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Just as the light grew stronger, a drizzle began. They hastily built a campfire in the tower, and everyone took turns warming up their breakfast. After breakfast, they broke camp as quickly as they could and began the trek along the wall. Apparently, when McTavish had contacted headquarters at City Point, the decision had been made to move as quickly as possible to the citadel and not wait for the reinforcements. The drizzle probably had something to do with this change of plans.
The Twenty-fifth Platoon was in the rear and had been given the task of carrying as much firewood as they could manage. When they reached the last tower by the mountainside, the First Platoon scouted the citadel while the Second guarded the road from the last tower to the citadel gates. Within ten minutes McTavish reappeared and waved them all in.
When they had gathered just inside the citadel gates, McTavish began issuing orders. He had to shout to be heard over the steady rain. The First and Second platoons were to make a thorough search of every building. The Third Platoon was divided in half. One half was ordered to guard the rubble heap blocking the tunnel, and the other half was asked to guard the citadel gate and see if they could close it and fortify it. Finally, Floyd’s platoon was told to find a way to rig climbing ropes up the mountain face to provide a backdoor escape route out of the citadel in case they were trapped.
As the group dispersed, Floyd asked Al and Pam to oversee the escape construction. Doing so would be awkward; they had been avoiding each other since their walk at City Point. Al tried to appear nonchalant, as if nothing were wrong.
“What do you think, Pam?” he asked.
Pam put her hands on her hips and thought for a moment.
“We know where the ledge is, but we’re not sure where we’ll be trapped. Why not set up two escape routes, one from the citadel wall and one from the rubble heap?”
“That’s good!” said Al. “We should also find a position that we could man to cover our retreat, since we have more than 100 people to get up the mountainside.”
They placed pitons and ropes from the top of the rubble heap to the ledge they had used during their previous escape. They also placed ropes and pitons from the top of the citadel wall up the mountainside as a second access point for an escape. They then climbed to a higher ledge, which backed into a shallow cave. At the back of this cave there was a small, deep pool. Although no visible spring flowed into the pool, a small stream flowed out and ran out of the cave, cascading down rock fissures, alternately appearing and disappearing from view until it bubbled into a small pool on the west side of the citadel square.
This ledge was ideal as a lookout post. One could survey the whole citadel and even see the main gate. Roughhewn seats in the stone indicated that this had been used for such a purpose at a previous time.
Working together did much to relieve the tension between them. Both Pam and Al were so engrossed in their work they forgot the recent past for a time, and talked eagerly about the next phase of the project.
By late afternoon the rain had stopped and the ropes for the escape route were in place.
The First and Second platoons chose to occupy two buildings on the plaza near the main citadel gate. McTavish decided he would use a building at the southwest side of the plaza as his headquarters and assigned the building next to his to Floyd’s Twenty-fifth Platoon. There was a tower back of Floyd’s building and a stair to the west citadel wall. McTavish asked each platoon to organize their own sentry schedule. Floyd was given responsibility for the lookout ledge and the west portion of the wall.
As evening came, the clouds had cleared and the moon was already high over Halcyon. The next day would see another four platoons enter the city.
Early in the morning, during the third watch, Al was on the lookout ledge while Tom and Dwight were patrolling the west wall. In the pale, pre-dawn light, Al saw two dark figures cross the plaza toward the tower rubble. One of them looked to be Hoffstetter, by his ponderous size and curious shuffling gait. He couldn’t be sure of the other. They began climbing the rubble as if looking for something.
This seems very odd. Should I raise the alarm? For what? Maybe McTavish sent them to look for something? At four in the morning? McTavish already thinks I’m a civilian who bolts at every shadow. Do I really want to add to that?
Eventually Al lost sight of them in the shadows of the rubble. He did not see them reappear.
Soon the sun was up, and a short time later, there was a flurry of activity as the camp started to rouse.
Floyd came up to the lookout and said, “We can’t find Jim Wilson.”
“Is Hoffstetter still here?” asked Al.
“Why? Do you know something?”
“During my watch I thought I saw Hoffstetter and another guy search for something at the tower rubble heap. I lost them in the shadows and didn’t see where they went. Maybe the second person was Wilson?”
“You’d better go and report it to McTavish,” said Floyd. “I’ll relieve you and watch for you here at the lookout post.”
Al climbed down and went looking for McTavish. At first the adjutant informed Al the platoon commander was busy. But Al insisted, so the assistant relented and let him in.
McTavish looked up from a crude map of the city he was studying and said rather brusquely, “What can I do for you?”
“Linder sent me down,” said Al. “I’ve been up at the lookout, and I have some information that might be useful.”
“Go on.”
“It was early in the morning, before first light. I saw two people crossing the square to the rubble heap. They climbed about the heap as if searching for something, and then I lost them in the shadows. Although I kept watching, I never did see them go back the way they came.”
“Did you recognize either of them?” asked McTavish.
“One of them looked like Hoffstetter, but I wasn’t sure about the other one. Hoffstetter wouldn’t also be missing, would he?”
“You know about Wilson, do you?”
“Yes, Linder told me.”
McTavish then called an aide and asked for a thorough search for Hoffstetter.
“If it’s all right with you,” said Al, “I’d like to return to my post, since Linder is standing in for me.”
“Yes, of course,” said McTavish. “Thank you,” he added perfunctorily, without gratitude.
As McTavish turned his eyes back to the map, Al made his way out of the building, across the square, and back up to the lookout. He told Floyd of his conversation with McTavish and then resumed his sentry duties. When the bell sounded that his watch was over, he returned to his room and met Floyd just coming to see him. They sat down on a stone bench in the corner.
“As you might have guessed,” said Floyd, “Hoffstetter is also missing.”
“What does this all mean?” asked Al. “Where could they have gone?”
The two said nothing for a few moments.
“I think I would have seen them if they’d left the rubble heap. Could they have become trapped in the rubble?”
“Maybe they found a way into the tunnel,” said Floyd. “Why don’t we look where you think you saw them?”
They crossed the square and made their way toward the rubble heap. At Al’s direction they began at the bottom and searched. The broken stone was treacherous, and some pieces shifted when they put their weight on them. Finally, near the top they found a large section of the tower that had collapsed. By worming their way through a window, they found an open space in the rubble. They squeezed through gaps between large blocks of stone for about thirty feet until they came upon a larger pocket, which was lit by a greenish glow. The glow came from an opening that looked into a long tunnel.
“So this is where they went,” said Floyd. “Why would they come here?”
“And why would Wilson go with Hoffstetter?” asked Al. “I can see Hoffstetter being a little cracked, but why Wilson?”
Floyd grimaced. “I don’t know. I really don’t know,” he said. “Now what do we do?”
“Right now everything is conjecture,” said Al. “We really aren’t sure that Wilson and Hoffstetter went inside. I’ve already gone to McTavish once. If we go again we’ll reinforce his conviction that we’re not good enough to be part of a military operation.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Floyd. “If he really takes your story seriously, he’ll send some one here to investigate, and then he’ll know as much as we know now. Let’s wait and see what McTavish does. Eventually we’ll have to tell him. Should we block up this hole?”
“I’d like to!” said Al. “But if we do, how will Wilson and Hoffstetter get back if they find their way back to the tunnel? I think the best we can do is wait for McTavish to act on what I told him, and keep an eye on the rubble hole from the lookout.”
McTavish ordered Floyd’s platoon to stand guard over the citadel while the other three platoons searched the lower city, house to house. Late in the afternoon, four more platoons arrived from City Point and were given another large building to use as their barracks.
Since Al had the second dogwatch from 16:00 to 18:00 for the coming evening and had agreed to take the midnight to 04:00 watch for Stan, he slept until early in the afternoon, had a bite to eat, and then caught up on the latest news. There was still no sign of Wilson or Hoffstetter. Much of the lower city remained to be searched, but there was no trace of recent human activity anywhere.
Al climbed back up to the perch a little before his watch was due to start, to relieve Pam, who had the watch before him. She seemed quite on edge. They talked for a few minutes. She’d not seen or heard anything, but she’d had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being watched.
She said good night and made her way back down. Al watched her longingly until she was out of sight. He knew better than to dwell on her and forced himself to deliberately look around the citadel. He also had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being watched.
The moon was just setting. Al could see the dark figures of the sentries on the citadel wall below him. Occasionally the moonlight glinted from a crossbow or a drawn blade.
“Al!” a voice whispered from behind him.
Al froze. A chill crept along his spine.
“Al, it’s me, Dave.”
Almost against his will, Al forced himself to turn around. The cave behind him was pitch black. A large figure loomed. Al stifled a cry. He tried to speak, but his voice quavered.
“Is that really you, Dave? It can’t be! You’re alive?”
“Yes, I’m alive,” Dave said quietly as he walked out and sat down beside Al. Al saw a large figure towering above him in the starlight. Steeling himself he grabbed his arm and felt buckskin. They clapped each other on the back, and Al felt the air squeezed from his lungs as he was crushed in a bear hug. It was Dave. If anything, he seemed quieter and stronger than before, and there was an aura of confidence about him that was communicated by his bearing. He was stern and dignified, like an ancient king coming to a parley, yet at the same time young and full of health.
Al was filled with sudden joy and grabbed his arm again. “I thought you were dead!”
“I know,” said Dave. “After the ape¬men got me, I thought I was dead too.”
“Why all the secrecy?” said Al. “Why didn’t you rejoin us as soon as we came?”
“I met some friends. Listen, Al, you’re in great danger—”
“I know, the ape¬men,” said Al.
“No!” said Dave. “A much bigger danger even than the ape¬men. Hoffstetter has betrayed you.”
“What are you talking about?” asked Al.
Dave took a deep breath. “Let me tell you my whole story. Let me tell it to you from the beginning and then you’ll understand. Then we’ve got to decide what to do about it.”