Bridgers 3_The Voice of Reason

by Stan C. Smith

  Infinity began to stir. She opened and closed her fingers, feeling for the venomcrook. A growl came from deep in her chest.

  Desmond kneeled beside her. “Gretchen, Arty, help me restrain her.”

  Desmond and Gretchen each took one of her arms while Arty held her feet.

  “If she’s going to start yelling again, you may want to move her even farther from the mongrels,” a woman said. “They have been killing anyone who speaks. We may have lost as many as ninety.”

  Desmond looked up at the woman. “Ninety?”

  Infinity groaned and tried pulling her hand from Desmond’s grip.

  There was no time now for questions. Desmond scanned the area. About seventy yards farther from the mongrel bubble was a slope that led into a creek-bed ravine. Perhaps it would help dampen the sound.

  He and Gretchen pulled Infinity to a sitting position. Desmond got behind her and grasped her under her armpits, locking his hands together over her chest. “You two grab her feet.”

  Infinity started struggling as they lifted her. Together they began carrying her to the ravine, trying to hold her thrashing limbs.

  “Where is it?” Infinity cried. “Goddammit, give it to me!”

  They made their way down the slope. At the steep, six-foot ravine, Desmond backed over the edge, still holding Infinity’s chest. Arty and Gretchen lowered her legs over and then let go.

  Infinity kicked wildly, trying to turn on Desmond. “I’ll kill you! Where is it? Give it to me!”

  He held her as tight as he could as Arty and Gretchen slid down into the ravine, and together they pinned her to the ground.

  “Infinity, listen to me,” Desmond said, trying to keep his tone soft. “We have a job to do, and you need to snap out of it. Do you understand?”

  She continued to fight, nearly pulling from his grip.

  “Stop fighting,” Gretchen said. “You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

  Infinity stopped moving, although her muscles remained contracted like knotted cables. Eyes wide, she said, “Desmond! Please. Just give it to me, okay? I really need it.”

  “If you have any more, it might kill you, Infinity.”

  Her eyes were full of incredulity, as if she couldn’t believe he’d willingly do something so cruel. Sweat was running into her eyes, but she didn’t try to blink it away. “I have to have it, Desmond. You don’t understand. I have to!”

  He looked at her without responding, wondering if she was right. Would she actually die without the venomcrook? He had no idea, but it seemed she was more likely to die if she kept dosing herself with whatever was in the damn thing. He needed to know for sure. “Abel!” he shouted. “I need your help.”

  Infinity’s muscles relaxed slightly. “Does Abel have it? Is he bringing it?”

  Desmond didn’t reply.

  Abel appeared at the ravine’s crest. “I’ve been told that affairs here have gone belly-up. Seems the mongrels have had enough of your herd’s yapping. It caused quite the fracas, it seems. Can’t say I’m sorry I missed it. Bound to get worse soon.”

  “Desmond, tell him to give it to me,” Infinity said. She was staring at Abel, who was still holding the extra venomcrook. “Please. Make him give it to me.”

  “She says she needs the venomcrook,” Desmond said to Abel. “What will happen if we don’t give it to her?”

  Abel gazed down from above. The blackness of his eyes made it hard to tell who he was looking at. “Rapture does different mischief to different folks.”

  “Will it kill her if she has too much?”

  “Ain’t no doubt of that,” the creature said. “Of course, it might also do her in to have such a powerful hankering for it. Hard to say. I heard you conversing with that feral musk monkey, Resilience. Said he’d taken one too many pricks from the venomcrook, did he not? And yet, there he stood, just as alive as you or me.”

  Desmond turned to Infinity.

  Her desperate gaze flicked from Abel to meet his eyes.

  “You’re too important to me, Infinity. I’m not ready to lose you. We can’t let you have—”

  She spat in his face. “You son of a bitch! Make him give it to me or I’ll kill you!” She grunted, thrashing with all her strength, trying to break free.

  Desmond had to straddle her arm to keep from losing control of it. Gretchen and Arty had to do the same, Gretchen on her other arm, Arty on her legs.

  “Goddammit, let me up!”

  Desmond saw a flash of green out of the corner of his eye. Abel was now at his side, and before Desmond could process what was happening, the creature hit Infinity’s belly with one of the venomcrooks.

  “What are you doing?” Desmond cried.

  Abel ignored him as Infinity stopped thrashing. She turned and looked at Desmond, no longer wide-eyed with fury. She blinked, and then her face went completely slack, eyes half open.

  Desmond stared at her. “Infinity?”

  “Considering recent calamitous affairs ’round here,” said Abel, “that woman’s yammering ain’t helping matters.”

  “What’d you do to her?”

  Abel held out one of the venomcrooks. “Rarely have I a need for other means of motivation besides rapture or pain. Hope I done it right.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I reckon she’ll rest a spell. Not too long though. Didn’t want to overdo it. I recommend you restrain her before she wakes. She’s a dad-blamed wildcat if ever I saw one.”

  Desmond realized he wasn’t breathing and sucked in some air. “You mean she’s only sleeping?” He moved his hand to her wrist. He felt a strong pulse.

  “She ain’t dead, if that’s what’s concerning you,” Abel said. “She’ll wake soon enough. I got tasks to attend to, and they ain’t ones I’m licking my lips over. If you don’t see me again, it’s because the mongrels have rendered me into the varmints from whence I came.” The musk monkey scrambled up the side of the ravine and then turned to look back. “You and your herd, you’re the most interesting state of affairs old Abel’s been a witness to. Come tomorrow, I hope you’re still you.” The creature then turned and left.

  Desmond, Gretchen, and Arty turned and stared at each other.

  “We need a better way to restrain her,” Arty said, nodding down at Infinity, “or she’s going to kill someone.”

  5:12 PM

  Desmond sighed. He dropped the grass fibers he’d been weaving and reached for Infinity’s neck to check her pulse. Still good and strong. It had been hours. Why wasn’t she waking up?

  For perhaps the hundredth time, he checked the woven ropes he’d tied around her ankles. Then he went behind the small tree she was tied to and checked the ropes on her wrists.

  Arty, Gretchen, and four other refugees had volunteered to hold Infinity down in case she awoke while Desmond worked on the ropes. Infinity had taught him to weave surprisingly strong rope from plant fibers on his first bridging excursion, which seemed like ages ago. Now that skill would help him prevent her from killing herself. Or from killing him.

  He went back to working on the half-woven bundle of stems. He already had plenty of rope to keep her securely tied, but it couldn’t hurt to have extra. Besides, the work helped to keep his mind off the fact that she might never wake up, as well as the nightmare this colony’s situation had become.

  Gretchen and another woman appeared at the top of the six-foot ravine a few yards away. “Group eighteen has arrived,” Gretchen said, keeping her voice low. “We lost two colonists this time. Couldn’t get to them in time to keep them from yelling. It took the mongrels all of half a second to target them. Nothing we could do.”

  Desmond felt overwhelmed by guilt. He knew he should go to the mongrels and try to reason with them. But he wasn’t ready to leave Infinity’s side. Plus, the thought of confronting the mongrels was absolutely terrifying. One wrong move and they’d kill him. Or transform him into wild animals. Regardless of what happened with Infinity, he’d have to initiate some kind of dialogue with
the mongrels soon, even if doing so was suicide. It might be the colony’s only hope.

  “This is Lottie,” Gretchen said, putting her hand on the other woman’s elbow. “She’s a doctor. Would you like her to look at Infinity?”

  “Please,” Desmond said. “I thought she’d be awake by now.”

  Lottie made her way down into the ravine. “Actually, I used to be an orthopedic surgeon. I resigned four years ago when I got married.”

  Rich husband, Desmond thought. But he didn’t comment, as he was too tired to feel much like having a conversation.

  Lottie kneeled down next to Infinity and felt her neck and forehead, looked in her mouth, pried open her eyes, and felt her pulse. Then she sat back and sighed. “Her heart rate and body temperature seem normal, considering these… conditions. To be honest, with no equipment, I can’t really—”

  Infinity coughed three times, shooting spittle onto Lottie’s face. Infinity then opened her eyes and blinked, obviously disoriented. She found Desmond and focused on him. “What…?”

  Desmond put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay? I was getting pretty worried.”

  She moaned and tried to move her arms. Realizing she couldn’t, she frowned and moaned again. “God, it hurts.”

  “Infinity, my name’s Lottie. Remember me? We talked earlier. Can you tell me where it hurts?”

  Infinity, her eyes slightly askew, looked at Lottie. “I don’t… oh, shit. Something’s wrong.”

  “What’s wrong, hon? Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  Infinity closed her eyes and then threw her head back, smacking the tree behind her. She dropped her head forward and did it again, this time harder. “I need it. I need the venomcrook.”

  Lottie exchanged a glance with Desmond.

  Infinity hit her head again. “Where is it?”

  Desmond put his hand between her head and the tree’s trunk. “Infinity, please. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  She slammed her head twice in quick succession, nearly crushing the bones in his hand.

  “Infinity, stop!” He gripped her head with both hands.

  She growled and tried to bite him, forcing him to withdraw. She started slamming her head against the tree over and over. “Where is it? Where is it? Goddammit, give it to me!” She kicked her feet and arched her back, trying to pull away from the tree.

  Desmond could see that the back of Infinity’s scalp was already mashed and bloody. He got behind the tree, reached around, and held her head tight against the trunk to stop her from killing herself.

  Gretchen slid down the slope and threw herself onto Infinity’s legs.

  The ropes were starting to cut into Infinity’s wrists and ankles, but at least they were holding her securely.

  Infinity continued thrashing and fighting. Her skin was now drenched with sweat. After what seemed like at least ten minutes, Desmond began to wonder how much longer her body could keep going at this intensity. Gradually, she slowed down, and then she relaxed.

  “You’re killing me,” she said. “Do you understand? You’re killing me!” She went back to fighting. But after a few minutes, her limbs began shaking, showing signs of fatigue. A sob escaped her lips, followed by another minute or two of weakened thrashing. Finally she seemed to be finished.

  Still behind her, Desmond couldn’t see her face, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He’d never seen her cry, but she was sobbing so hard her entire body was shaking.

  He released her head, and it dropped, hanging loosely above her chest. He crawled around to her side and sat, watching her. He heard Gretchen and Lottie sit back on the ground and whisper to each other.

  The sobbing slowed down and then stopped. Infinity’s chest heaved as air rushed in and out through her nose.

  “You going to be okay?” Desmond asked quietly.

  She raised her head. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her face was covered with a mixture of sweat and tears. “I’m okay now, Desmond.”

  He gazed at her face. Her eyes were still slightly askew.

  “I’m better now,” she said. “You can let me go. I won’t hurt myself.”

  Desmond continued studying her. He wanted—no, needed—her to be okay.

  “Look at my ankles,” she said. “And my wrists. The ropes are hurting me. Let me go, okay? You can let me go now.”

  He sighed. “When we bridge back we’ll get something to treat those cuts. But right now I don’t think it’s safe to let you go.”

  Without warning she slammed her head back into the tree and started thrashing again.

  8:39 PM

  Something was touching the top of Desmond’s head. Fingers, massaging his bare scalp. He snapped his head up, disoriented. It was darker now. The last thing he remembered was watching through the forest canopy as the sky had turned orange and then faded to black.

  A figure standing over him withdrew its hand. In spite of the darkness, Desmond knew it was a musk monkey by the oily garlic smell.

  “Abel?”

  “The one and only,” the warbling voice replied.

  Desmond wiped his eyes and squinted up at the creature. He then looked over at Infinity. He could only make out her pale outline in the darkness, but he could tell she was slumped over, asleep. He crawled to her and put a hand on her arm. She stirred slightly but didn’t wake.

  “Where have you been, Abel? What’s going on?”

  “Been fretting a bit, stewing a bit more, and agonizing a fair share for good measure. Been off to see the herd. Those folks are agitated, to say the least. Also been to the mongrels. They anticipate witnessing a fracas come feeding time tomorrow. And do you know whose job it is to preside over said fracas?”

  Desmond waited. Apparently Abel expected him to reply. “Yours?”

  “Indeed. As interesting as all this ruckus might be, I’ve a mind to go and join the ferals.”

  “The mongrels want us to fight the painted people?”

  Abel gazed at him for a moment. “The fracas is gonna happen whether they want it or not. You’ve seen the wild land. You know full and well that your herd can’t live there. You have to seize this bailiwick. You know it and I know it. My job is to see to it the fracas takes place near the mongrels’ domicile, as they enjoy bearing witness to such disputations.”

  “The mongrels only provide for a herd of 250,” Desmond said.

  “True enough. But sustenance for 250 beats no sustenance at all.”

  Desmond stared at the creature for a moment. “How do you communicate with the mongrels?”

  Abel stepped forward and then sat on the ground. Desmond heard the creature’s tail snaking its way into a coil around its butt. “Why do you ask that?”

  Desmond couldn’t think of any reason to lie. “Because I want to talk to them. I want to convince them to provide enough sustenance for our entire colony to live here. I’m responsible for this colony’s survival.”

  The musk monkey gazed at him silently for what seemed like minutes. “I reckon you spoke with the feral named Reason. I figured as much after you followed them ferals into their cave.”

  “Reason taught me what he had learned, how to get the mongrels to listen to him.”

  “He’s a mad old codger. Ain’t been right in the head since the mongrels took him in to have a meeting of the minds. Problem was, his mind didn’t hold up.”

  “Is it possible for me to talk to the mongrels?” Desmond asked.

  “Take a good look at yourself. You ain’t built for it! Why do you think mongrels keep us musk monkeys around? Because we’re suited to the job of serving the mongrels. Have been since the beginning of time. Mongrels need us as much as we need them.”

  “Then talk to them for me,” Desmond said. “You can convince them to help.”

  “I’ll do no such thing! You know why I’m still me? Because I know better, that’s why. If you wanna go to them mongrels and have them suck the wits from your head or transfigure you into dung beetles, you go right ahead. It ain’t gonna stop
the fracas they’re hankering to witness.”

  Desmond glanced over at Infinity’s sleeping form. He knew that she would do anything to save the colony, regardless of the risk to her own safety. “I have to try,” he said.

  “Chances are, you’ll raise the mongrels’ hackles just by attempting it. However, if by some confounded miracle they grant you an audience, remember this: it ain’t gonna be nothing like you thought it might. If you go to gettin’ agitated or losing your nerve, it’ll be over for your sorry carcass.”

  Desmond sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He paused. “So, what will it be like?”

  The musk monkey let out a grunt and then got to its feet. “I ain’t got all night to explain what can’t be explained.” The creature held something out—a venomcrook. “You want this back? More rapture will likely kill that woman, but dying by rapture is a far cry better than what she’s going through.”

  Desmond considered it. “No. I’d prefer never to see one of those again.”

  Abel withdrew the weapon. “Never in my days… goodness gracious, ain’t you a conundrum.”

  The creature climbed the slope and disappeared.

  16

  Darkness

  September 2 - 11:51 PM

  Infinity blinked. It was dark. When had it gotten dark? The forest was quiet except for a few whippoorwills calling in the distance. The back of her head hurt like hell. And so did everything else. She blinked again. She felt something pressing against her shoulder, holding her upright. It was a body, leaning against her. The body smelled of sweat, but it was a familiar, comforting smell. Desmond’s smell.

  “You should know better than to sit this close to me,” she said.

  His head popped, thumping the tree trunk behind them, reminding Infinity of the cause of the pain in her own head.

  “Infinity, you’re awake!” He moved a few feet away from her.

  “I could have torn your ear off with my teeth.”

  “But you didn’t. I’ll take that as a good sign.”

  She tried to read his expression, but the darkness shrouded it. “If I asked you to untie me now, would you?”