. He dismissed the return journey with a few words and then fell silent.

Floyd’s eyes smoldered.

“The other party encountered the same type of ape¬men you did,” Floyd said. “They were trapped for a while. Fortunately it happened on the open road and they were able to take up a safe position, beat off the ape¬men, and disengage without taking any casualties. What are they, do you think, these ‘ape¬men’?”

Pam answered. “They seem to have some primitive means of communication, and they coordinate their attacks. I guess they have some intelligence, but they’re impervious to pain and they don’t really get angry. It’s not that they are devoid of emotion; it’s as if the emotion they exhibit is a parody or a sham. It’s almost as if they were zombies.”

“They have another curious behavior,” added Al. “They always carry their dead away. After several had fallen off the ledge, we saw others come back to the bottom of the cliff and carry off the bodies.”

“Hmm,” said Floyd, “do you think they might attack us here?”

“They might,” said Al. “They didn’t follow us, but we had out-climbed them. We’re more exposed here, and it’s possible they may make an attempt. This is a defensible position, but if they come in sufficient numbers to surround us, we could be in a desperate situation.”

Floyd addressed the group. “We’ll double the watch. I want all the sailboats filled with provisions. I want our ropes fastened and ready to go, in case we have to make our escape. I’m going to make up our new watch schedules. Pam, you and Al get some sleep.”

Al walked slowly back to their tent. The images of Dave’s last stand came back to him and filled him with remorse. It should have been him. He was the leader. He should have stayed back and fought the ape-men!

Al took his sleeping bag out of the tent and found a spot under a small pine tree. He used his raincoat to make an improvised lean-to and placed his belongings next to his sleeping bag. As he turned around, Pam was standing by the tent watching him. It looked as if she were going to say something but changed her mind. She lifted the tent flap, turned and wished him a good night, and disappeared into the tent.

__________

It was a clear night. Dark shadows shambled over the rocks toward Fort Linderhof. The first shadow reached the rope bridge and began to cross.

A voice called out, “Who goes there?”

In silence the shadow continued to cross the bridge. Floyd’s axe flashed in the moonlight, and the main rope parted. The ape¬man held onto one of the hand ropes. Two more axe strokes and the hand ropes parted, sending the ape¬man into the depths. A dull thud sounded as his body landed on the rocks far below.

Other ape¬men approached the chasm carrying long, roughly made ladders. Speeding up as they neared the edge, they lowered the front ends of the ladders to the ground, lofting them vertically with the help of poles and letting them fall across the yawning gorge. Five ladders thudded, bridging the gap, and the ape¬men began to lumber across. Occasionally, one would overbalance and fall into the depths; others fell as they took hits from crossbow bolts or rifle shots. Still they advanced in silent ferocity. The bullets quickly spent, the few crossbowmen would not be able to hold off the attack for long.

Floyd brought up a crew of six men. Using ropes and pry poles, they knocked one ladder after another to the bottom of the chasm. When the last ladder had fallen, the remaining ape¬men retreated as silently as they had come. “We’re almost out of arrows,” said Floyd in a loud voice. “If they launch another attack, we’ll be fighting hand-to-hand, and they’ll overwhelm us. We must get out of here now.”

Having ordered their retreat, he had the group pack up their remaining things and begin the slow process of going down the rope ladder to the boats. Most of the people were already down when the ape¬men reappeared, supplied with fresh ladders. Again, as before, they propelled the ladders over the chasm and began climbing onto them almost before they hit the ground. Al, Floyd, and three others tried to knock the ladders off, taking aim with their crossbows at any ape¬men that came across. When the last bolt had been shot and the ape¬men had crossed at the far end of the mesa, Al and the others raced back across the mesa toward the riverside precipice and jumped into the void.

Al hit the river feet first, his crossbow jarring his shoulder. Time slowed to a crawl as he sank into the water’s inky blackness. Seeing the faint shimmer of air bubbles rising, he kicked vigorously to follow them. On the surface, Al saw the ghostly shadow of a boat approaching. Arms dragged him aboard, and then the boat paddled swiftly and silently into the predawn twilight.