by Jerry
Earth. He burned the word resolutely into his memory, and kneeded at his memory for more; but nothing came except vague images that slipped like minnows from his grasp. Earth was an ache in the throat, a smarting in his eyes; a sense of time and distance so vast that the name itself was a miracle of memory. A copy of a copy of a copy so painfully transferred—how many thousands of times?—that he had small faith in its accuracy.
The tiger turned sinuously and slid into the jungle, and now a new memory stabbed into the man. He groaned at his own thick-wittedness. The drama wasn’t complete without a woman. And the tiger, with his direct uncomplicated mind, always remembered.
The man knew that she would be activated at another place, and that to get there he must cross a river, but for the moment he could not remember the direction. He moaned and pounded at his head with his fist; then, in a sudden fury, clambered to where he could see the sky and screamed futile hatred at Them.
When he was calmer again, he remembered to wonder whether They existed. He could be insane. Yet, he had a dim memory of a time when he’d understood more; had known with certainty who They were and when They’d captured him.
He fingered various scars on his body, stared down at the long slanting ones across his chest. He thought that must have happened at the most recent awakening; at least, the memory was very clear. The tiger had reached him before he got to the trees. He remembered screaming out his terror and rage, clawing at the tiger until his fingernails were all torn off, using his own teeth, even. Then, being snatched away into oblivion just as the claws slashed across his chest.
Whoever They were, they managed to keep their specimens healthy; the wounds were all thoroughly healed, and he felt young and strong now that the initial weakness had passed. He had no idea how long the periods of sleep might be; but unless his memory were completely unreliable, there had been hundreds, or thousands, of them. He wondered how old he was, in actual time elapsed. Or, for that matter, in total waking time.
HE began to tremble, remembering how it was to live with one of the women (of which They apparently had quite a supply). He wondered if he dared hope that this time it would be The One. The One hadn’t been with him for many Activations now, but he remembered her clearly because she was to the others as this nameless planet’s sun was to its small distant moons. He and she had added up to so much more than two; had rediscovered so many miracles, including that of language. Somehow she, far more than any of the others, made him think like a man again instead of an animal.
They seemed, he mused, to consider the women expendable (unlike himself). There was one agonized memory from a few times back, when he’d found himself trapped on a dead-end ledge while below him the woman—young, helpless, barely curving out of girlhood—had been torn to bits by a pack of dog-like things. He’d tried to die then (as he had on other occasions), hurling himself off the ledge to plummet toward the rocks below; but They’d plucked him away in mid-fall, the girl’s last dying sounds echoing awfully in his mind as oblivion took him.
Anxiously, he climbed higher in the tree and stared around. Beyond the clearing on the far side, in the direction where the tiger had disappeared, bare rocky peaks thrust up above the jungle. They were not far, but he knew that wasn’t the way.
From somewhere in that direction came an animal scream of agony, along with the tiger’s roar. He’s found himself a meal, the man thought. At least, he hasn’t started for the woman yet.
He looked for the bough which would take him within swinging distance of the next tree, and let his muscles take him where they would. Gradually he grew surer, and no longer wandered aimlessly, but moved in a specific direction.
Though hungry and thirsty, and not yet fully recovered from the sleep, he forced himself on, feeling that he had to go a certain distance before stopping. The sun was overhead when he reached what he’d been dimly recalling—an edge of the jungle, where the great trees and their undergrowth were choked out by deep thick grass, yellowly billowing across a wide valley with snow-topped mountains beyond. Excitement made him tremble again.
He knew, though, that he must not go blindly. He stopped and let his aching body recover, munching meanwhile on a juicy red fruit which he picked confidently. Carefully now, making no noise, he sought out the familiar tall tree and made his way toward it and up its straight trunk.
Behind him lay the top of the jungle, swarming with birds and insects whose din his mind automatically filtered out. He sniffed for smells other than that of the jungle and the musty-sweet aroma of the grass. If the tiger was coming this way, he wasn’t close enough to smell.
He could hear and smell the river, and see where a gap in the grass marked its undulating way. He could smell various animals in the grass, and identify them by their odors and by the way the grass-tops responded to their movements. I’m keen, he thought; With an animal’s keenness. But the things that made me human keep slipping away.
IT WAS time to think of a weapon, and his eyes turned to the edge of the thicket below him. He spotted the kind of plant he wanted; a dumpish thing that sent long spiny shoots out radially from its compact center; but near it squatted an ugly gray animal with powerful tentacles. He knew the creature. It would be slow-moving but very strong, and he must not let it get a hold upon him.
He looked around carefully, then started down.
Before he approached the plant, he looked around for a rock of the right size and shape for chopping, as the spine he wanted would be very tough even at the base. Then he moved up quietly on the opposite side of the plant from the tentacled animal.
He chose a spine, grasped it with one hand and bent it as far as he could, and got in several good chops before the beast on the other side heard him and sent deceptively-smooth-moving limbs around toward him. The lumpish body followed.
Impatiently, he gave ground, trying to lure the creature far enough away to lose it. After a few yards it declined to follow, and he had to tease it by throwing clods until, hissing angrily, it lunged after him.
He had to make four trips back to the plant, each interrupted by a return of the tenacious creature, before he had the spine chopped through enough to break it off. He eluded the reaching tentacles by inches, outdistanced the creature and lost it in the underbrush.
Things had come out of the grass to investigate the noise, but none that he really need fear. He had to go into that grass, for he remembered, now, the usual strategy. The tiger had to go far upstream to cross, where rapids kept the river creatures away, then come back down the other side. If one could cross here, hours would be gained.
He’d done it before, more than once, and he looked around for any of the several means he remembered.
There were no downed trees suitable for a raft, nor did he feel that creating a diversion upstream or down was a good gamble. He went back to the trees and climbed a few feet so he could see around.
A little way downstream, big gray lizzard-like heads poked above the grass. That was the tactic he would use, then.
He judged there was a good-sized herd of the great reptiles grazing there, though only a few at a time poked heads up to stare around. He knew that, though they were armored and armed to resist anything on this planet, somewhere they had been preyed upon, by what fearsome beast he could not imagine. They were unaggressive and preferred fleeing to fighting.
He made another cautious survey, then climbed down again and hurried into the grass.
IT WAS well over his head, the stalks as thick as his smallest finger, with rough-edged leaves that would have sliced a skin less tanned and leathery than his own. He went carefully at first, breaking down as few stalks as possible so as not to leave a visible trail. He did not go in a straight line, but took time to double back and create loops, crossing his own trail at odd angles to confuse any not-too-intelligent pursuer-by-scent. The few creatures he encountered paid him the compliment of avoidance.
He began pulling up grass, twisting and tying it into a crude rope. When he
knew by the grunts and chewing sounds that he was close to the herd, he had a fair length of rope looped over his shoulders.
He picked a spot a little ahead of the herd and moved in quietly until he was close to the river. He gathered together a number of grass-stalks and tied one end of the rope to them, securely. Then he moved back in an arc around the herd, paying out rope behind him until he ran out. There wasn’t as much as he would have liked, but it might do.
He found some rocks and tossed a few farther on, beyond the herd. He could tell by the silence that the herd stopped grazing and lifted wary heads to stare around. One of them was so close he could hear the raspy breath and the rustling of its scaly hide.
He tossed another rock, and the herd started to move, not fast, enough, though, to show they were concerned.
At what he thought was the right moment, he pulled hard on the rope, making a swath of audible motion ahead of the herd.
They stopped, and now he heard a few frightened grumbles. He knew the language of these creatures, had studied their ways and the slow working of their minds. While they hesitated, listening, he opened his mouth and screamed out the terror-sound.
They bolted directly away from him, toward the river as he’d planned. It was like earthquake and thunder, punctuated with their shrill cries. He ran after them through the avenues of trampled grass, and caught up with the laggers just as the first of the herd hit the water.
He was in the open now, on a wide firm mud-bank that slanted down to the water. A quick glance in either direction showed a variety of animals fleeing upstream or down.
There were young with the reptiles, pale-skinned, with the scaly protection not yet formed. He’d watched the hatching at some time or other, knew that the young stayed with the herd as a community responsibility. Now, as the adults lumbered into the water, the young clambered aboard the wide backs, clinging with pink claws to the crevassed hides.
The man caught one of the last adults and swung aboard behind a cow-sized infant.
THE reptiles swam with their heads high, swinging them in a ponderous survey of the river. A few bent their necks to stare uncertainly at the man, but he lay still and they didn’t bother him.
The creatures that lived in the river knew better than to attack the armed and armored adults, but halfway across a great eellike thing lunged from the water and made a try for the infant in front of the man. As the sawteeth clamped upon a dangling leg, the infant cried out piteously, clinging desperately with its other three feet.
On impulse, the man threw himself forward and jabbed at the river-thing with his spear, hitting it near one eye. It let go of its prey, with a hoarse sound. It slid back into the water, then came lunging out again toward the man. He jumped away as far as he could without falling off the reptile’s back.
But other adults had seen the attacker now, and were converging toward it. One grappled below the waterline with powerful clawed feet, then rolled, hoisting more of the eel-like thing’s length from the water. The predator flopped and twisted madly, making the hoarse sound. Huge reptile heads darted toward it, and it died in shreds. For a while, the water convulsed as other things ate the remains.
The herd reached the far bank with no more trouble. The man jumped off and trotted out of reach. For some reason, he felt angry with himself for his display of compassion in helping the infant reptile. Finally, he realized it was because They were watching.
THERE was another grassland to be crossed on this side of the river; a wide one, dotted with marshes and clumps of trees, combed by fingers of the mountains reaching down close to the river. It was dangerous to travel hastily in the grass, but he dared not waste time, since the tiger always showed the consistent aim of finding and killing him and the woman as fast as possible. He did not know whether this was just the continuation of an old enmity, or whether They somehow planted the urge in the cat’s brain.
He got into the grass and crept near the reptiles, who were just beginning to explore away from the river. Their grazing would blot out his trail. Then he started inland, detouring around a marsh he remembered, and doubling back once or twice to make sure nothing followed him. Then he paused to listen.
The grass was busy with creatures moving, according to their natures, toward or away from the commotion at the river. That was good, in that it lent some shield to his own movement. Once, something evidently smelled him, for a stealthy movement a few yards away stopped abruptly. He gripped his spear as his own nose identified the creature, but after a moment it detoured around him and went on.
He passed a grove of thorny bushes, then angled to his left. Soon the ground began to slant upward, then steepened until the grass became sparse. Before he was out of the cover he paused once again to scout and to confuse his trail, then left the grass and climbed quickly to the top of the ridge.
This long tentacle of land was weathered smooth, and a carpet of tiny plants had taken root. He ran easily for a while, climbing steadily, then stopped to look around. Ahead, the mountains loomed harsh and bare, the edge of the vast snowfield a blinding white line from this angle. On either side other ridges snaked down toward the river. Back there, seeming not far in the clear air, he could see the reptile herd, secure in their collective might again, lifting leisure heads to munch grass and stare around. He wondered if their brains were equipped to identify him as the same being who’d hitched a ride with them. In an impulsive gesture of affection, he waved an arm before going on.
To his left as he climbed, a snug valley between the ridges was watered by a fair-sized stream that wound through it. There were shrubs and flowering short grasses, and, along the stream, a thicket of mediumsized trees. He knew this valley well, for it had been his brief Eden in some previous awakenings when he’d been able to overcome the tiger and the other dangers and join the woman. Once, it had lasted for nearly a full season before They had grown bored (he presumed) with that particular Activation and ended it without warning.
He kept an eye on the opposite ridge, for the tiger would probably mount it if he came from up-river. He saw a few small animals that showed by their lack of nervousness that nothing threatening was in sight from that ridge either. He was very conscious that he’d lost more time than usual in getting his wits back, and very afraid the tiger was ahead of him.
The ridge became rockier, rising sharply toward one of the mountain ramparts. It was time to go down into the valley. He paused and caught his breath, relishing the feel of strength and stamina now that his body was recovered from the drugged sleep. Then he descended the slope.
IT WAS warm in the valley; with a smoky-musky-sweet smell of autumn that awoke some pang of nostalgia in his submemory. He drank from a tiny spring in the rocks, and found some nuts and berries. Later, if things went right, there would be small game or fish to cook over a fire on a safe ledge. Now there wasn’t time.
His senses told him where a band of small herbivores had ranged along the slope, and where three or four swift, sixlegged predators had stalked them. He found remains of two kills from the previous night, which was good because the predators wouldn’t be hungry and would avoid him. He read where a pair of big furry creatures, strong and wily, had fought off a dog-pack after their fresh-born cubs. That had been two days ago, and both defenders and routed attackers had gone on down the valley.
Finally, he found what he dreaded. A sign of the tiger.
He went fast now, letting his lungs fight for air, choosing a way that left the least danger of ambush. The valley narrowed and became a series of tiered levels, with cliffs to be climbed along the most direct route. For a good climber, it was the fastest way. The vegetation dwindled and he crossed bare rock. At last he came to the place.
It was an oval space, perhaps three hundred yards deep, with a fairly level color; surrounded on most of its perimeter by steep mountain walls, with a sheer drop-off at the downhill end. A bare natural amphitheater (or a contrived one, he didn’t know which). Down a cleft at the far end tumbled the stre
am, from the snows out of sight above. Bulges and convolutions, ledges and caves were all around the walls, He thought he knew them all. He’d been here often enough.
He eased himself up and crouched at the edge of the dropoff, alert for the faintest scrape of claw on rock. He thought he smelled tiger, but heard nothing. He sniffed again, and fear squeezed at his insides. He smelled blood.
He moved silently to the wall on his right and edged along it. He rounded the first bulge and found nothing. He went along a concavity and peered around another bulge, and saw the dark stains on the rocky floor.
His throat tight with anxiety, he studied the pattern of the stains. There were several spots the size of his hand, scattered enough to indicate a struggle, and a trail of small splashes leading straight toward the wall. They disappeared beyond the next bulge.
It looked as if the tiger had caught her—still groggy, perhaps, from the awakening—and dragged her away.
Disappointment and rage filled him. He gripped his spear so hard his fingers ached, and ran without caution to the bulge in the wall.
His eyes flashed along the trail of blood-droplets and he gasped with new hope. The trail led to the wall, and up it.
He could read, now, actually two trails. The second turned aside at the wall and paralleled it farther up into the amphitheater. It appeared—though he hardly dared hope—that she had not only escaped, but wounded the tiger, which had gone to some cave to hide.
HE looked up the wall, remembering there was a ledge there. He was so excited he couldn’t make a sound at first, but finally managed, “Hough!”