StarCraft II: Devil's Due by Golden Christie

Author:Golden, Christie [Golden, Christie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Gallery Books
Published: 2011-04-12T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CENTERVILLE, SHILOH

It was early fall, and the heat was searing.

Jim squinted in the bright sun as the dust devils swirled about him, kicking up little puffs as he walked. He had sent a reply back to Myles, and true to his word, Myles had found a good spot. Jim had had Tychus drop him off in the prearranged site, a field that struck a good balance between “in the middle of nowhere” and “driving distance to town.”

This field should have been bursting with triticale-wheat ready to be harvested. Instead, it was sere and dry. The dust would make for a spectacular sunset, Jim remembered, and as luck would have it, Centerville lay to the west.

He wore nondescript farmer’s clothes that had been left for him at the drop point along with an older-model pickup truck. Jim knew that he was a wanted man, but he also knew Shiloh, and people on this planet tended to mind their own business. He clapped the hat on his head to complete the disguise, climbed into the truck, and took off.

He barely recognized the place. The town itself had sprawled past the limits he remembered as a youth, but many of the buildings had been built, inhabited, and then closed down—an entire life cycle in the period in which he had been away. The main street had several FOR SALE signs on places that Jim had never seen.

It was early evening, and the sun was only beginning its glorious red-hazed descent, so most of the remaining businesses were closed for the day. That made it safer for him. As he passed a small park on the right, something caught his eye. He slowed, made a U-turn, and stopped.

It was a large rectangular wall made of the tan stone quarried in Shiloh. The stone had been cut and highly polished, and there were some kind of drawings etched in it, and a plaque. Curious, Jim climbed out of the truck.

As he drew closer, he realized that it was a memorial for the Guild Wars. A small flame flickered in front of it, and at the little fire’s feet were the words WE WILL NEVER FORGET. The drawings were of farmers on one side, armored Confederate marines on the other. All struck poses so heroic, it would have made a recruitment officer weep.

He walked around to the other side. It was almost completely covered by a huge plaque. Jim realized with a jolt that it was a list of those sons and daughters of Shiloh who had fallen in the wars.

It was a hell of a long list.

Slowly, he reached out and touched the raised names, trailing his fingers downward through the alphabet. Too many to read each one, but those he recognized jumped out at him: Phillip Andrews, Jacob Cavanaugh, Roger Gregson, Henry “Hank” Harnack …

Harnack. Hard to believe he and Jim had grown up as bitter enemies, and become friends, brothers in arms, when they both had joined Heaven’s Devils. Hank’s death … had not been a good one.

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