The Last Mission Of The Seventh Cavalry. Charley Brindley

wish,” Karina said. “I tried to connect again, but there’s no signal. I’ve got all my books on a microchip.”

      Two riders came along the trail, from the front of the column. When they saw the platoon, they left the trail and dismounted.

      “Hey,” Kawalski said, “it’s the elephant girls.”

      Karina put down her iPad and went to greet the two women. Alexander, Kawalski, Lojab, and Kady followed.

      The women stood by their horses, holding onto the reins. They seemed hesitant, unsure about how to approach the strangers. Their clothing was similar to the other women on the trail, but the cloth had a finer weave, and the cut was more formfitting. The colors of taupe and fawn, with bits of red trim, looked fresh and lively. Their outfits consisted of short tunics over unfooted Thorsberg trousers, and their leather sandals had beaded tassel embellishments around the ankles.

      Karina held her hand out to the brunette. “Hello, it’s good to see you again.”

      The woman smiled and took Karina’s hand, then spoke a few words.

      Karina shook her head. “I don’t understand your language.”

      The blonde said something to Kady.

      “Can’t you speak English?” Kady asked.

      The other woman spoke again, then the blonde said something.

      “You know what they’re doing, Sarge?” Kawalski asked.

      “Talking a lot and not saying anything?”

      “I think they’re trying out different languages on us.”

      “Yeah, well,” Lojab said, “I think they’re idiots. Why can’t they speak English like everyone else?”

      “It’s all Greek to me,” Kady said.

      Alexander looked at Kady. “You could be right. Hey, Spiros,” he said into his mic.

      “Yeah, Sarge?” Private Zorba Spiros said.

      “Where are you?”

      “I’m right here, at the other campfire.”

      “Come up here, on the double.”

      Spiros was soon standing beside Alexander. “Wow, they’re hot.”

      “You’re Greek, right?” Alexander said.

      “My parents are.”

      “Try some Greek on these people.”

      “I don’t speak it very well.”

      “Can you say, ‘Hello, where the hell are we?’”

      Spiros spoke two words, paused, looked at the ground, then at the trees. “Um…” he said, then asked a question in Greek.

      The two women stared at him for a moment, then looked at each other. The one on the right asked Spiros a question.

      “What?” Spiros said, holding out his hands, palms up.

      The other woman asked the same question.

      “What is it, Spiros?” Alexander asked. “Are they speaking Greek?”

      “Yeah, but…”

      “But what?”

      “It’s not Greek like I learned. It’s sort of…a different dialect or something.”

      The first woman asked another question.

      “I think they asked what language I spoke, then she asked if we came from Iberia.”

      “Ask her how far we are from Kandahar,” Alexander said.

      Spiros asked the question, and the one on the left responded. “She asked, ‘How far to where?’ They never heard of Kandahar.”

      The woman said something else.

      “Hey…” Spiros stared at the blonde.

      “What is it?” Alexander asked.

      “I think they’re speaking Linear B.”

      “Linear what?”

      “Linear B,” Spiros said.

      “Wait a minute,” Karina said. “Linear B was never a spoken language. It was an ancient form of written Greek.”

      “You mean,” Kawalski said, “they’re not speaking modern Greek?”

      “Yes,” Spiros said. “Do you remember, in high school, reading the Canterbury Tales and some of it was written in Middle English?”

      “Yeah,” Alexander said.

      “If someone spoke to you in Old English, you would have a hard time making it out, but some of the words are the same as they are now. That’s what I’m hearing, some Greek words I understand, but many that are ancient Greek.”

      The woman with brown hair touched Spiros’s arm and asked a question.

      Spiros looked surprised, then shook his head. “No.”

      “What did she say?” Alexander asked.

      “She asked if we’re Romans.”

      Chapter Six

      “Get the Apache,” Kawalski said. “She can talk Native American to them.”

      “You know what, Kawalski?” Alexander said.

      “Yeah, I know. Shut the fuck up.”

      “Occasionally, Kawalski,” Alexander said, “you have a spark of brilliance.” He spoke into his mic, “Private Autumn Eaglemoon, front and center.”

      Autumn jogged up to where Alexander and the others stood facing the two women. “If they don’t understand English, Sarge, they sure as hell won’t understand Apache.” She’d been listening to the conversation on her comm.

      “No,” Alexander said. “But at Kawalski’s birthday party, they played ‘Born This Way,’ and you got up and did the song in sign language.”

      “Yeah, but I was just about two-thirds drunk at the time.” She looked at the two women. “I can’t talk to these people in sign language.” She looked at Alexander. “Unless you got a bottle of firewater tucked away in your backpack.”

      “Just try it, Eaglemoon. If it doesn’t work, we’ll try something else.”

      “All right, you’re the boss.” She handed her rifle to Alexander and dropped her backpack on the ground. “Since you ain’t got no alcohol, I’ll just have to wing it. Now, let me see.” She made a hand motion, indicating all the troops in her platoon. “We,” she joined her hands in a bird-like shape and fluttered them in the air, “flew high in the sky.” She raised her hands above her head and cupped them into parachute shapes, then floated them down. “We jumped from our plane and floated down to the ground.”

      The two women intently watched Autumn’s hand and body motions. The brown-haired one seemed mystified, but the blonde came over to Autumn. She touched her arm, said some words, and pointed to a crow flying above. She repeated Autumn’s sign language and finished with a questioning look, as if asking if that was correct.

      “Yes,” Autumn said. “And now,” she raised her arms and held out her hands, palm up, while shrugging and looking about, as if searching for something, “we are lost.”

      The blonde stared at Autumn for a moment, then made the motion to include everyone in the platoon. “Ve are vost?” She said and repeated Autumn’s signs for being lost.

      Autumn nodded.

      The blonde shook her head, reached for Autumn, and put an arm around her shoulders. She spoke some words and backed away, keeping her hand on Autumn’s arm. She made the motion for all of Alexander’s soldiers, then the same motion indicating all of her people as she spoke some words.

      Autumn interpreted what she thought the woman