Balook

by Piers Anthony

  Thor heard something. It was now midafternoon, and he happened to be sitting in shadow. Balook was on down the line, out of sight for the moment. Thor froze, listening and watching. Something was coming through the field beyond the trees bordering the power line corridor.

  It was a man—and he carried a rifle.

  Suddenly Thor's heart was pounding. Nobody carried a rifle or any gun openly, unless authorized—and only the police and military personnel were authorized. There was only one good reason the police would be walking out here.

  They were after Balook!

  It had been sheer luck that Balook had run so far along the highway before diverging into the fields and forest, because no footprints showed there. Thor had done his best to eliminate traces, once he realized the danger they represented. So the police didn't know exactly where to start looking, and were combing the area. This was slow and wasteful and probably spread thin—but before long they would surely discover the few tracks Balook had left, and then they would orient and close in on the rhino himself. That would be the end.

  Thor waited until the rifleman dropped out of sight in a gully. Then he ran for cover behind the power line brush. It was like a thin strip of forest between the fences; rabbits scooted out of sight as Thor ran, and birds fluttered in the line of trees. But it was too thin to hide Balook, especially considering the noise the rhino made, tearing branches off high trunks and crunching them up. Even the rhino's tumultuous noises of digestion could be heard at some distance, and when he broke wind the sound could carry distressingly far.

  Breathless, Thor ran up to Balook. "Trouble!" he gasped. "We've got to get out of here!"

  Balook cocked his head, dangling a mouthful of brush. Leaves, twigs, wood, bark—here was the proof that it was all much the same to this monster appetite! But it had to be stifled now. "Balook, this is a matter of life and death. Your life and death! We've got to move out in a hurry!"

  Balook, of course, could not understand the words. But he caught the urgency of the tone, and lowered his head so that Thor could mount. Thor scrambled over the mouthful of brush, for the rhino, like other animals, was unable to conduct two conscious operations simultaneously, and chewing stopped when attention was distracted. They stepped over the fence opposite the side the rifleman was approaching, and moved out at cruising speed. Thor hoped they would get away unnoticed.

  If they were spotted, Balook could probably outrun the police vehicles, because he could maintain velocity cross-country while they would be confined largely to roads. Unless there was a copter—but copters were scarce, and it normally took days to requisition one.

  A car shot across the field ahead. "Oh, no!" Thor groaned. "That's a floater!"

  The floaters traveled on a cushion of air. They floated over the terrain at respectable velocity, requiring no pavement. Rocks and ridges hardly affected them, and they could traverse level water too.

  Thor pondered feverishly. How could they avoid this pursuit? The floater's main weakness was thick forest, because it required space to pass between the trees; close-set saplings could balk it. But here there was no suitable forest. Another problem was hilly country. The floater lost power when too steeply tilted, because the air cushion depended on proper balance. But there were no mountains in the immediate vicinity, or even any good hills. Still, if they could lead it through a gully—

  "Head for the stream, Balook!" Thor cried. But it was the pressure of his knees, not his words, that made the command clear. Balook swerved, and soon was tramping down toward the little stream they had drunk from.

  The car followed. There was no doubt it was after them; it reoriented unerringly when their route changed. It did not enter the gully, but moved along the edge. Its driver knew better than to charge that steep incline. Too bad.

  Thor saw something glint from the car window. A gun! They could shoot Balook down from a distance! The gully was too small to get the rhino out of range; the car would keep following the rim.

  They had to put the car out of commission. Thor knew only one way. A floater could not function when tilted—or turned over. Like a turtle, it was helpless on its back.

  If Balook could kick it over...

  But someone might be hurt in the car, or even killed. Could he afford to risk that?

  He saw the glint of the gun again. It was taking aim! If he didn't stop it, Balook could be killed!

  "Charge!" he yelled, urging Balook up the slope, directly toward the car.

  This was another game Balook understood. He turned and charged. Stones and dirt spewed out of the bank as his giant hooves pounded through.

  There was a shot. Balook jumped, and Thor knew the animal had been hit. But no ordinary bullet could bring down a creature this size. "Keep going, Balook! Knock that car over!"

  Balook closed on the car. Now the vehicle dodged, trying to avoid him—and too late Thor realized his mistake. Balook's freshest memory of cars was the one that had struck Blooky. Now a car was attacking Balook himself; he had had experience with firearms, and knew the significance of the noise from the car and the strike of the bullet. There was murder in the rhino's pain-tormented mind.

  Balook reared, lifting his forefeet. "No!" Thor cried, knowing that what happened would be his fault.

  But the car zipped aside, and the terrible hooves missed. The ground shook, and a fallen branch sailed into the air, levered up by the force of the strike. Balook's great mass made his attack slow, and the driver knew how to maneuver.

  There were no more shots. Evidently there was only one man in the car, and he had to concentrate on his driving now, and could not get oriented for another attack. But the moment Balook let the car go, that gun would speak again.

  How could they get out of this? They could afford neither to smash the car nor to flee it.

  Balook, maddened by pain and memory, had his own notion. He reared again—and again the car dodged out of the way. This time a hoof caught part of a fallen, rotten trunk, and there was a spray of water and vapor. Balook had power, yes—but that approach was hopeless. The rhino could not catch the vehicle.

  "Your nose, Balook!" Thor cried. "Lift it over!" But again his words were useless. How could he make the rhino understand? Balook's neck was so strong he could readily overturn the car, and it would be an unexpected move that might work.

  But Balook was unable either to understand or to reason it out for himself. The survival of his species had been based on size, not intelligence. He reared again—and again the car dodged.

  The wrong way. It dropped into the gully, tilted, and lost power. By accident Balook had done the right thing! He had disabled the car without touching it.

  "Run!" Thor cried, and now Balook ran. This command was in his repertoire. He had seen the car fall and die; vengeance had been achieved. Soon they left the police behind.

  Thor guided Balook along a road, so as to hide his hoofprints. But there were two things wrong with this strategy. There was traffic on this road, both pedal and electric, making concealment impossible—and Balook was bleeding from the gunshot wound. Huge drops of bright red blood splattered on the pavement, leaving an obvious trail.

  So it had to be cross-country again—and how were they to escape? It was now late afternoon; if they could avoid direct pursuit until dark, maybe...

  But Balook slowed, limping. The wound had seemed minor in the throes of battle with the floater, but now that excitement was over, and much blood was being lost.

  They stopped in a patch of forest, and Thor looked at the wound. It was in Balook's huge belly. Blood streamed from it. A man would have been dead already, but Balook's mass was so much greater that it was less serious for him. Obviously it had been no BB gun in that car; more like an elephant gun.

  "God, Balook, that's bad!" Thor exclaimed, appalled. "There's no telling how much damage it's done inside. We've got to stop the blood!"

  He ripped a handful of leaves from a bush and approached Balook. But the injury was well out of his reach
. Balook could lie down, but Thor didn't want to ask him to do that. For one thing, it might aggravate the wound; for another, it would interfere with the animal's eating. After the long trek and run, Balook should be ravenous.

  Assuming that the wound had not messed up his gut and his digestion. If that was the case—

  Thor shook off the grim thought. He found a rock and several pieces of fallen wood. He piled them up, so that he could stand half a meter higher. This brought him just within range. He mopped at the wound.

  The leaves came away caked with blood. A huge partial clot fell into his hand, and the bleeding increased.

  Horrified, Thor stared at the red mass. "I'm making it worse!" he said. He had seen blood before, but never in this quantity. He felt nauseated and dizzy. This was Balook's life that was pouring out!

  Thor steeled himself. This was no time for faintheartedness! He had to keep his wits about him, so that he could help Balook.

  First, he had to stop meddling with the wound. There was no way he could bandage it, and it might succeed in clotting itself closed if he just let it alone. Second, he had to think this thing through and decide on a course of action.

  Item: Balook was eating well. That meant that the intestinal system had not been badly damaged; his fear about that had been premature. Balook also moved readily, so the muscles were all right.

  Item: there was no hole opposite the wound, so the bullet had not passed all the way through Balook's body. The metal was lodged somewhere inside. That wasn't good, but it might after all be that the bullet was small, and had made a much larger and more ragged puncture because it was moving slowly. Balook was so massive that penetration might have been slight, relatively. So maybe this amounted to a flesh wound: painful, gory, but not serious.

  Thor felt better. Now he had things in better proportion. Balook could lose several liters of blood, and it would be no worse than a few grams for a man. No immediate worry.

  But suppose there were infection, or metal poisoning, from the embedded bullet?

  Thor struggled with the notion for a moment, then dismissed it. There was nothing he could do except hope.

  As night came, Thor mounted Balook again and hung on, so that he would not become separated from the animal. Balook might feed the better part of the night, and this was good, because he needed plenty of nutrition to make up for the loss of blood and to restore his vitality. But he might move several kilometers in the course of his browsing, and the police could catch up at any time. Thor had to be with him when that happened, for Thor now represented Balook's intelligence. Thor might know what to do in an emergency when Balook didn't.

  So he laid his head against Balook's flexing neck, and hooked both hands into the loose skin of the shoulders. He could sleep this way, so long as Balook moved slowly. He had done it before, years ago, when Balook had been lonely. Balook himself would take care that he didn't shake Thor loose.

  He nodded off, his left ear against the base of Balook's great neck. In this position he could hear the sounds of the animal's feeding: the crunching of the huge teeth transmitted along the bones of the column of the neck, the big masses of masticated foliage being swallowed, the more distant rumblings and gurglings of the digestive process. It was a comforting cacophony; it meant that all systems were functioning.

  Thor dreamed of Barbara Hartford. Only she wasn't called that any more. She was Barbara Hartford Nemmen, in a lovely bridal gown, smiling, saying "C'mon, let's swim!"

  He woke, shaking with the realization: he loved her. He wanted to marry her. Perhaps he always had, since their first meeting, when he had seen how well she understood about Balook. He just hadn't been able to admit it, so had cut himself off from her as well as from Balook. He found it hard, now, to imagine how he could have been guilty of such colossal folly.

  But as his head cleared, the passion faded. They were too young, really, to marry—and Barb had shown no such inclination. She worked with him because she had to, to get the rhinos moved to the Eastern Project site. She was civil because it was better than being bitter. But love? Why should he fool himself!

  He wished there were some way to make it up to her, so that they could start again, all-the-way fresh, so that romance would be possible instead of mere friendship. Then, abruptly, his lost notion of the prior night returned. The freak zoo—

  Balook stumbled. Alarmed, Thor called out. "Hey, Balook—you okay?" It was still dark, so Thor couldn't see the wound. But now he realized that the animal had stopped eating, and was moving slowly. The skin of the neck felt hot against Thor's face.

  He lifted his head, alarmed. The infection, the loss of blood—they had gotten to Balook!

  No, maybe the rhino was just tired, ready to lie down and sleep. Of course his body was hot; it was always hot in late day and early evening, because of his mechanism of temperature modulation. It was practically impossible to tell when he was running an abnormal fever, because he so often ran normal fevers. Still, an infection-fever could not be ruled out. It might not be detectable at skin-surface, but could be ravaging the vital inner organs.

  Balook often slept standing, but this time it might be better lying down. "Sure, Balook; I'll get off!"

  He scrambled along the back and slid down the tail and stood aside. Balook kneeled, then lay. That was all, thank God!

  Thor walked around to Balook's head, patted his nose, and leaned against the big jaw. He settled down, braced against the monstrous head, one arm half encircling an ear, providing what comfort he could. In that position they slept the rest of the night.

  THE MORNING WAS pleasant, but what it revealed was not. A silent blimp was hovering hardly two kilometers away, and there could be no doubt about its mission. Thor stood at the edge of the forest and watched it slowly move back and forth.

  The police had to know Balook was in here, and the blimp was there to make sure he could not escape unobserved. Since fields surrounded these trees, that ploy would work. The patch of forest was smaller than he had supposed yesterday evening; its broadest width was no more than a kilometer.

  Thor went back to inspect Balook—and found to his dismay that the rhino had not yet gotten to his feet.

  "Balook, are you all right?" Stupid question; a better one would be "How bad is it?"

  At Thor's urging, Balook struggled to raise himself, sank down again, lifted, and finally made it to his feet. The wound came into sight. It seemed to have scabbed over somewhat; there was some oozing from it, but the flow of blood had stopped.

  Yet Balook was staggering like a newborn calf, hardly able to keep his balance. Thor stepped back, afraid the rhino would accidentally step on him. What was wrong?

  He knew what was wrong, when he unblocked his resistive mind. Infection!

  No—if that were the case, Balook should have a raging fever, and he didn't. Thor had slept against him all night, and verified that in the morning the fur was warm only where Thor's own body had rested against it. If there was any fever, it was slight. Balook had cooled overnight in his normal fashion.

  Then what? With no fever, and no more bleeding, and several hours' rest—

  Bleeding? Thor struck the heel of his hand against his forehead. This too he had thought of before, and too eagerly dismissed. There was bleeding—but not where it showed! Balook could be hemorrhaging internally, filling his bowel with blood, liters of it! Now he was out on his feet, weak from that tremendous night's loss. A loss that might still be occurring.

  Then Thor heard something ominous. It was the baying of a dog.

  The police were on the trail now, and in minutes they would be here. This time there would be no escape, for Balook was too weak to run.

  And even if he could run, and got away—how could Balook survive? Thor was no doctor; he could not do a thing about the hemorrhaging. Balook would die anyway. There was no way out.

  Balook had heard the dog too. Now that sound was augmented by human voices, and several motors. All getting louder.

  Balook
tried to run. "Wait for me!" Thor cried, lifting his arms. Balook halted, swinging his head down toward him—and lost his balance.

  Down he came, falling as only twelve tons could fall. Thor barely jumped clear in time to avoid being crushed by the tremendous body. But his horror was for the damage he knew that fall was doing to Balook's internal organs. Even an elephant could be killed by a fall of only one or two meters, and Balook was twice that size. His guts could burst.

  Thor looked at the fallen giant, appalled. Balook moved his head weakly. He was in pain, now; perhaps he had been in pain all along, but not shown it. That pain had now progressed too far to be ignored—and there was nothing Thor could do.

  How could all this have come about, because of one brat with a firecracker? Mixed with Thor's grief for Balook was sheer, blinding rage at that capering boy. At that moment he hoped the boy was dead.

  There was the crashing of brush as men tramped through the forest, closing in. It had not been much of a chase, after all, and there had been only one possible outcome. Balook would die—whether captive or free.

  Suddenly Thor's rage overcame him. They had no right to do this! Balook was innocent; he should not suffer for what heartless ignorant people had done!

  The men were coming with guns. He could tell where they were by the clumsy sounds, though they did not yet see him or Balook. Thor could overcome one of them, get his gun, drive them off...

  "I'll take care of you, Balook!" he said. "Trust me!"

  Balook's head dropped slowly to the ground, reassured. Despite the disparity of their sizes, Thor had always been the one to protect Balook in the human world.