Part 98 (2/2)

'As soon as Amaziga returns. Are your pistols fully loaded?'

'Yes.'

'Good. I fear they will need to be.'

The roar of angry lions came from outside and Shannow moved from the chair, his right- hand pistol pointing towards the door. 'It is only Amaziga,' said Lucas, but the Jerusalem Man was already moving out on to the porch. There he saw the bright-red four-wheeled carriage swing from the dirt track to draw up outside the house in a trail of dust and noise.

The noise subsided, then died.

Amaziga pushed open a side door and stepped out. 'Help me with these boxes, Shannow!'

she called, moving to the rear of the vehicle and opening another door. This one swung out and up, and Shannow watched her lean inside. Roistering the pistol, he walked towards her. A strange and unpleasant smell came from the vehicle, acrid and poisonous. It made his nostrils itch.

Amaziga was pulling a large box towards her and Shannow leaned in to help. 'Be careful.

It's heavy,' she said. Shannow lifted it and turned towards the house, happy to be clear of the fumes from the vehicle. Once inside, he laid the box on the table and waited for the black woman.

The voice of Lucas sounded: 'It may interest you to know, Mr Shannow, that your reflexes are five point seven per cent higher than normal.'

'What?'

'The speed at which you drew the pistol shows that you are faster than the average man,'

explained Lucas.

Amaziga entered and heaved a second box alongside the first. 'There's one more,' she told Shannow, who left reluctantly to fetch it. This was lighter and, with no room on the table- top, he set it down alongside the table.

'Did you sleep well?' she asked him. He nodded. She was wearing a soft, long-sleeved s.h.i.+rt with no collar. It was dark blue and a portrait of a leaping black man had been painted on the chest.

'Is that Sam?' he asked.

Amaziga laughed, the sound good-humoured. 'No, it's a basketball player. A sportsman in this world.' She laughed again. 'I'll explain it later,' she said, 'But now let's unpack the shopping.' Glancing at a dial on her wrist, she turned to Lucas. 'Six and a half hours, yes?'

'An adequate approximation,' responded the machine.

Amaziga pulled a small folding knife from her pocket and opened the blade. Swiftly she ran it along the top of the first box, then placed it on the table. Opening the flaps, she lifted clear a squat black weapon, shaped, to Shannow's eyes at least, like the letter T. More weapons followed, two automatic pistols and twelve clips of ammunition. Discarding the empty box she opened the second, drawing from it a short rifle with a pistol grip and two barrels. This is for you, Shannow,' she said. 'I think you'll like it.' Shannow didn't, but he said nothing as she laid boxes of sh.e.l.ls alongside the gun.

Leaving her to unpack the other box, he walked to the door and stared out over the landscape. The sun was high, the temperature soaring. Heat s.h.i.+mmers were rising from the front of the vehicle. To the left he saw a movement from within a giant cactus.

Narrowing his eyes he stared at the hole in the central stem. A tiny buff-coloured owl appeared, launched into the air and flew in a tight circle around the cactus, before disappearing back into the hole. Shannow guessed the bird to be around six inches in height, with a wingspan of around fourteen inches. He had never seen an owl so small.

Amaziga moved out alongside him, handing Shannow the ligly rifle with the pistol grip.

'It's a shotgun, and it takes six sh.e.l.ls,' she said. 'It is operated by a pump under the barrels.

Try it out on that cactus.'

'There's a nest there,' said Shannow.

'I don't see a nest.'

'A small owl, in that hole. Let's move further out.' Shannow strode away. The desert sun was riding high now, the temperature searing. Some way to the right he saw what could have been a small lake, but was more likely to be a mirage. He pointed it out to Amaziga.

There's nothing there,' she said. 'During the last century scores of settlers died here, taking their tired oxen down into the valley, expecting water. It's a harsh country.'

'It is one of the greenest deserts I've seen,' observed Shannow.

'Most of the plants here can live for up to-five years without rainfall. Now, how about that saguaro? See any nests?'

Shannow ignored the sarcasm and hefted the weapon, aiming from the hip at a small barrel cactus close by. He pulled the trigger and the cactus exploded; the sound of the shot hung in the air for several seconds. 'It's grotesque,' said the Jersualem Man. 'It would tear a man's arm off.'

'I would have thought you would have loved that,' put in Amaziga.

'You have never understood me, woman, and you never will.'

The words were not spoken with anger, but Amaziga reacted as if struck. 'I understand you well enough!' she stormed. 'And I'll not debate my thoughts with the likes of you.'

Swinging, she aimed her own squat weapon at a saguaro and pulled the trigger. A thunderous wall of sound erupted from the gun, and Shannow was peppered with bright bra.s.s sh.e.l.l-cases. The saguaro leaned drunkenly to one side, its thick body showing gaping holes half-way up the central stem, then it fell to the desert floor.

Shannow turned and headed back for the house. He heard Amaziga ram another clip home, and a second burst followed the first. Inside, he dropped the shotgun to the table.

'What did she shoot?' asked the machine.

'A tall cactus.'

'A saguaro,' the machine told him. 'How many arms did it have?'

Two.'

'It takes around eighty years before a saguaro grows an arm. And less than a second to destroy it.'

'Is that regret?' Shannow asked.

'It is an observation,' answered the machine. The bird you saw is called an Elf Owl; they are quite common here. The desert is home to many interesting birds. The man, Lucas, used to spend many long hours studying them. His favourite was the Gilded Flicker. It probably made the nest hole the Elf Owl now inhabits.'

Shannow said nothing, but his eyes strayed to the shotgun. It was an obscene weapon.

'You will need it,' said Lucas.

'You read minds?'

'Of course. My clairvoyant abilities are what caused Amaziga to create me. The Devourers are powerful creatures. Only a shot to the heart with a powerful rifle or pistol will stop them. The skulls are thick and will resist your weapons. What are they, thirty-eights?'

'Yes.'

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