Hunter's Run Part 6

Maneck leaned closer, as Ramon had hoped, its eyes trained on the dead flesh in his left hand, ignoring the blade in his right. The heady elation of violence filled him, as if he was in the street outside a bar in Diegotown. The monsters didn't know that this thing they'd captured knew how to be a monster too! He waited until Maneck turned its head a little to the side to better squint at the gordita, gordita, exposing the mottled black-and-yellow flesh of its throat, and then he struck- exposing the mottled black-and-yellow flesh of its throat, and then he struck- Abruptly, he was sprawled on his back on the ground, staring up into the violet sky. His stomach muscles were knotted, and he was breathing in harsh little gasps. The pain had hit him like a stone giant's fist, crumpled him and thrown him aside. It had been over in an eyeblink, too quick to be remembered, but his body still ached and twitched with the shock. He had dropped the knife.

You fool, he thought. he thought.

"Interesting," Maneck said. "Why did you do that? I pose you no danger, and so you need not defend yourself. I am not food for you,and so you need not kill me to eat. You have not declared war upon me. I have not gone to a bar, nor do I have money. I have not f.u.c.ked your wife. And still you experience a drive to kill. What is the nature of that drive?"

Ramon would have laughed if he could; it was comic and tragic and deserving of his despairing rage. He levered himself up to sitting. Blood was smeared on his hands and chest from writhing on the corpse of the gordita gordita.

"You . . ." Ramon began. "You knew knew."

Maneck's quills rose and fell. The evil, implacable orange of its eyes seemed to glow in the soft light that filtered through the forest canopy.

"The sahael sahael partic.i.p.ates in your flow," it said. "It will not permit actions on your part that would interfere with your partic.i.p.ates in your flow," it said. "It will not permit actions on your part that would interfere with your tatecreude tatecreude. You cannot harm me in any fas.h.i.+on."

"You can read my mind, then."

"The sahael sahael can prevent action that is can prevent action that is aubre aubre before the action takes place. I do not understand 'read my mind.'" before the action takes place. I do not understand 'read my mind.'"

"You know what I am thinking! You know what I'm going to do before I do it."

"No. To drink from first intentions would disturb the flow and affect your function. It is only when your intention expresses aubre aubre that you are corrected." that you are corrected."

Ramon wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

"So you can't tell what I'm thinking, but you can tell what I'm going to do?"

Maneck considered him in silence, and then said, "Every movement is a cascade from intent to action. The sahael sahael drinks from far up the cascade. The intention to act precedes the action, so you cannot act before I am aware of the action you are taking. Attempts to harm me cannot be completed, and will be punished. You are a primitive being not to know this." It tilted its head to stare more closely at him. drinks from far up the cascade. The intention to act precedes the action, so you cannot act before I am aware of the action you are taking. Attempts to harm me cannot be completed, and will be punished. You are a primitive being not to know this." It tilted its head to stare more closely at him.

85 "Please return to the issue at hand. What is the nature of that drive?

Why do you wish to kill me?"

"Because a man is supposed to be free," Ramon said, pus.h.i.+ng ineffectually at the thick, fleshy leash at his throat. "You're holding me prisoner!"

The alien s.h.i.+fted its head from one side to the other, as if the words meant nothing to it and were literally falling from its ears.

Maneck lifted him easily and set him on his feet. To Ramon's shame and humiliation, the alien gently placed the wire knife back in his hand.

"Continue the function," Maneck said. "You were flaying the corpse of the small animal."

Ramon turned the silver cylinder slowly, shaking his head. He was unmanned. He could no more defeat this thing than an infant child could best his father. He was so little threat to it that it would hand him a weapon with total unconcern. He felt the urge to drive the knife into his own chest and end this humiliation, but he pushed the thoughts away before the sahael sahael could exact its punishment. could exact its punishment.

He sharpened another small stick, using the alien knife, impaled the small bodies upon it, and held the raw meat over the flame. In the beginning, he kept the gordita gordita and the gra.s.shoppers far enough back that the cooking went slowly, but as the scent of grease and cooked meat woke his own belly, he let the branch dip. and the gra.s.shoppers far enough back that the cooking went slowly, but as the scent of grease and cooked meat woke his own belly, he let the branch dip.

The thin, stringy meat tasted better than Ramon had remembered-it was salty and had a rich, earthy taste. When he had stripped the small corpses to their thin, yellow bones, he wiped his hands on his robe and stood up.

"Let's go. I have to find fresh water."

"The seared flesh is not sufficient?"

Ramon spat.

"I can live for weeks without food," he said. "No water, and I'll die in days."

It rose and let Ramon lead the way through the forest to a cold rus.h.i.+ng stream, foaming white as it broke over streambed rocks. This far north, the glaciers fed the streams and eventually the great river, the Rio Embudo, that pa.s.sed through Fiddler's Jump. As he squatted, cupping the numbing cold water to his lips, he imagined setting a message in a bottle to bob its way down to civilization. Trapped by monsters! Trapped by monsters!

Send help! He might as well plan to make a flock of flapjacks fly him back to Diegotown. Dreaming was no better than dreaming. He might as well plan to make a flock of flapjacks fly him back to Diegotown. Dreaming was no better than dreaming.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sat back.

"This is all then?" Maneck said. "Consume dead flesh and water.

Emit p.i.s.s. These are the channels that constrain the man?"

"Well, he'll have to take a dump sometimes. Like p.i.s.sing, sort of.

And he'll sleep."

"You will do these things," Maneck said.

Ramon stood, turning back toward the camp and the flying box.

The alien followed him.

"You can't just command those things," Ramon said. "It's not like I'm some kind of pinche pinche machine that you can press a b.u.t.ton and I fall asleep. Things come in their own time." machine that you can press a b.u.t.ton and I fall asleep. Things come in their own time."

"And the dumping?"

Ramon felt a surge of rage. The thing was an idiot; he was enslaved by a race of morons.

"It comes in its own time too," Ramon said.

"Then we will observe the time," Maneck said.

"Fine."

"While we observe, you will explain 'free.'"

Ramon paused, looking back over his shoulder. Light dappled the alien's swirling skin, an effect like camouflage.

"You will kill to be free," Maneck said. "What is 'free'?"

"Free is not with a f.u.c.king thing sticking into my neck," Ramon said. "Free is able to do what I want when I want without having to dance to anyone's f.u.c.king tune."

87 "Is this dance customary?"

"Christ!" Ramon yelled, wheeling on his captor. "Free is being your own G.o.dd.a.m.n man! Free is not answering to anybody for anything! Not your boss, not your woman, not the pinche pinche governor and his governor and his pinche pinche little army! A man who's free makes his own path where he wants to make it, and no one can stand in the way. No one! Are you too f.u.c.king stupid to understand that?" little army! A man who's free makes his own path where he wants to make it, and no one can stand in the way. No one! Are you too f.u.c.king stupid to understand that?"

Ramon was breathing hard as if he'd been running, his cheeks hot with blood. The hot orange eyes s.h.i.+fted over him. The sahael sahael pulsed once, and a shudder of fear ran through Ramon-the presentiment of pain that never came. pulsed once, and a shudder of fear ran through Ramon-the presentiment of pain that never came.

"Free is to be without constraint?"

"Yes," Ramon said, mincing the words as if he were speaking to a child he disliked. "Free is to be without constraint."

"And this is possible?" it asked.

Thoughts and memories flickered through Ramon's mind. Elena.

The times he'd had to sc.r.a.pe by without liquor in order to make the payment on his van. The police. The European.

"No," Ramon said. "It's not. But you aren't a real man if you don't try. Come on. You're holding me back. If you're going to keep this f.u.c.king thing in me, the least you can do is keep up when I walk."

At the camp, Ramon lapsed into silence, and the alien allowed him that. It seemed thoughtful and introspective itself, as far as one could judge that in a creature that looked the way it did. As the day s.h.i.+fted toward night, Ramon did indeed feel the call to relieve himself, and was humiliated as the alien looked on.

"How about dinner, eh?" Ramon said briskly afterward, trying to shake off his shame. "More food? It's too late to go on today anyway."

"You've just emptied your bowels," Maneck said. "Now you will fill them up again?"

"That's what it is to be alive," Ramon said. "Eating and s.h.i.+tting,they never stop until you're dead. Dead men don't s.h.i.+t, or eat, but living men have to, or they soon stop living." A thought struck him, and he glanced slyly at the alien. "The man man will have to eat too. The man you're chasing. You may as well learn how he'll do it. I'll show you how to fish." will have to eat too. The man you're chasing. You may as well learn how he'll do it. I'll show you how to fish."

"He will not set snares? As you did earlier?"

"He will," Ramon said. "But he'll set them in the water. Here. I'll show you."

Once the alien understood what Ramon needed, it cooperated.

They rigged a crude fis.h.i.+ng pole from a thin, dry limb snapped off a nearby iceroot and-after a tedious consultation with Maneck, who took a long time to understand what Ramon wanted-a length of pale, soft, malleable wire supplied by the alien. A stiffer sort of wire was shaped into a hook, and Ramon stamped along the sh.o.r.e, turning over rocks until he found a fat orange gret beetle to use for bait.

Maneck's snout twitched with sudden interest as Ramon impaled the insect.

Ramon led the alien to a likely-looking spot on the side of the stream and dropped the line. As he fished, Ramon stole glances at Maneck from time to time. The alien stood and watched the water.

For all the impatience it sometimes showed about getting on with their task, it seemed perfectly content to stand there, immobile and untiring, for as long as it might take. Halfway across the stream, Ramon glimpsed a flash of blue as a fish leaped from the water, but nothing took his bait. Never the most patient of men, he began to grow restive. To occupy the time, he began to whistle a silly little tune that Elena had taught him early in their time together, before the fighting had grown so bad. He could not remember the words that went with it, but that didn't matter. The song made him think of Elena, her long, dark hair and her quick hands, callused by endless hours in her little vegetable garden. She was a small, dark woman, very pretty, though her face was dotted with the craters left by some childhood disease. Sometimes Ramon would trace the marks with his 89 89 fingertips, unconsciously, and then Elena would look away. "Stop,"

she would say, "stop, you remind me of how ugly I am." And then, if he hadn't had too much to drink, he would say, "No, no, they're not so bad, you are very beautiful." But Elena would never believe him.

"What is that sound you are making?" Maneck demanded, shattering Ramon's reverie.

He frowned. "I was whistling, monster. A little song."

"'Whistling,'" the alien repeated. "Is this another language? I do not understand, although I hear a structure, an ordering. Explain the meaning of what you were saying."

"I wasn't saying saying anything," Ramon said."It was anything," Ramon said."It was music music. Your people, they don't have music?"

"Music," Maneck said. "Ah. Ordered sound. I comprehend. You derive pleasure from the sequencing of certain patterns. We don't have music, but it is an interesting mathematical function. To order that which is random enhances the flow. You may resume whistling music, man."

Ramon did not accept the alien's invitation. He pulled in his line and threw it in again. The first cast brought up something Ramon had never seen. That wasn't odd-there were new creatures caught in the nets at Diegotown and Swan's Neck every week, so little yet was known about So Paulo. This was a bloated, gray bottom dwell-er whose scales were dotted by white, vaguely pustulant nodules. It hissed at him as he pulled the hook free, and, with a sense of disgust, he threw it back into the water. It vanished with a plop.

"Why did you throw the food away?" Maneck asked.

"It was monstrous," Ramon said. "Like you."

He found another beetle, and they resumed their watch on the river as night slowly gathered around them. The sky above the forest canopy s.h.i.+fted toward the startling violet of the So Paulo sunset.

Auroras danced green and blue and gold. Watching them, Ramon felt for an instant the profound peace that the open wilderness always gave him. Even captive and enslaved, even with his flesh pierced bythe sahael, sahael, the immense, dancing sky was beautiful and a thing of comfort. the immense, dancing sky was beautiful and a thing of comfort.

A few minutes later, Ramon finally caught a fat, white bladefish with vivid scarlet fins. As he hauled it out of the water, he caught sight of Maneck's curiously watching face, and shook his head. "You don't have music and you don't eat real food," he mused. "I think you are a very sad sort of creature. What about s.e.x? Do you have that much, at least? Do you f.u.c.k, what about that? Are you a boy or a girl?"

"Boy," the alien said, "girl. These concepts do not apply to us.

s.e.xual reproduction is primitive and inefficient. We have transcended this."

"Too bad," Ramon said. "That's taking transcendence too far! Still, at least I suppose that means I don't have to worry about you sneaking into the lean-to with me tonight, eh?" He grinned at the look of incomprehension on the alien's face, and walked back to camp, Maneck pacing silently at his side. There, he quickly rebuilt the cook fire, and roasted the fish gently, briefly wis.h.i.+ng he had some garlic or habanero powder to rub on it. Still, the flesh was warm and suc-culent, and when he had eaten his fill, and smoked some strips of the fish and wrapped them in hierba hierba leaves for the next day, he sat back on his heels and yawned. He felt very full and oddly contented despite his perilous situation and inhuman companion. leaves for the next day, he sat back on his heels and yawned. He felt very full and oddly contented despite his perilous situation and inhuman companion.

There were no more questions, no more obscure demands. When at last his body began to feel heavy, he pulled himself into the rough lean-to that the policeman had made, cradled his head on his arms, and let himself drift, always half aware that the thing was nearby and watching.

Let it watch him. Every hour it spent here with him was another chance for the stranger who had been Ramon's pursuer and was now his prey. The man who the aliens hadn't made into a puppet. Who hadn't killed the European.

The one who was still free.

Chapter 8.

The next day dawned cold and clear. Ramon woke slowly, drifting into consciousness so gradually that he was never quite sure when he pa.s.sed the dividing line between sleep and wakefulness. Even when he had come fully awake, he remained very still, wrapped in his cloak, savoring the sounds and smells of morning. It was snug and warm within the folds of his alien garment, but the outside air was crisp and chilly on his face, and fragrant with the distinctive cin-namon-tang scent of the iceroot forest. Ramon could hear the rush and gurgle of the nearby stream, the whistling calls of small "birds"

up with the sun, and, off in the distance, the odd, booming cry of a descamisado descamisado returning to its lair in the trees after a long night of hunting. returning to its lair in the trees after a long night of hunting.

Although his body ached from sleeping on the hard, stony ground and his bladder was full enough to be painful, Ramon was reluctantto stir. It was peaceful lying there; peaceful and familiar. The discomforts were old friends. How many times had he woken alone in the forest like this, after a hard day of prospecting? Many, he thought.

Too many to count, too many to recall.

It was almost possible to pretend that this was just another morning like all those others, that nothing had changed, that it had all been a bad dream. He held that thought closely for a while, reluctant to release it. It was a lie, but it was a comforting lie, so he took his time in waking. He opened his eyes carefully, and found himself staring off through the opening of the lean-to toward the west. The tall iceroots seemed to have an azure glow playing about their tops, where dawn had broached them. Beyond them, to the far southwest, he saw a handful of bright stars, fading now as the sun came up: Fiddler's Bow, the distinctive northern constellation from which Fiddler's Jump took its name, since that was the southernmost point from which the Bow could be seen. He watched until the last bright star had been swallowed by the sky, then he stirred, and the illusion of safety and normality died as he felt the sahael sahael pull against the soft flesh of his throat. Ramon pushed himself reluctantly to a sitting position. Maneck still stood outside the lean-to, beads of dew on its swirling, oil-sheen skin. Its quills were stirring in the morning wind; seemingly, it hadn't moved since he had gone to sleep, standing still as a stone, watching him throughout the night. Ramon suppressed a s.h.i.+ver at the thought. pull against the soft flesh of his throat. Ramon pushed himself reluctantly to a sitting position. Maneck still stood outside the lean-to, beads of dew on its swirling, oil-sheen skin. Its quills were stirring in the morning wind; seemingly, it hadn't moved since he had gone to sleep, standing still as a stone, watching him throughout the night. Ramon suppressed a s.h.i.+ver at the thought.

As Ramon groaned and climbed to his feet, he saw that the alien's eyes were open, and said, "What, monster? You waiting for something?"

"Yes," it said. "You have returned to a functional state. Sleep is now complete?"

Ramon scratched his belly under the robe and yawned until he felt his jaw might dislocate. Twigs and sc.r.a.ps of leaf had found their way into the lean-to and knotted themselves in his hair. He combed them out with his fingers. Other than that, the shelter had been 93 93 solid-well-crafted, dry, and just the right size. The policeman had even left a layer of iceroot fronds under the bedding to reflect up the heat of his body in the night. He'd spent some time in the wild.

"The sleep is now complete?" the alien repeated.

"I heard you the first time," Ramon said. "Yes, the sleep is f.u.c.king complete. Your kind, they do not sleep either, eh?"

"Sleep is a dangerous state. It takes you outside the flow. It is an unnecessary cessation of function. The need for sleep is a flaw in your nature. Only inefficient creatures need to be unconscious half their lives."