The Mountain: An Event Group Thriller (47 page)

*   *   *

Jessy opened his eyes at the same moment John Henry started screaming in his dreams. He hurried from his car and made it through the windblown opening between. As he approached Thomas’s car he saw Gray Dog as he had never seen him before—asleep and not moving. It was as though the boy had been drugged. He pushed aside the sitting Comanche and tried to open the door, but it refused to budge.

“What is it?”

Jessy turned and saw Claire standing behind him. His eyes told her everything. Their gaze was punctuated by a scream inside the darkened railcar. As Claire pulled her dressing gown tighter around her, she realized that it was freezing inside the car. As she passed between the cars she’d felt the night was brisk, but not as cold as it was inside once she entered the second-to-last car. She heard John Henry yell something incoherent.

“Break it down!” she cried as she feared what was happening inside.

Taylor battered the door. Then another body slammed into it from the side as Gray Dog had finally awakened from his unnatural sleep. Both men pushed with their shoulders and the door cracked. Again they pushed as the air rushed by in between cars. The door finally gave, but both men came to a startled stop. Even Claire could see the entity as it stood over John Henry. It was large and it was blacker than the darkness of the car. The giant shadow turned toward them and they saw its mouth widen. They were struck by the sounds of thousands of dying and distressed voices. They were mixed women, children, and men as the maw widened farther. The sounds of slaughter—ten thousand years of man’s crimes against men sounded in all of those terrified and pain-filled voices coming from the blackness.

“Oh, God!” Claire screamed as the entity turned fully. The blackness was complete, but they could all swear they saw things moving in that blackness. It was like a shadow covered with millions of moving insects.

Suddenly with a last scream from John Henry the shadowlike darkness closed and then opened the massive mouth wide and out came a roar of an animal the likes of which had not roamed the world in its existence. Then the shadow vanished and the two oil lamps slowly came up in intensity.

“What in the hell was that?” Taylor said as Claire rushed past him and into the railcar.

“Death,” Gray Dog said as finally he too went in to see about Thomas.

Jessy watched as they slowly coaxed John Henry to come around. As for Taylor, he stepped back into the cold night air and closed the door as he realized what it must have been that made John Henry scream the way he had. They were the same screams he had heard the day he had come upon John Henry cradling his sister’s headless body on a burning porch. John Henry was reliving the past.

He moved his head into the slipstream of the moving train and looked eastward. In the moonlight he saw the range of mountains for the first time. He shivered in the night as he spied the snowcapped summit.

“Gray Dog is putting him to bed. He says the colonel has never been this drunk. I suspect that had something to do with his vivid dreams,” came the raised voice as it reached him through all of the train’s noise.

Taylor turned and saw Claire standing outside in the cold air.

“For a spy, you don’t seem to be very observant, Miss Anderson, or Madame Richelieu, whatever you prefer,” Jessy said as he turned fully to face her. “I’ll tell you what I saw. I saw a large shadow standing over John Henry with an outstretched hand touching his head as he slept—that’s what I saw.”

Claire didn’t respond as she started to turn away. Jessy took her arm and spun her back around.

“Now, tell me you saw different.”

“I told all of you, something is attached to that artifact that’s not natural. I can’t explain it, and the colonel doesn’t want to hear any theories about it, so I suggest you leave it be.” She angrily shrugged out of Taylor’s grip.

Taylor reached out and took hold of her arm again and pulled her to the opening of the section between cars. The wind caught her hair and it flew back. She saw the mountain range and she froze.

“I think you’d better explain it to us before we reach that!” he screamed against the noise of the tracks.

She saw the mountain range and she wanted to turn away but her head wouldn’t move.

“Because, my dear, we are fast arriving at our destination.”

Claire finally managed to turn back to face the Rebel colonel.

“That,” he pointed harshly, “is Mount Ararat!”

*   *   *

The blackness of the mountain range became visible long before the dawn light of morning illuminated the barren landscape.

Only the peak of Ararat looked down upon the approaching Americans with silent scorn. For this was not the first incursion the mountain had faced.

History would never record the truth that the summit of Ararat had claimed more lives than were lost at the American Battle of Gettysburg.

*   *   *

It had been more than twenty-four hours since the incident in the private car with John Henry. Most had noticed the dark circles under his eyes as he moved past them inside their berthing cars. The Rebel prisoners raised their brows when they saw the silent way he moved about. It was Claire who cornered John Henry as the train pulled into their last water stop before they hit Talise. The sun was bright but the morning had grown cold as the weather took a turn for the worse. Claire bundled herself as best she could without breaking into the cold weather gear. She saw the men milling around as the colonel had ordered most off the train to stretch their legs. She waited at the bottom step of the private car until John Henry and Jessy made an appearance.

“Colonel Thomas, do you have a moment?” she asked as John Henry pulled on a pair of leather gloves. He nodded his head and then looked at Taylor.

“Would you excuse us?”

Jessy took his time lighting a cigar and then looked up as the tobacco caught. He smiled and then looked at Claire. “Careful now. I just glued him back together.” He smiled even wider and then tipped his hat and moved away, humming a tune she couldn’t place.

“He is one complicated man,” she said as she followed the easy gait of the Confederate officer.

“Not exactly the word I would use to describe him,” John Henry said as a little of his old self shone through for the first time in a full day.

“Colonel, about the other night, I just wanted to say—”

“Look, I don’t know what happened. I only have what you people say. I had a nightmare about the death of my wife. It happens quite often, I assure you,” he said and then started walking toward the edge of a small road as the train took on water. He turned and saw the men, even their guards, relaxing on the wild grass that grew on the Turkish plains. The area somewhat reminded Thomas of the Llano Estacada in North Texas in its bareness.

“Colonel, I assure you, there was a presence in that car with you. It was touching you as you slept.”

“That is what Colonel Taylor has been saying. All I can say is that I was dreaming.” He turned away in his stubbornness.

“Listen, I understand that you dream, but I was informed that you never act out in your nightmares. You were screaming. It was if you were watching the event right in front of your eyes. It was terrifying.”

“And you came upon this information how?” he asked as his attention was brought back to the beautiful woman questioning him.

She stood silent, knowing she had betrayed a trust.

“I’ll be having a talk with Sergeant Major Dugan, I can assure you.”

“He’s as concerned as myself, so I’m sure the sergeant major will bear up. I have a feeling he does it quite often anyway. I understand you are plagued by nightmares.”

“You have me there. Yes, and Dugan needs to keep quiet.”

For the first time in what seemed like days they both laughed.

They saw Gray Dog approach. The boy was eating an apple. It was something the Comanche could not get enough of. Grandee had also introduced him to the banana and he found it to be a magical fruit of wondrous taste. John Henry had felt bad for depriving the boy of such simple pleasures in their time in the west. He knew he had been lost for the past five years and how badly it had affected those around him.

Gray Dog chewed on his apple.

He watched the two stop laughing and then John Henry looked at him, waiting to see what Gray Dog had to say.

“We are being watched, John Henry.”

The two of them became still as the colonel slowly turned and looked at the low-slung hills surrounding the train line. He failed to see anything.

“Where?” he asked.

“A mile south of us. Four mounted men. They sit upright in their saddles. Soldiers.”

John Henry looked at the spot Gray Dog had indicated. He was surprised when he saw how far off the Comanche had spotted their guests. He could barely make out the shapes of men sitting upon horses.

“Perhaps they are just Turkish drovers. They’re quite abundant in this region,” Claire said, failing miserably at spotting what the men described.

“Maybe we ought to mount up and go see who they are,” Thomas said as he started to turn back toward the train.

“No,” Gray Dog said as he tossed his apple core away into the tall, dry grass.

“Why?” Thomas asked as he stopped next to the Comanche.

“Because they come,” Gray Dog pointed south.

John Henry turned and saw that the riders were indeed headed toward the stopped train.

“I guess we better put on the tea,” Claire said as she finally saw the four men riding hard toward them.

There was no comment from John Henry as he clearly made out the shining sabers as they flashed in the sun. Whoever they were, they were indeed as Gray Dog had described—soldiers.

*   *   *

The only uniformed officers on the train siding that day were Thomas, Jackson, Taylor, Dugan, and Lieutenant Parnell. The prisoners and the U.S. Marine guard were attired in rugged civilian work clothes. The men idly milled about as normal men would after a long and tiring ride on rough rail. As the military men were posing as army and naval engineers, it stood to reason that they would wear their corresponding uniforms. As for Claire, Ollafson, and McDonald, John Henry had ordered that they stay aboard and away from prying eyes.

As the four riders fast approached, Jessy stepped up to John Henry as he finished his cigar.

“See what color those fancy uniforms are?” he asked as he made a show of not looking in that direction.

“Good old bloodred. Rather startling after such a bleak landscape.”

“Why would the British be so brazen as to approach our little band of fools?” Taylor asked as he watched his men for any sign of them not following orders. Word had spread among his men that if any escape attempt was made without his knowledge he would charge the perpetrators with treason.

“I suspect they will have reason. If not, they expect us to be terrified at the sight of royal red.” John Henry smiled as he faced Taylor. “I am not one to frighten easily at mere colors. You boys in gray should know that.”

“Yes, but then again I guess those gray uniforms were kind of hard to distinguish way out there in Nebraska and Kansas counting Indians.”

Thomas kept the smile on his face as he faced Jessy. “You have an innate ability to get my dander up right when I don’t need the aggravation, you know that?”

Taylor puffed on the cigar as he smiled broadly and waved at the four riders as they entered the water-station area.

“Hell, John Henry, that’s what in-laws are for. You know that.” He waved more vigorously as the men stopped and watched the activity around them. Taylor saw a captain and two lieutenants. The fourth was a bearded sergeant who looked as tough and gruff as Dugan. Each wore the shortened versions of the white pith helmet made famous in Britain’s India campaigns. Taylor thought they looked silly and doffed his fedora just for show.

John Henry reached into his tunic and brought out a cigar and slowly lit it, cupping his hands against the freshening wind. His eyes never left the British officers.

“Gentlemen, welcome to the wilds of the Ottoman Empire. Strange to see more lost souls out here.”

“We are most assuredly not lost. We are in the service of Her Royal Majesty, sent to survey a possible new trade route into Iran and points east.”

Taylor made a show of looking around and then he settled on the mountains not that far distant.

“Mercy, now that would be a task getting men and equipment through those passes up there. Sure you’re up to it?”

“I assure you, sir, those small mountains are no hindrance to Her Royal Majesty’s Engineering Corps. Now, may I have your name, sir?” the blond captain asked as he located the rank on Jessy’s uniform jacket. Spying the small shoulderboards with the silver eagles, the captain waited.

“Name’s Jessop Taylor, colonel, United States Army.” He smiled and bowed with a flair of hat swinging wide and low. He half-turned and smiled at John Henry who watched silently while smoking his cigar. His blue eyes went from a bowing and graceful Taylor to the ruddy face of the English captain.

“Now that the matter of who’s lost and who’s not is settled,” John Henry said as he kept the cigar firmly in front of his face as he smoked, “and you see the rank of the officer in front of you, I believe in our army as well as yours, that the eagles on his shoulders rate a salute, sir.” He stepped forward with one hand in his pants pocket and the other holding his cigar. His size compared to the mounted British was still imposing.

The captain cleared his throat and then noticed the eagles on John Henry’s uniform coat also. He immediately stepped down, but not before lightly slapping the knee of the lieutenant next to him to follow suit. All four men dismounted. The captain approached John Henry but he held a hand up and gestured toward Jessy, who was smiling and smoking. The captain turned and faced the wrongly attired Rebel officer.

“You have my apologies, sir. I am normally not discourteous, no matter what the uniform or situation.”

Taylor smiled as his eyes roamed to John Henry, who had also caught the slight as the captain made a show of examining the Union blue uniform.