Chapter Sixteen
Authorities on Omega agree that a Hunted man experiences a change ofcharacter. If he were able to look upon the Hunt as an abstract problem,he might arrive at certain more or less valid conclusions. But thetypical Hunted, no matter how great his intelligence, cannot divorceemotion from reasoning. After all, _he_ is being hunted. He becomespanic-stricken. Safety seems to lie in distance and depth. He goes asfar from home as possible; he goes deep into the ground along thesubterranean maze of sewers and conduits. He chooses darkness instead oflight, empty places in preference to crowded ones.
This behavior is well known to experienced Hunters. Quite naturally,they look first in the dark, empty places, in the undergroundpassageways, in deserted stores and buildings. Here they find and flushthe Hunted with inexorable precision.
Barrent had thought about this. He had discarded his first instinct,which was to hide in the intricate Tetrahyde cloaca. Instead, an hourbefore dawn, he went directly to the large, brightly lighted buildingthat housed the Ministry of Games.
When the corridors seemed to be deserted, he entered quickly, read thedirectory, and climbed the stairs to the third floor. He passed a dozenoffice doors, and finally stopped at the one marked NORINS JAY,SUB-MINISTER OF GAMES. He listened for a moment, then opened the doorand stepped in.
There was nothing wrong with old Jay's reflexes. Before Barrent wasthrough the doorway, the old man had spotted the crimson hunt-marks onhis face. Jay opened a drawer and reached into it.
Barrent had no desire to kill the old man. He flung the government-issueneedlebeam at Jay, and caught him full on the forehead. Jay staggeredback against the wall, then collapsed to the floor.
Bending over him, Barrent found that his pulse was strong. He bound andgagged the sub-minister, and pushed him out of sight under his desk.Hunting through the drawers, he found a CONFERENCE: DO NOT DISTURB sign.He hung this outside the door, and locked it. With his own needlebeamdrawn, he sat down behind the desk and awaited events.
Dawn came, and a watery sun rose over Omega. From the window, Barrentcould see the streets filled with people. There was a hectic carnivalatmosphere in the city, and the noise of the holiday celebration waspunctuated by the occasional hiss of a beamer or the flat explosion of aprojectile weapon.
By noon, Barrent was still undetected. He looked through windows, andfound that he had access to the roof. He was glad to have an exit, justas Jay had suggested.
By mid-afternoon, Jay had recovered consciousness. After struggling withhis bonds for a while, he lay quietly under the desk.
Just before evening, someone knocked at the door. "Minister Jay, may Icome in?"
"Not at the moment," Barrent said, in what he hoped was a fair imitationof Jay's voice.
"I thought you'd be interested in the statistics of the Hunt," the mansaid. "So far, Citizens have killed seventy-three Hunteds, with eighteenleft to go. That's quite an improvement over last year."
"Yes, it is," Barrent said.
"The percentage who hid in the sewer system was larger this year. A fewtried to bluff it out by staying in their homes. We're tracking down therest in the usual places."
"Excellent," said Barrent.
"None have made the break so far," the man said. "Strange that Huntedsrarely think of it. But of course, it saves us from having to use themachines."
Barrent wondered what the man was talking about. The break? Where wasthere to break to? And how would machines be used?
"We're already selecting alternates for the Games," the man added. "I'dlike to have your approval of the list."
"Use your own judgment," Barrent said.
"Yes, sir," the man said. In a moment, Barrent heard his footstepsmoving down the hall. He decided that the man had become suspicious. Theconversation had lasted too long, he should have broken it off earlier.Perhaps he should move to a different office.
Before he could do anything, there was a heavy pounding at the door.
"Yes?"
"Citizen's Search Committee," a bass voice answered. "Kindly open thedoor. We have reason to believe that a Hunted is hiding in there."
"Nonsense," Barrent said. "You can't come in. This is a governmentoffice."
"We can," the bass voice said. "No room, office, or building is closedto a Citizen on Hunt Day. Are you opening up?"
Barrent had already moved to the window. He opened it, and heard behindhim the sound of men hammering at the door. He fired through the doortwice to give them something to think about; then he climbed out throughthe window.
* * * * *
The rooftops of Tetrahyde, Barrent saw at once, looked like a perfectplace for a Hunted; therefore they were the last place a Hunted shouldbe. The maze of closely connected roofs, chimneys, and spires seemedmade to order for a chase; but men were already on the roofs. Theyshouted when they saw him.
Barrent broke into a sprint. Hunters were behind him, and others wereclosing in from the sides. He leaped a five-foot gap between buildings,managed to hold his balance on a steeply pitched roof, and scrambledaround the side.
Panic gave him speed. He was leaving the Hunters behind. If he couldkeep up the pace for another ten minutes, he would have a substantiallead. He might be able to leave the roofs and find a better place forconcealment.
Another five-foot gap between buildings came up. Barrent leaped itwithout hesitation.
He landed well. But his right foot went completely through rottedshingles, burying itself to the hip. He braced himself and pulled,trying to extricate his leg, but he couldn't get a purchase on thesteep, crumbling roof.
"There he is!"
Barrent wrenched at the shingles with both hands. The Hunters werealmost within needlebeam distance. By the time he got his leg out, hewould be an easy target.
He had ripped a three-foot hole in the roof by the time the Huntersappeared on the next building. Barrent pulled his leg free; then, seeingno alternative, he jumped into the hole.
For a second he was in the air; then he landed feet-first on a tablewhich collapsed under him, spilling him to the floor. He got up and sawthat he was in a Hadji-class living room. An old woman sat in a rockingchair less than three feet away. Her jaw was slack with terror; she kepton rocking automatically.
Barrent heard the Hunters crossing to the roof. He went through thekitchen and out the back door, under a tangle of clotheslines andthrough a small hedge. Someone fired at him from a second-story window.Looking up, he saw a young boy trying to aim a heavy heat beamer. Hisfather had probably forbidden him to hunt in the streets.
Barrent turned into a street, and sprinted until he reached an alley. Itlooked familiar. He realized that he was in the Mutant Quarter, not farfrom Myla's house.
He could hear the cries of the Hunters behind him. He reached Myla'shouse, and found the door unlocked.
* * * * *
They were all together--the one-eyed man, the bald old woman, and Myla.They showed no surprise at his entrance.
"So they picked you in the Lottery," the old man said. "Well, it's whatwe expected."
Barrent asked, "Did Myla skren it in the water?"
"There was no need to," the old man said. "It was quite predictable,considering the sort of person you are. Bold but not ruthless. That'syour trouble, Barrent."
The old man had dropped the obligatory form of address for a PrivilegedCitizen; and that, under the circumstances, was predictable, too.
"I've seen it happen year after year," the old man said. "You'd besurprised how many promising young men like yourself end up in thisroom, out of breath, holding a needlebeam as though it weighed a tonwith Hunters three minutes behind them. They expect us to help them, butmutants like to stay out of trouble."
"Shut up, Dem," the old woman said.
"I guess we have to help you," Dem said. "Myla's decided on it forreasons of her own." He grinned sardonically. "Her mother and I told hershe was wrong, but she insisted. And since she's t
he only one of us whocan skren, we must let her have her own way."
Myla said, "Even with us helping you, there's very little chance thatyou'll live through the Hunt."
"If I'm killed," Barrent said, "how will your prediction come true?Remember, you saw me looking at my own corpse, and it was in shinyfragments."
"I remember," Myla said. "But your death won't affect the prediction. Ifit doesn't happen to you in this lifetime, it will simply catch up toyou in a different incarnation."
Barrent was not comforted. He asked, "What should I do?"
The old man handed him an armful of rags. "Put these on, and I'll go towork on your face. You, my friend, are going to become a mutant."
* * * * *
In a short time, Barrent was back on the street. He was dressed in rags.Beneath them he was holding his needlebeam, and in his free hand was abegging cup. The old man had worked lavishly with a pinkish-yellowplastic. Barrent's face was now monstrously swollen at the forehead, andhis nose was flat and spread out almost to the cheekbones. The shape ofhis face had been altered, and the livid hunt-marks were hidden.
A detachment of Hunters raced past, barely giving him a glance. Barrentbegan to feel more hopeful. He had gained valuable time. The last lightof Omega's watery sun was disappearing below the horizon. Night wouldgive him additional opportunities, and with any luck he could elude theHunters until dawn. After that were the Games, of course; but Barrentwasn't planning on taking part in them. If his disguise was good enoughto protect him from an entire hunting city, there was no reason why heshould be captured for the Games.
Perhaps, after the holiday was over, he could appear again in Omegansociety. Quite possibly if he managed to survive the Hunt and altogetherescape the Games, he would be especially rewarded. Such a presumptuousand successful breaking of the law would have to be rewarded....
He saw another group of Hunters coming toward him. There were five inthe group, and with them was Tem Rend, looking somber and proud in hisnew Assassin's uniform.
"You!" one of the Hunters shouted. "Have you seen a Quarry pass thisway?"
"No, Citizen," Barrent said, bowing his head respectfully, hisneedlebeam ready under his rags.
"Don't believe him," a man said. "These damned mutants never tell us athing."
"Come on, we'll find him," another man said. The group moved away, butTem Rend stayed behind.
"You sure you haven't seen one of the Hunted go by here?" Rend asked.
"Positive, Citizen," Barrent said, wondering if Rend had recognized him.He didn't want to kill him; in fact, he wasn't sure he could, for Rend'sreflexes were uncannily fast. Right now, Rend's needlebeam was hangingloosely from his hand, while Barrent's was already aimed. Thatsplit-second advantage might cancel out Rend's superior speed andaccuracy. But if it came to conclusions, Barrent thought, it wouldprobably be a tie; in which case, they would more than likely kill eachother.
"Well," Rend said, "if you _do_ see any of the Hunted, tell them not todisguise themselves as mutants."
"Why not?"
"That trick never works for long," Rend said evenly. "It gives a manabout an hour's grace. Then the informers spot him. Now if _I_ werebeing hunted, I might use mutant's disguise. But I wouldn't just sit ona curbstone with it. I'd make a break out of Tetrahyde."
"You would?"
"Most certainly. A few Hunteds every year escape into the mountains. Theofficials won't talk about it, of course, and most citizens don't know.But the Assassin's Guild keeps complete records of every trick, device,and escape ever used. It's part of our business."
"That's very interesting," Barrent said. He knew that Rend had seenthrough his disguise. Tem was being a good neighbor--though a badassassin.
"Of course," Rend said, "it isn't easy to get out of the city. And oncea man's out, that doesn't mean he's clear. There are Hunter patrols towatch out for, and even worse than that--"
Rend stopped abruptly. A group of Hunters were coming toward them. Rendnodded pleasantly and walked off.
After the Hunters had passed, Barrent got up and started walking. Rendhad given him good advice. Of course some men would escape from thecity. Life in Omega's barren mountains would be extremely difficult; butany difficulty was better than death.
If he were able to get by the city gate, he would have to watch for thehunting patrols. And Tem had mentioned something worse. Barrentwondered what that was. Special mountain-trained Hunters, perhaps?Omega's unstable climate? Deadly flora and fauna? He wished Rend hadbeen able to finish the sentence.
By nightfall he had reached the South Gate. Bent painfully over, hehobbled toward the guard detachment that blocked his way out.
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