Ferndale's Second War for Independance V

The army was already on the march by the time that John had gotten close to them, not that it mattered, not to his purposes. He wasn’t to kill anyone, John repeated to himself, though he was smart enough to know that it could happen despite their intentions. He was also smart enough to know that if this didn’t work the next time he was sent out he might have orders to kill, it wasn’t a pleasant thought. He couldn’t mess up, John assured himself, that was all that that meant.

John was actually more comfortable with the army being on the march already; it meant that he would be less likely to catch them in the explosion by accident. It was the next part of the plan, the part that Sam hadn’t talked about with the rulers that was now worrying John, the part where he would let himself get captured. Kerma and Frendral would never allow such a plan to go into implementation, they were too protective. That meant that a lot of things had to be done behind their backs, like some of the planning between the other city leaders.

The explosives were now buried in the sand and John was already a good way off when the fuse finally reached what ever it was that the farmers put in their little packages. The effect was immediate, and impressive, sand went everywhere. Even if the army wasn’t unnerved by the blast that happened right behind them, they wouldn’t be able to see the wall of Ferndale to attack it. Ferndale would be safe, at least for the moment. John breathed a sigh of relief, though the hardest part for him was yet to come.

The army came out of the dust and blowing sand coughing and choking, some of them John noticed guiltily had burns from the explosion, and others were blind from the sand. For a little while everyone was too busy with their misery to notice John sitting, pretending to nurse an ankle. The enemy would be suspicious if he stuck around with no excuse, and a sprained ankle was a good one. It couldn’t be found incorrect by the army doctors but it would give him a reason for not being able to run.

“Major, there’s someone over there,” said someone finally. John felt a release of tension, he had been worried up until this point but there was not point now, there was nothing for him to do. The die had been cast and now he just had to go with the roll. It was moments like this he realized just how much Tom’s thinking had invaded his own; everything was a game, except protecting Ferndale, which was very real. Ferndale had been protected, now it was time for the game, never mind that the game involved his life as a stake. He didn’t think he would be taken as a spy after that explosion, now he was just an enemy soldier who had carried out a dangerous mission, which lessened his chance of death but didn’t get rid of it completely.

John was starting to wonder if he was going to be given the chance to talk to any officer at all after a few hours. Rather then being dragged into the officer’s presence right away, instead he had just been tied up and thrown into a tent, under guard of course. Finally they came back for him and he literally was dragged in front of the major. The guard propped him into a chair, still well bound, and left him and the major alone.

“What was it that you used?” the major asked, turning to face John. “My men and I have never seen anything like that before and we’ve been through a lot.”

“I used a warning, the next time I was told to put that stuff under your feet. Other then that I couldn’t tell you what it was, I don’t know myself,” John lied. No one could lie like a captured spy. “I’m just one of the foot soldiers; dregs they don’t care get blown up. You’d have to ask one of my officers if you want to know details.”

“You’re loyal to a city that’s willing to use you like trash?” the major asked. John grinned to himself, the old angle of trying to turn someone against their cause; he showed the major a wavering face though.

To be continued...