The Little Big Horn below him flowed red. A dozen blue coats lay still in the shallow water as more tried to escape. Bouyer saw Reno to his left, scrambling on all fours up the slope toward the top of the bluff. There was no coordinated withdrawal, just a mad desperate rush to escape. Cursing, Bouyer got to his feet and dashed up the bluff until he reached the top, about a hundred fifty steep feet above the Little Big horn. There were about two dozen soldiers already there, most dazed and just lying about. The bluff was covered with knee-high grass and had great views in all directions.
Bouyer looked to the north. He could hear gunfire although it was hard to determine exactly in what direction or how far it was, as there was still considerable firing from below. He couldn’t see anything, no sign of Custer or the other half of the Seventh Cavalry.
This was not coming together the way Bouyer had expected. He’d thought there would be one magnificent battle with the entire Seventh pitched against the united Indian tribes. He blinked sweat out of his eyes, sensing failure. The skulls were dispersed, he knew that. He needed to bring them together. He’d given them to the names listed on the paper he’d received, but he had little idea where all those people were now.
He saw Reno now on the top of the bluff, collapsing to the ground. Bouyer went over to the major. “Sir!”
Reno’s eyes had the distant stare of one who had seen things they wished they never had. Bouyer slapped him across the face hard. “Sir. You need to rally the men. The Sioux ain’t gonna stop. They’re gonna come right up that hill you came up unless you put some hot lead into them.”
Reno blinked, as if Bouyer were speaking a foreign language. Hell, Bouyer thought. Reno not only needed to organize a defense, he needed to gather a strike force to ride out and find Custer. There were at least fifty men here now, with more straggling in every minute. Bouyer grabbed Reno by the shirt and spoke slowly, but forcefully. ‘’Major, you need to take command. Now!”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Earhart had never experienced flight like this. The pod around was displaying the three-hundred-sixty-degree view from the outside of the sphere. She could look in any direction, and she could also direct the sphere to go in that direction simply by pressing one of four lit buttons on the waist-high console that wrapped around her. Up. down. Left. And right or any combination thereof. Simplicity in the utmost.
There was a city below, with several beaches east and south, and a steep hill with a large statue on top of it. Rio de Janeiro. Earhart had flown there once before. They were over South America.
“Can you deploy the panels?” Dane’s voice interrupted her flying reverie.
Earhart looked down at the console. It had come alive when Dane powered up the ship, and at first she had concentrated simply on searching for the controls to maneuver the sphere. Those for the panels weren’t hard, either. A small accordion like symbol was to her right. She pushed it. A loud rumbling noise reverberated through the sphere. Directly in front of her, on the inside of the pod’s surface, a small window appeared, showing the large cargo bay above, and the top of the sphere began opening. The gap grew wider until the entire top was open. Then the panels began folding outward, extending in both directions.
Dane had his hands off the portal map, but power was still flowing through him into the pedestal on which the map was placed. The draw wasn’t as intense as it was while moving through a portal, but it was still appreciable. He kept his eyes closed. But there wasn’t anything he could do about the sounds of multiplied pain that echoed through the chamber. He prayed that the Shadow wasn’t an Earth time line, because any civilization that would develop and use such a mode of power was as evil as Nazi Germany.
That gave Dane pause for a moment as he remembered his Vision of the flag with the hammer and sickle flying over the White House. Could…
He was jerked out of this train of thought by Earhart’s voice. “We’re moving through the atmosphere. The panels seem to be working. We’re drawing in something.”
“Where’s it going?” Dane asked.
There was a pause, then Earhart replied. “Into the panels and storage area. I’ve got some sort of reading. Seventy percent I’m assuming that’s against the capacity the sphere can store.”
“Is it enough for what we need?”
“I have no idea. But we can’t take back more than this thing can store. We have to hope it’s enough.”
Dane opened his eyes. Most of the sailors in the alcoves were dead. One of the still living met his gaze with an anguished look. The leads Dane had noticed were in the man’s body, most likely activated when Dane had accessed the portal map.
“How much longer’?” Dane asked, unable to break the man’s accusing gaze.
“Not too much longer.” There was a pause. “We’re over the South Atlantic now, moving west to east. We came in over Rio. There was nobody there. The city was deserted, I saw no signs of human life.”
“We knew that,” Dane said. “Any idea what happened to help people?”
“Not a clue. Ninety percent, I’m turning back toward the portal.”
Dane tore his eyes away from the man. He took a quick count. Fewer than fifteen were still alive. The heads of the rest were just like those who had previously occupied the alcoves, solidified into dull gray skulls. He looked down. The portal map looked like a mass of pulsing golden snakes. He forced his hands into it, feeling the heat.
Visions, glimpses of other Earth time lines shot through his mind, but he focused on finding this one. He caught a glimpse of the abandoned city, recognizing Rio now, and he hold.
“We’re at one hundred percent capacity,” Earhart reported. “I see the portal.”
Dane flinched as a spasm of red hot pain shot into his palm.
“Keep it open. Eric!”
He could hear the panic in Earhart’s voice. He gritted his and tightened his grip. Ignoring the pain. It felt as if his bands were on fire, burning. He could even feel the flesh peeling back. The pain went deeper and deeper, into the marrow of his bones.
“Steady.” Earhart’s voice was almost a whisper, as if she were afraid anything louder would distract him. “Steady. Eric. Steady.”
The sphere lurched.
“We’re in. Now to your Earth time line.”
Dane pulled his bands away from the portal map, surprised to see them intact. He looked about. “We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“They’re all dead.”
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
“We have to cross now!” Reynolds yelled at Captain Yates. The entire unit was stalled, some of Yates’s men laying down a covering fire across the river, but the rest were bottled up in the coulee, able to neither advance nor go back due to the press of the column coming downhill behind them. The firing from the Indian side was getting stronger.
Yates was dismounted, standing next to where Tom Custer was tending to his brother. The younger Custer. Boston. Was there along with the youth, Autie. A family gathering, thought Reynolds, but one that had taken the heart out of the regiment.
If Yates wouldn’t act, Reynolds knew he had to. He turned his horse toward the river and rode into the water, hoping that some of the troopers would follow him. He knew they could take the crossing with one charge and if they did that, the way into the village would be open. Beyond that he didn’t know what would happen, but he saw it as their only chance. If they could take some squaws and children hostage, perhaps they could negotiate their way out of this.