Part 12 (2/2)
His face shut down almost into a pout and he had no answer. He flicked a look of hatred at me, then his eyes widened as they focused at something out to one side of me and out of range of my peripheral vision. His jaw dropped.
”That's an old one,” I said, ”Can't you--” And then my jaw dropped as I looked down stupidly at the s.h.i.+ver of my s.h.i.+rt sleeve and the arrow-head that hadcreased a fire along my forearm as it ripped the fabric.
”Well, h.e.l.l-a-mighty!” I spluttered. ”How come I'm fair game, coming and going?” I yanked the arrow out of my sleeve and whirled.
Maybe it was an Indian glaring at me, but it was the hairiest one I ever saw.
He was crouching behind the stiff crackle of some kind of animal hide that covered him diagonally from one shoulder to the opposite knee. I just had time to hit the sand before another arrow streaked past me and the almost inaudible twaaaaang of the bow was swallowed up in a howl from the other fellow. This arrow had creased him from mouth corner to ear and red was seeping from under his pressing hand. His eyes were staring, astonished and pained.
I meant to try for the bow arm with my .22 but, as I felt the shot jerk off against the ever-present tension, I knew with a sinking in my stomach, that the muzzle had been dead centered on the hide over the savage's hairy belly. I gulped and dropped my gun, waiting for him to fall. He stood and glared and made no move at all. I backed away, my hands groping behind me on each side until my car stopped me. ”Brother! I'm sure glad I'm such a lousy shot! I musta missed again!”
”With what?” He had that unsynchronized sound and lip motion, too. ”You're not armed.” He reached for another arrow from the quiver behind his shoulder and, with a smooth continuation of movement, pulled back until the stone point met the bent bow.
”Hey!” I protested. ”Why so bloodthirsty? Why's everyone so all-fired set on perforating me? I haven't been around long enough to do anything to anyone!”
”You're a stranger.” That was sufficient for the savage.
”I have to get you before you get me.” That was the other fellow.
”Well, I'm peaceable,” I said. ”And it won't kill either one of you to talk for a minute. Sit down!” I gestured toward the other fellow. ”There, under your vehicle, if that's what it is. Don't you wonder why it's hanging up there like that? ”
”And you,” I pointed at the savage. He pointed back with the arrow that edged back against the bowstring again. ”You can see we're not armed. Neither of us can reach you. Put that thing down for a while.” Slowly he lowered his arms.
”What's that?” he asked, gesturing with his chin towards my car.
”That?” I asked. ”That's my car. It really has four wheels, not three.” I was embarra.s.sed for it. ”I ride in it from here to there.” I hoped whatever it was that made it possible for us to understand each other, was feeding him some meaning to my words.
”Why not walk?” (Apparently the whatever was on duty!) ”A hundred miles?” I asked. ”Two hundred?”
”Why go so far” he asked.
”Well, because what I want is that far away.”
”How do you know?”
”Because I've been there before. Brother! You've sure got curiosity!” ”Why didn't you stay there then if what you want is there?”
”Well,” I scratched the bridge of my nose. ”I want lots of things. Not all of them are here nor there. They're all over the place.”
”Food's food,” said the savage, ”and females are females.”
”There are other things to want,” I said.
”Shelter from cold and from beasts too big to kill-” He dismissed them with a shrug.
”There are other things,” I insisted. ”Life isn't just-just-there are other things.”
”To live by?”
”To live by.” I was positive in the face of his skepticism. ”Even if you can't touch them or show them-” My face was getting hot. I wasn't at ease with this type of discussion-nor this type of audience.
The savage opened his mouth, paused, looked puzzled and then thoughtful. One of his hands went to his shoulder and his mouth closed.
I turned to look at the other fellow, feeling lines of tension twist up from both my ears to some point above and out as my head moved.
”If I had my ZAPT-” he snarled.
”Why are you so set on killing?” I asked. ”No one's a danger to you at the moment.”
”Everyone's a danger to me every moment!” He fingered his smashed weapon. ”You cinder or get cindered-any Tech knows that from Cindergarten on up.” His face crumpled a little, sickly weary. ”That 'Cindergarten' is supposed to be a joke-at least it used to be, a joke. But the law now is that everyone is armed from first public appearance. They say a third of the kindergartners never make it through their first year. A real live ZAPT is so much fun when you first get it.”
”You mean everyone you know is as bloodthirsty as you are? That you kill because someone's in front of your ZAPT thing? There must be dead people all over the place! Wall-to-wall corpses!”
”If I had an operational 'ZAPT thing,”' he burlesqued my phrase savagely, his face harshly distorted, ”you'd be cindered by now for your obscene speech!” He was white with anger and disgust.
”Kill and dead and blood and corpse?” I questioned, laying out before him again the words that had stung him. ”Obscenities? But you apparently kill as casually as you breathe-”
”There are acceptable terms,” he insisted. ”Only the unTech have such limited vocabularies that they have to resort to such language-” I shook my head, wonderingly, and decided to change the subject.
”I want to know,” I started.
”What good would it do?” asked the savage.”Why bother?” asked the other fellow.
”I want to know,” I insisted, ”how we got here. I was going to town-”
”I was trying to find refuge,” said the other fellow, his face bending again, ”I get so tired of trying to stay alive-”
”I was hunting,” said the savage. ”This water hole-” We all looked at the quiet water in silence, then- ”But I still want to know,” I persisted. ”How come we landed here together? We don't belong together. What's happened to us?” The two looked at me warily, and then at each other. ”And I want to know why your gun couldn't singe me.”
The other fellow's eyes fell to his battered weapon and he muttered sullenly.
”And why my gun couldn't hurt you.” I nodded at the savage. ”But it blasted his ZAPT.” I waved my chin at the other fellow. ”And why your arrows nearly got both of us.” The savage and I exchanged looks.
Before any of us could open his mouth there came the twisting and the dragging again. The three of us were tumbled together and shaken thoroughly together. I grabbed at memory as I hunched myself trying to avoid flying elbows and heels.
Mom's voice was calling to me out of the darkness-”If you kids don't stop fussing, I'll put you all in a sack and shake you up and see which one comes out first!”
We all three came out together. There I was, face down in the edge of the water hole across the back of the savage's legs, holding him down effectively and murderously, the other fellow lying across the small of my back, holding me down. I humped and sent the other fellow sprawling. I grabbed the savage out of the water. He sputtered and spewed and gasped deeply a couple of times between spouting water as I thumped him on the back. Then he scuttled away warily and paused within hiding distance of a goodsized boulder.
Then I saw! There were two more! About my age! They were standing patiently, waiting to be noticed. They looked to me like telephone linemen, or maybe highway surveyors, except that their edges s.h.i.+mmered and crinkled-at least to me. I wondered what they looked like to the savage and the other fellow.
”Okay now?” My ears heard the easy colloquialism, but my eyes saw mouth-movings that didn't equate. We all three nodded. Well! We did share something in common! We could all indicate no!
”Catch you, too?” I half-asked, half-stated. ”Whatever it is”
”No. We came,” said the one whose edges crinkled faintly cerise, ”to uncatch you.”
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