Riverworld Anthology - Tales of Riverworld Part 25

"One and the same," said Mary. "The five of us recognised his handiwork right off. Not only the victims got resurrected here, but their murderer as well. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d killed his prey from behind, slas.h.i.+ng open their throats with his knife. Afterward, he mutilated the bod-318.ies. Cut them to shreds, tearing their insides apart. And, of course, his victims were always women."

"It took us six weeks to catch 'im," said Cathy. "Six long weeks of watching and waiting for the b.u.g.g.e.r to make a mistake. He finally did, and we bagged 'im. Caught the b.a.s.t.a.r.d red-handed." The woman laughed at her grisly pun. "b.l.o.o.d.y mess it was, too."

"Who was he?" asked Mason.

"Some middle-cla.s.s prig whose father died from the clap," said Mary. "He blamed the old man's death on wh.o.r.es in general and figured he'd eliminate the problem with a knife."

"I thought the mentally ill were cured before their resurrection," said Bowie.

"He weren't insane," replied Mary, "at least not by his own standards. The Ripper felt he was doing society a favour. Thought the same when he returned to life. d.a.m.ned maniac considered women to be servants of the devil. He felt it his sacred obligation to punish immoral behaviour."

"Lots of that goin' round," said Davy Crockett. "Must have kept him busy."

"He killed twelve women in those six weeks," said Mary, her voice grim. "Soon as we had him, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d tried to commit suicide. He might be mad, but he weren't crazy. Ripper knew that death wasn't final on the River. Instead, he'd be born somewhere else, without anyone knowing a thing about him. What more could a murderer ask? This resurrection business meant he could kill all he liked, without ever being punished."

"Death offered him a perfect method of escape," added Cathy. "That's why we couldn't let him die. Pharaoh gave the Ripper to us to do what we wanted. According to him, we that suffered from the Ripper's319.crimes on Earth deserved to set his punishment in the afterlife. It was Mary who came up with the plan."

"You decided to keep him alive," said Bowie, comprehension growing within him. "So he couldn't harm anyone else."

"Right you are, guv," said Mary. "Weren't even plannin' to hurt him. We might be lowborn, but we ain't savages. Then the Ripper tried killin' Annie Chapman during an escape attempt. That's when we cut off his fingers and toes and put out his eyes. And put him in that cage there. Haven't had any problems since then.

"The five of us take turns guarding him. Mostly makin' sure he don't succeed in killing himself. It ain't much fun, but somebody's got to do it."

The woman lowered her crossbow. "You've heard my story. Still want to set the Ripper free?"

Slowly, Bowie shook his head. "No. But there must be a better way to handle-"

"I'm waiting to hear one," interrupted Mary. "Whatever G.o.ds resurrected us all, they didn't provide any easy answers. Your friend told me the name of your boat. Well, that's the way I see our problem. If we let the Ripper die, he's reborn to kill again. And keeping him alive ain't much better. Either way, he's unfinished business."

Silently, Davy Crockett stared at the mutilated man huddled at the far side of the cage. The Ripper chewed his dreamgum, lost in the mad world of his own mind. The frontiersman shook his head and turned away from the bars. "What do you do when his fingers and toes grow back?" he asked.

"We cut them off again," said Mary. "And again and again and again."

On the way back to the boat, Socrates, who had not320.said a word during their entire confrontation, voiced the thought that was in all of their minds. "That," he declared sadly, "whatever it may be, is not justice."

After the encounter with the Ripper and his captors, Davy Crockett quit talking about Santa Anna and revenge. Evidently, the frontiersman started having second thoughts about his mission. A number of times during the next week, Bowie spotted his friend engaged in deep conversation with Socrates. Crockett never smiled during those talks.

The whole purpose of their adventure came into question a thousand miles farther down the River. The Unfinished Business was docked in a Chinese village for the usual reasons. The Spartans, under Lysander, had marched off down the beach to compete in athletic contests. Crockett and Mason, Socrates and Thorberg remained on board, playing bridge with a deck of handmade cards. The historian had taught the others the game a few weeks back, and ever since they played whenever possible. Isaac, silent as ever, watched.

As usual, Bowie spent most of his time meeting with the village elders. Each stop on the River fuelled his desire to discover what lay farther on. For all of the dangers and uncertainties of the trip, he was no longer bored. And, on Riverworld, that meant a great deal.

Returning back to the s.h.i.+p late that afternoon, Bowie found himself in the company of a short, slender male Caucasian. "M'sieur Bowie, I am led to believe?" the321.stranger asked. Though he spoke Esperanto, there was no question he was a Frenchman.

"That's me," the Texan answered. "Do I know you?"

"Not in the least," the Frenchman replied. "I am Maurice LeBlanc, formerly a mathematician from Tours, France, circa 1900."

"Interesting enough," said Bowie, continuing toward the boat. "But what's it to me?"

"This morning I saw your vessel arrive. Later, from a friend on the high council, I learned your story. You and your friends are engaged on a n.o.ble enterprise, to be sure! It would be a great honour if you would allow me to join on this voyage."

"Sorry," said Bowie. "No hitchhikers." He had learned the phrase from Mason and used it frequently. Half the people they met wanted to sail on the Unfinished Business. "We don't have the room."

"Of course, of course," said LeBlanc. "But I have, as you say, unfinished business along the River. And, to that end, I am willing to pay for my pa.s.sage."

Bowie smiled, impressed in spite of himself with the Frenchman's pluck. "Only thing worth much on the River is metal," he declared, looking LeBlanc up and down with a critical eye. "Which you don't got."

"A-ha," said LeBlanc with a sly smile of triumph. "Your materialism betrays you, mon ami. On this strange new world of ours, one thing is worth more than iron and steel. Information."

"Keep talkin'," said Bowie. They were in sight of the s.h.i.+p now, but he was in no hurry to get there. "What do you know that I want to hear?"

"According to my friend on the council, you require news of a certain Mexican politician named Santa Anna.322.I am acquainted with the whereabouts of the General. In trade for transportation, I will gladly tell you all I know about him. Including his present location."

Bowie laughed. "Who you lookin' for on the River, Frenchie?"

"Another mathematician," replied LeBlanc, "by the name of Pierre de Fermat. I would like to discuss with him a certain theorem, his last theorem, which perplexed Earthly mathematicians, myself included, for centuries. I must know the truth."

"Odd sort of reason to head off down the River," said Bowie, shaking his head. "But I was never one much for numbers. Come with me and let's see what the others think."

No one objected to LeBlanc's terms. On a planet with thirty-five billion people, searching for one man was akin to looking for a single grain of sand on the beach. The Frenchman was right. Knowledge was worth more than anything else on the Riverworld, even iron. They unanimously voted him a member of the expedition in return for his cooperation.

"Six times I have died since Resurrection Day," LeBlanc declared, making himself comfortable on the p.o.o.p deck. "By nature, I am the quiet, retiring type. I dislike fighting and violence of any kind. However, I am also a Frenchman, and from time to time, I find myself forced to make a stand against the barbarism of my fellow man. Above all, I believe in liberty, fraternity, equality."

"Why do I have a difficult time imaginin' you a mild-mannered sort of guy?" asked Crockett, grinning. "You sure about that, LeBlanc?"

"Perhaps my years with the Foreign Legion betray me more than I care to admit," said the Frenchman, a323.twinkle in his eyes. "I a.s.sure you, I only lose my temper in good cause."

"You're my type of fella, LeBlanc," said Crockett. "Betcha keep that temper in control a coupla hours every week."

"About that," admitted the Frenchman. "Which has led to my violent demise several times on this uncivilised world. What concerns us today is my most recent death, only a few weeks ago."

LeBlanc's cheerful features turned serious. "If, as many have surmised, the civilisations on the River follow a somewhat historical order, I translated here from a valley several million miles away. It was the home of a nation of seventeenth-century Indians from South America. During my sojourn there, these normally peaceful natives were fighting for their lives against a horde of invaders from the north who had already overrun a dozen nearby valleys. At the time of my death, in a minor skirmish with the enemy, a large party of reinforcements had just arrived from the south. In my humble opinion, a major war was brewing.

"One of probably hundreds taking place along the River," said Bowie. "Resurrection sure didn't change mankind's basic nature. We sure the h.e.l.l were an ornery bunch."

"Not that I ain't interested in your adventures, LeBlanc," said Crockett, "but how does Santa Anna fit in the picture?"

"I am coming to that," said the Frenchman. "The invading armada, and that term was singularly appropriate, consisted of a fleet of s.h.i.+ps carrying sixteenth-century Spaniards under the leaders.h.i.+p of Philip II of Spain. Their terms to the Indians were quite explicit: convert to Catholicism or die. Aiding the King in his mission was the infamous leader of the Inquisition, Torquemada."324.Socrates sighed. "How many tears the G.o.ds must shed over the crimes committed in their names."

"My native friends were helpless against the invaders. Only the timely arrival of the southern forces saved them from annihilation. Can you guess who led that rescue force?"

Crockett groaned. "Santy Anna. He always claimed to be a man of the people. Even the Indians."

"Three men commanded the relief troops. You guessed correctly about Santa Anna. The other two were Simon Bolivar, whose name I recognised, and a man unknown to me, Che Guevara. All of them seemed dedicated to saving the Indians from Philip and Torquemada."

"Great news," said Crockett bitterly. "How can I kill that son of a b.i.t.c.h if he's a hero? Besides, killing him wouldn't serve much purpose if he's just born again somewhere else."

The frontiersman rose to his feet. "Maybe this trip wasn't such a great idea after all. Maybe whatever business we left unfinished on Earth deserved to be forgotten."

"You suggesting we abandon the voyage?" asked Bowie.

"I don't know," replied Crockett. "Suddenly, though, I'm not so sure we should continue. Besides, if LeBlanc's right, Santa Anna's five million miles away. That's a mighty long trip."

"We must continue," said Isaac softly. His gaze swept the group and came to rest on Bowie. "You understand why."

"I think so," admitted the Texan, sorrow filling his voice. "You were there, weren't you?"

Isaac nodded. "I was there."

A minute pa.s.sed before he continued. "A captain of the Roman legions, I served in Judea under Pontius325.Pilate. The squadron I commanded handled the execution of Rome's enemies. On that fateful day in Jerusalem, we were commanded to execute three men-two thieves and a rabble-rouser. A good soldier, I followed my orders. The three were crucified."

Isaac drew in a deep breath, his voice crackling with emotion as he continued. "I personally drove the nails into his hands, the man called Yeshua. As I had done with many others over the years. Only this time, instead of cursing or shrieking in pain, he whispered words of absolution to me. 'I forgive you, my son,' he said. 'You only do G.o.d's will.' " Tears trickled down Isaac's face. "And, then afterward, when we raised the cross, the look in his eyes... the look in his eyes..."

The Roman stopped for a moment, unable to continue. No one made a sound. There was nothing that anyone could say to lessen the pain.

"I must find him," said Isaac. "He lives again somewhere on this world. Only he can grant me peace. That is why I cannot stop searching. Why I will not stop searching."

"Well," said Bill Mason, groping for the right words, "I still never found Jack Ruby. And, I'd like to ask King Richard III a few questions about the Tower of London."

"Do not forget Fermat," added LeBlanc. "Mathematics demands I continue the hunt."

"Maybe revenge ain't the answer," said Crockett. "But who knows? Maybe by the time we caught up with Santy Anna, the General might be up to his old tricks again. Forget everything I said before. What's a few million miles to Davy Crockett, king of the Wild Frontier?"

Bowie grinned. "For a minute there, I almost worried that you boys might make the wrong decision. Glad to see you woke up in time. Life without challenges ain't worth326.living. And, since dyin' is out of the question, I figure we might as well live the best we can. Now, enough of this jawing. Let's round up those Spartans and get going."

Socrates, as always, had to have the last word. "Can it be," he asked solemnly, the barest trace of a smile betraying his true feelings, "that we humans misunderstand the whole reason for our resurrection? Perhaps whatever Powers exist created this entire Riverworld not for our redemption but for theirs. Our meanderings and wanderings may be reflections on the true purpose of a much greater drama. At times, I suspect that the Lords of the River are manipulating us for their own devices. I wonder if we are not merely actors seeking to complete the G.o.ds'... unfinished business?"