Read Online The Last President by John Barnes - Free Book Online Page B

bowman in the lead one to launch inaccurate, wobbly arrows onto the shore. Abby’s voice carried on the wind behind them.
“Everybody down!”
    â€œDown!” Highbotham echoed, and dove onto the sand. All around her she could hear the kids doing the same. Three more rockets roared over them. The beach and sea were briefly brighter than day.
    One splashed to extinction without detonating. One burst early, scattering blobs of burning tallow onto the water. The last lost a fin, looped once, and fizzled into brief pathetic fire as it fell harmlessly into the sea. The Daybreakers cheered, rowing as hard as they could, much closer, now, because the rockets had taken up time when snipers might have been working.
    â€œCrossbowmen and riflemen,” Highbotham said, “pick
one
target—a helmsman or a bowman—and on my count of three, take
one
real good shot. Squads Nine and Eleven, as soon as those shots are fired, move back into a line fifty yards back. Twelve and Thirteen, fifty yards behind the first line. Backwards leapfrog, like in drills; we’ve
got
to give the rocketeers time to reload. All right, on—”
    A
boom!
shockingly loud and close.
    Highbotham looked and laughed, a little madly. “Belay all that! Pick targets and fire at will, we’re winning.”
    Cuppa Joe
, under full sail in the light land breeze, was sailing into Punnett Bay; a shot from her bow chaser had capsized the longboat nearest shore. The cannon boomed again, making a big splash in front of the next boat, which then veered when a crossbow bolt struck the steersman in the face, knocking him backwards into the sea. Another shot from
Cuppa Joe
holed the boat, sinking it in seconds.
    The last boat was pulling south, either running away or trying for a flank attack.
Cuppa Joe
fired again, capsizing it.
    As heads bobbed up in the bay, crossbowmen began picking them off.
We really should talk about taking prisoners, soon.
    Morse blinked from the stern of
Cuppa Joe
; it wasn’t encrypted, so Highbotham and everyone read it together. TOWN MILITIA ARRIVING. CJ PROCEEDING COAKLEY. GOOD HUNTING.
    Highbotham walked slowly back up the beach. The sounds from the landward side were no longer of battle but of rout. The absence of chanting and drums, and the rhythm of volley fire, told her that the Daybreakers who had overstayed were trapped between the fence and the town militia.
    As she arrived at Abby’s rocket station, she heard no more volleys, just wailing from the few Daybreakers left alive. A few of those could be rehabilitated in their seizure-recovery phases, according to the latest Jamesgram; the Christiansted town council had voted to try it the next time they had prisoners. Scattered distant shots meant pursuit continued.
    Highbotham couldn’t hear waves hissing down the shore, and some people’s mouths were moving without her being able to understand them;
ear protection for everyone, one more thing to think about soon.
Right now she just needed to report to Murcheson, who commanded overall island defense, and “get everyone to bed, Abby, as soon as you can.”
    Abby looked up from where they were swabbing out rocket tubes. “Right, Captain. Richard’s already taken a party to go bring the little kids back.”
    â€œGood job on the rockets,” Highbotham said. “Good job on everything.”
    Abby nodded; in the moonlight her hair was almost phosphorescent, and her face was streaked ghostly white and black from the soot of her rocket launching. “We can do everything here now. You’ll want to get the land side squared away, and then get down to C-sted for the commanders’ meeting.”
    â€œYeah. Tired.”
    â€œWell, we were fighting for nearly four hours, Captain. That’s false dawn over east.” Abby took a deep drink from her water bottle.
    That reminded Highbotham to drink from her own. “I’m kind of disturbed that none of our kids