Now as long as he could recall Dikar had seen the brown bodies of the Girls as they busied themselves with their tasks or tried to outdo the Boys in the Games, and so it was strange that tonight these small glimpses should set a pulse throbbing in his temples, and stir his breast with a not unpleasant pain.
It was to the Girl whose hair was brown that his eyes clung, to her knee and the soft swell of her throat, and the pale oval of her face.
As he looked out at her, he seemed to feel a small hand in his, to hear a very little voice asking, “Will you take care of me? Promise?” For this was Marilee, the little Girl of his dream. Dikar had forgotten his promise, “I'll take care of you always and always,” but now he remembered it.
Remembering, he wanted to hold out his arms to Marilee, wanted to call her to him. He almost did, and for fear that he might, looking at her, not longer be able to hold her name in his throat, he tore his eyes from her and turned them to the Fire. Little flames, blue and yellow and red, licked along the sides of a single log that lay across a great heap of orange glowing embers. That log will not last much longer, Dikar though. I should wake the Girls and tell them to put more on.
Then he thought, no. Let them sleep. I'll do it myself, and with the thought his look went to the pile of logs at the base of the oak.
...To the place where the pile ought to be! There was only one split log there.
Queer, Dikar thought. I sent up enough for the night from where we were cutting them in the woods yesterday—A hand slid past the trunk of the oak, out of the blackness behind! The hand took hold of the one log that was left of the pile and drew it back into the blackness.
A muscle twitched in Dikar's cheek, under his beard.
"Oh,” Bessalton exclaimed, the black-haired Girl. “Marilee! We've been sleepin’ an’ the Fire's almost out. Quick."
They were running to the Fire, and past it to the oak, and they were looking, dismayed at the base of the oak. “There isn't any,” Marilee said, her small face puckered in puzzlement. “You must have put on the last."
"I did no such thing,” Bessalton denied. “It was you. You were the last one to put wood on. Remember?"
"Yes,” Marilee said slowly. “Yes, I was the last. But there was more here then. I'm sure there was."
"Looks like it,” the black-haired Girl came back, “Don't it? If I did something like that—"
"Oh what's the use of scrapping about it? We've got to get more up from the place where the Boys were cutting, before the Fire burns out."
"We?"
"I'll do it, Bessalton. I know where they were,” Marilee said, and before Dikar could move or cry out, she had gone past the oak and the night had swallowed her. The night out of which a hand had slid to draw away the logs from the base of the oak!
Dikar sprang to his cot, snatched up his bow and quiver of arrows, was back to the door and out through it. Bessalton stared at the Fire; she neither saw nor heard Dikar flitting by. Then the damp, fragrant dark of the woods was about him, and the cool softness of its carpet of leaves was under his noiseless feet, and he was a shadow slipping through the forest.
All the Bunch was taught to move in the woods with the silence of its creatures, but Dikar's ears, trained to keenness, caught the barely audible sound of Marilee's progress ahead of him, the flick of underbrush against her legs.
He did not call to warn her, because he needed to know who had lured her into the forest, and why. This was a thing that never before had been done by one of the Bunch and Dikar must find out why it was being done.
Moonlight filtered through the foliage overhead and flecked the night with silver. A small beast scuttered away from beneath Dikar's feet. Marilee was well away from the Houses now. She was almost to the place where the Boys had been cutting—
"Oh!” he heard her exclaim, and then there was another voice ahead there. “Hello, Marilee.” Tomball's voice. “I've been waitin’ for you."
Dikar froze, as motionless as the tree trunks about him.
"You've been waitin'—” Marilee was puzzled. “Why? Why should you be here, waitin’ for me?"
"I wanted to see you alone."
"But—but why do you want to see me alone?"
"Marilee.” Tomball's voice was curiously thick. “Do you like me?"
"Of course I like you. I like all the Boys."
"Not that way. Do you like me—like this?” Dikar heard the sound of flesh, and he sprang into the little clearing ahead, and Tomball's hands had hold of Marilee's arms, and he was pulling her to him.
"Stop!” Dikar said, low-voiced, and somehow there was an arrow hooked in the string of his bow, and the string was tight, and the arrow was pointed at Tomball's back. The bow was long almost as Dikar was tall, and the arrow sharp-pointed with stone. Loosed, it could go clear through a deer—or a Boy. “Let go of her."
Tomball turned on Dikar. Crouched knee-deep in fern there was something about him more animal than Boy. The curling thickness of his lips; the feral look of his black eyes, and the way his neck was tense and corded.
"You—” Tomball grunted. “You again!"
"Me,” Dikar said, heavy-tongued with anger. “The Boss. Tomball, you have left your cot before day. You have laid hands on a Girl. For breakin’ these Must-Nots you are subject to seven days in the punishment cave, with only water an’ dried corn to eat. What's your excuse?"
Tomball licked his lips, and straightened. “Nothin',” he said. “Because you won't give me the punishment."
"Won't I? An’ why not?"
"Because I'm not here, that's why. Because I'm in my cot, asleep. Halross will say so at the Council, an’ Carlberger."
"They will lie?” Dikar's brow wrinkled. He could not understand. “They will lie, at a Council?"
"Sure, they will. What are you goin to do about it?"
"But Marilee here will say different, an’ I."
"Course you will,” Tomball grinned. “Why shouldn't you, the Boss of the Bunch an’ the Boss of the Girls? Why shouldn't you say that I left my cot, an’ that I laid hands on her, when seven days in the punishment cave on water an’ dried corn will leave me so weak you'll be sure to lick me, an’ stay Boss? Will the Bunch believe you, Dikar, when I remind ‘em of that, or will they believe me an’ Halross an’ Carlberger?"
Dikar felt sick. That any should lie at a Council, that any should talk as he was hearing Tomball talk, was a new and dreadful thing. “Tomball,” he cried. “You're foolin'. You wouldn't really say those things."
"Wouldn't I?” Tomball grinned, licking his lips. “Just try me. You're licked, Dikar, an’ you know it."
Dikar knew it, and he knew that a terrible thing had come among them, and he could not think how to fight it. He was licked—
"Dikar!” Marilee's fingers touched his arm. “Dikar. Hold him here with your arrow while I run an’ call the Bunch. When they see Tomball here in the woods, he an’ his pals cannot say that he is in his cot, asleep.” She started away.
"Wait!” Tomball's command halted Marilee. “You can call the Bunch, Marilee,” he said. “But when they get here I'll tell ‘em that Dikar drew his arrow on me an’ forced me to come here. An’ Halross will say that, wakin’ from sleep in his cot next mine, he saw this, an’ that Dikar said he would kill him if he did not keep quiet."
Marilee and Dikar stared at Tomball.
"You can't win,” Tomball sneered. “I'm too smart for you, see. An’ tomorrow you'll find out I'm too strong for you, Dikar. An’ here's somethin’ else for you to remember, Marilee. When I'm Boss, you better like me the way I want you to like me!"
He laughed, then, and turning his back on Dikar's arrow, and swaggered away; they heard his laugh coming out of the dark woods.
"What did he mean?” Marilee whispered, coming close to Dikar. “He said, ‘When I'm Boss.’ What did he mean, Dikar?"
Dikar wanted to put his arms around her.
"He meant that we're gunna fight who should be Boss, Marilee. In the mornin, right a
fter Brekfes, you will call a Full Council of the Bunch, an’ Tomball an’ I will fight who shall be Boss."
Marilee's eyes were upturned to his eyes, her lips were moist and red. “You must win, Dikar,” she whispered. “You heard what he said. You must win."
The wanting to take her in his arms, the wanting to hold her close to him, was a great ache in Dikar's arms and in his breast, and a weakness in his legs.
"I heard him, Marilee,” he said, deep-throated. “I will win."
And then Dikar turned and ran off through the woods, but he looked back over his shoulder at Marilee once and saw the way she stood looking after him, mantled in her brown hair, and he saw the look in her face.
CHAPTER V: THE OLD ONES
When Dikar got back to the Boys’ House and slipped inside, all was dark there, and quiet, and Tomball was in his cot. Dikar put down his bow and arrow, and took off his apron. He lay down again, and pulled up the blanket of rabbit's fur.
He lay staring up at the black roof of the house, trembling a little. It seemed to him that he saw Tomball's face there, black-stubbled and small-eyed and sneering. And then it was Marilee's face he saw, the red lips moist, the brown eyes holding his, telling something her lips could not. And looking into Marilee's eyes, Dikar's eyes closed and the nothingness of sleep received him ... And out of sleep's nothingness formed a sky that flared with blue light, and with red, and was streaked with bright yellow that shimmered and faded; and the sky was filled with rolling, endless thunder. Against that terrible sky loomed monstrous black bulks, huge and ominous, hills that overhung a road and a big truck in which Dick Carr was riding.
In the truck kids were jammed so tight they could not lie down, and just could move a very little. Dick was in a corner so that his back was jammed against the iron sides of the truck, and Marilee was jammed against his side, and her head was on Dick's shoulder, and she slept.
Most of the kids were asleep, in spite of the terrible lights in the sky and the awful thunder. But the old man who was driving the truck wasn't asleep, nor the old woman who sat next to him. Ahead of them on the road were a lot of trucks, and behind them were a lot more trucks, but Dick could tell this only by the noise they made, because none of the trucks had any lights.
Dick knew some of the trucks were loaded high with boxes and boxes of things, but most of them were jammed tight with kids like this one.
"Tom,” Dick heard the old woman ask. “Do you think we'll get through?"
"I don't know, Helen,” the old man answered. “Only God knows. So you had better pray to God to take us through."
"I can't, Tom. I can't pray any more. I'm all prayed out. God cannot hear our prayers. He has forgotten us, Tom. He has turned His face from us."
"Pray, Helen. Not for you or for me, but for the children in our charge. Pray to God's Son. It was God's Son who once said, ‘Suffer ye the little children to come unto Me.’”
"All right, Tom. I'll try."
They didn't say anything more. The truck bounced along, and the red and blue lights flared in the sky, and yellow streaked it, and thunder rolled.
Once the road got steep, climbing up into the sky to what looked like the Jumping-Off Place, and up there against the sky Dick saw things that stuck up out of the top of the black hill. They were just a Bunch of broken poles, black against the blazing sky, but Dick knew that once they had been trees. And to one side there was a chimney sticking up, and Dick knew that was all that was left of a house that the trees used to shade.
Dick started to get sleepy. His eyes closed. The old woman woke him up, yelling something.
"Tom!” she yelled. “Tom! Turn into this side road. Quick!"
Dick's head banged against the truck side, and the kids fell against him, and Marilee woke up, screaming, “Dikar! Dikar!” Dick grabbed hold of her, telling her it was all right, and then the truck wasn't going any longer, and Dick could bear the other trucks going past, somewhere behind.
"You caught me off guard, Helen, and I did it,” the old man said. “But why?"
"I don't know, Tom,” she answered, talking slow. “I saw the side road ahead and something told me we must turn off into it. It was like a voice in my ear. No. It was more like a voice in my brain."
"You're all worked up, Helen. You're excited.” Tom's back moved, and there was a noise of grinding metal. “Watch out behind. I'm backing up to the highway. As soon as you see a clear space you tell me, so that I can back out and get into line again. If we lose the others we won't know where to—” And then there was a white light in the sky a light bright as the sun floating down out of the sky.
And there was a new sound in the sky, like a bee, like a giant bee, and it became a roar. An enormous black shape came down under the light, and there was a rattling noise, like a lot of Boys were running sticks along a lot of picket fences, but louder, and there were screams and crashes and the rattling noise kept on.
The rattling noise cut off, and the roar faded and became a bee-buzz again and the bee-buzz died away in the sky. There were no more crashes, and no more screams. There was only the rolling thunder overhead, that never stopped.
Old Tom got down from his seat, and went away into the dark. The old woman sat very still, and all the kids sat very still, and nobody moved. After awhile the old man was back, and he was climbing up again to the truck driver's seat.
"Well?” Helen asked, so low Dick could hardly hear her.
"None,” Tom said. “Not one of them all. We're the only ones left. If we hadn't turned in here—” He didn't finish.
"I guess,” Helen said. “I guess God is still listening, up there above the sound of the guns.” And then she said, “Where do we go from here?"
"There's a smashed signpost back there, where this road turns off. One of the boards on it reads, ‘To Johnson's Quarry.’ Do you remember, Helen, my heading a committee once that tried to stop the Johnson Granite Company from cutting down a Mountain? They were defacing the landscape, you recall, and we wanted to preserve the beauties of Nature for posterity."
He laughed. It wasn't pretty, that laugh. “We failed. Recently I heard that they had blasted away almost the entire base of the Mountain, leaving only a narrow ramp by which their trucks could reach their camp at the top. There are probably quarters for the laborers up there, perhaps some supplies. The Mountain, as I remember, is thickly wooded and there's a possibility we may be safely enough concealed there, at least for a time."
"If only we can get through to it."
"We can try. This is a State Park we are in. There are woods almost all the way, and nothing to attract enemy patrols.” The truck started running again.
(Dikar's dream blurred.)
The thunder faded out of it, and the dark, and there was sunlight, with green trees, and a wide cleared space with two long houses each side of it, with cots and a warless house at one end in which there were big stoves, and a lot of tables. There were a Bunch of little kids and there were the two Old Ones.
The Old Ones made the kids work. Helen made the Girls make beds and cook and things like that. Tom made the Boys go down the road up which the truck came that first night and hammer deep holes into the hill of rock on top of which the road climbed up to where the trees were. When Tom thought the holes were deep enough he would put fat white sticks into them that he got out of a big red box they had found where the road started to climb up, and little, silvery things on top of the sticks.
When it would begin to get dark, they would all eat, and then the Old Ones would make the Bunch all sit around and they would tell them things.
They called this a Council. At the first Council the two Old Ones told the Bunch a lot of things they should do, and they should not do, and these were the Rules. The Old Ones said Marilee should be Boss of the Girls, and they said Dick should be Boss of the Boys, and of the whole Bunch.
Every morning one of the Boys would climb up high in a tree and watch all day if anybody would come out of the woods on the other side of
the fields down there, where Tom and the Boys were working.
The Boys took turns doing this. One day (and this is where Dikar's dream got clear again) Dikar was sitting on top of the tree. The Boys had got through making the holes yesterday, and they weren't down there any more. They were in the front of the house where they slept, and Tom was teaching them how to make bows and arrows. The Girls were in front of their house and Helen was teaching them how to make baskets out of twigs from the bushes in the woods.
Dick was looking at the black smoke, way far off in the sky, that had been there all the time since they came here. He thought about a new Rule the Old Ones had made at Council last night, a Rule they said was most important of all. “You must not go out of the woods,” the Rule said. “You must not go near the edge of the Drop."
Wondering why the Old Ones had made that rule, Dick looked down at the edge of the Drop, and at the place where the road climbed up and over it. His eyes went along the road, and across the fields, and he saw someone come out of the woods across there.
The someone looked very little, way down there, but Dick could see he had a kind of dark-green uniform on, and that his face was yellow. Then another one and another one came out of the woods. These were in green too, but their faces were black, and they had guns. All of a sudden there were a lot of them.
Dick yelled down, “Coo-eee! Coo-eee!” and when Tom looked up at him Dick pointed down at the men in the green uniforms and held up his spread fingers and wagged them to show Tom how many there were.
Tom started running into the woods, and then he came out on the other side of them, where the road came up over the edge of the Drop, and he was running down the road. And then Helen was running after him, and Tom saw her. Tom yelled something and she stopped, but she didn't go back.
Tom had a little hammer in his hand.
Dick heard a crack, like a twig breaking, and he looked down and down, and across the fields, and he saw that the men in green had their guns up to their shoulders, and he saw a little white puff of smoke floating away from one of them. Then he saw white puffs come out of all the guns.
Dark Yesterday [The Classic Tomorrow Trilogy] Page 3