by Bev Prescott
The crowd of Yěxìng started yelling and waving weapons.
“They want us to go into the pit,” Dr. Elan said.
“Maybe we can outrun them. I really don’t want to go into that pit.” Sharon tugged him to a stop. “There’s got to be a plan B. What about the turbo-vests? We could just fly out of here.”
“Trust me when I tell you that where there are twenty-three Yěxìng, there are at least a hundred more hiding close by. We can’t risk them following us to the ship. The turbo-vests are a last resort.” He put a foot on the top rung of the ladder. His harried expression did not match his calm words.
“You look scared,” she said.
“I am.” Dr. Elan glanced down into the dark tomb and back. “I’m scared that the Yěxìng won’t act as I predict. But as long as they do, I have a plan that will work. The good news is that I’m betting they’ll take the predictable approach to dealing with us. Humans, even the feral ones, are usually unsurprising.”
“You’re the expert.” Sharon inhaled a breath that wasn’t as calming as she’d hoped.
With his foot on the top rung and the Yěxìng moving closer, Dr. Elan looked into the black void. “Would you mind shining your light? I’d like to know what I’m stepping into.”
Sharon lifted her sleeve. A mangy, frail dog cowered below. Bones lay scattered around the periphery. Disgust and fear rattled Sharon’s resolve. “As hard as it’s going to be to make myself climb down there, I’m right behind you, Doc. I trust you.”
“I’m glad to have you at my back.” Dr. Elan smiled up at her. “Looks like it’s just us and an unfortunate dog.” As he climbed down he said, “While I’m not a fan of NONA, I like that they revere dogs. Now that we’ve found it, we can’t leave it.”
Sharon didn’t need any more to know that she liked Dr. Elan. Deciding in the instant to save the dog was her instinct too. When she got to the bottom of the pit, she looked up at the ominous deranged faces gathering at its rim.
A tall, thin man with a gray beard that brushed his belly set a box on a wooden platform near the fourth rung down. Using a long pipe with a hook at its end, he lifted one side off the box. A dark gray snake lay coiled inside. Its diamond-shaped head darted at the retreating pipe and lid, but missed.
“Ha.” Dr. Elan clapped. “It’s just like in the books. A black mamba. They used to be one of South Africa’s most deadly snakes. But they’ve learned to survive quite well in the Nebraska Desert. Its venom kills within minutes. The ancients called the bite of a mamba the kiss of death. This one appears to be guarding the ladder.”
Sharon struggled to keep track of the snake above and the dog at the bottom of the pit with them. “I have to admit,” she said, “it worries me that you find pleasure in being in close quarters with a killer snake.”
“That snake, my dear, is our predictable ticket out of here.” He wheeled around and regarded the dog. “Poor beast. Let’s earn his trust with some food.”
“What about the snake? How the hell do we get us and the dog past it?” Sharon unfastened her turbo-vest and slipped her satchel from her shoulders.
“I have a plan that will work and doesn’t involve interrupting JJ and Federico from repairing and guarding the ship.” He crouched down with his back to the wall. “They’re leaving us. That’s why the snake is there. They think it’ll keep us from escaping. It’s universal, the innate human fear of snakes. I suppose religion has planted its own seeds of snake hate. They expect it of us.”
“Snake hate?”
“They are the most underappreciated reptile.” The expression on his face suggested he meant it. Sincerely.
“No offense, Doc, but I hope your plan involves us killing the underappreciated reptile.” Sharon stared up at the snake. “I’m thinking we can probably find something to knock it off the ledge. Then maybe throw a jacket over it. Once it’s trapped, I’d kill it with my hammer.”
Dr. Elan curved a finger through the eye-socket of a human skull near his foot. “This poor bastard,” he lifted it, “likely tried to get past a mamba.” He set the skull down. “We have to keep in mind the characteristics of the snake in order to get the better of it.”
“Okay, what are they?” Sharon asked.
“The bad news is that the mamba is one of the fastest and most agile snakes on the planet.” Dr. Elan scooped sand from the floor into his hand. “The good news is that they’re clumsy on soft sand.” He opened his hand, letting the fine grains sift through his fingers. “I think you’re right. We have to knock it down. But clumsy as it may be on sand, if it gets close enough to strike, it will strike again and again. They’re relentless when threatened.”
Sharon had been trying to avoid looking at the human remains scattered in the pit. “You mean these people were killed by the snake instead of being eaten by the Yěxìng?”
“That’s right.” Dr. Elan got to his feet and unbuckled his vest. “The Yěxìng won’t touch a body that’s been contaminated with snake venom. These people were left to decompose. How this is supposed to work is that the snake keeps prey from exiting. The snake stays in the box because the walls are too smooth for it to climb. The prey stays in the pit because it’s too afraid of the snake. At sunrise, the snake handler replaces the wall of the snake’s container. Then the Yěxìng come down to retrieve their prey. The tricky part for us will be figuring out how to kill the snake before it kills us.”
Sharon eased the turbo-vest from his shoulders and set it on the ground. “I have an idea.” She lifted the flap of her satchel and plucked out a container of fried beetles and her flask. “I’ll use my bag as a shield. It’s made of Kantolean, a laser-proof fabric. Maybe get the snake to strike the bag enough times to tire it out. Then I’ll get close enough to kill it.” She opened the container and offered a beetle on her open palm to the dog.
The dog sniffed and snapped it up.
“Good boy.” She cupped her hand and poured water into it. “How about some water too?”
Dr. Elan smiled and showed her the tattoo on his wrist. “These points on the snowflake hexagon are significant to the Qaunik. They represent the six virtues, the six great professions, and the six essential human needs. Two of the virtues, kindness and bravery—you have those in spades, Sharon.” He reached into his pocket. “See if he’ll eat this too.” He held out his palm. “It’s rat jerky. It’ll give him strength for our journey out of here.”
Remorse over stealing Annie’s coat and leaving Inu hung over Sharon like a black cloud. “I’m not kind. And not even all that brave.” She touched the turbo-vest. “You sure we can’t just fly out of here? We can make a sling to carry the dog. Why not call Federico for help?” She scratched the dog’s neck, feeling sure that it was smart enough to know the difference between being saved versus eaten. Plus, it was too weak to be a threat. It barely mustered the energy to wag its tail.
“We still need to retrieve our bags full of plastic. It’s too risky to fly. If we land in a nest of Yěxìng, they’d kill us then and there. Plus, we don’t want them following us back to the Belostomatid. They need to be too terrified to come after us. Killing the snake is the best way. And your idea to use your satchel as a shield is a good one. Federico needs to stay with the ship while JJ makes the necessary repairs.”
“All right. Killing the snake it is. Then we walk out of here, get our bags, and fly back to the ship. The Yěxìng will be too freaked out about the dead snake to follow us?”
“Precisely.” Dr. Elan reached into his jacket and retrieved an aluminum flask. He untwisted the cap. “How about some liquid courage? Enough to make us brave, but not enough to make us stupid. You ever taste bourbon?”
“Yeah,” Sharon answered. “It was my grandfather’s favorite. After he died, I found a couple of old bottles that he’d stashed. I saved them for special occasions. My wife and I shared the last bit of it the day we got married.” She caressed the dog’s nose. With a wiry reddish coat and long legs, he looked like a cross between a husky and
a German shepherd.
Again, the dog’s tail wagged feebly.
“You should call him Erik.” Dr. Elan took a sip and handed the bottle to Sharon. “Erik the Red. Our new comrade in adventure.”
“I like it. Erik it is.” Sharon put the bottle to her lips and tipped it back. The smoky amber liquid warmed her throat and nose. “That’s good.” Its calming effect bled into her veins. “Thank you.” She handed the bottle back to him. “Just enough to take the edge off. Let’s get this over with, Doc. Before I lose my nerve.”
Dr. Elan took off his jacket. “Here’s the plan.” He wadded his jacket into a ball. “I’m going to throw this so that the snake’s box falls to the left. You be ready with your shield and hammer. Hit it hard before it gets its bearings.”
“Got it—in theory.”
Dr. Elan chuckled.
She gripped her hammer in her right hand and held the satchel in her left. Her pulse raced. “I’m ready.”
“Here goes.” Dr. Elan heaved his jacket at the snake box. It tipped off the shelf and landed in soft sand with the open side up.
The snake’s head popped from the opening. It hissed and spread its neck flap like a cobra.
Sharon shone her light at the snake. It opened its mouth wide and flicked its tongue. Its fangs glinted in the beam of light. Holding the bag in front of her, Sharon moved closer. The snake struck the bag in quick violent succession, five or six times. The force of the last strike pushed Sharon off balance. Her foot landed on something, maybe a bone. She stumbled onto her back.
The snake lunged from the box.
Keeping the satchel in front of her, Sharon scuttled away from it.
Erik barked and stomped his front paws.
Instantly, the snake turned on the dog.
Sharon flung her hammer. The clean shot sank the claw into the snake’s neck.
Dr. Elan threw his vest over its writhing body.
As the snake’s head edged from the vest, Sharon drove the heel of her boot onto it. Its meaty flesh squished and bone crunched. She pulled her hammer free and lifted her foot. Blood oozed from the snake’s open mouth. She bent over and exhaled.
“Good work.” Dr. Elan nudged the snake with his boot. “Looks pretty dead. I hate having to kill it. But it was the only way.” He picked up his jacket and put it on.
“I know.” She wiped her hammer on her dungarees and returned it to the baldric. “Let’s get out of here.”
They retrieved their gear and helped each other put their turbo-vests back on. Sharon lifted the frail dog onto her shoulders. Dr. Elan threw the snake’s tail over his shoulder and curled the remainder of its body into a bundle he could carry.
Then he climbed to the top of the pit and scouted for Yěxìng.
Sharon followed, carrying the skin-and-bones dog like a sack.
“Oh, dear.” Dr. Elan turned. In the soft glow of the light from Sharon’s sleeve, he looked ashen.
“What is it?” She set the dog down. “What’s wrong?”
Dr. Elan dropped the snake and tried to say something. Beads of sweat bubbled at his temples. “My arm, it hurts.”
Sharon kicked the snake body away. Panic fluttered through her. “Let’s rest.”
He shook his head, and put his hands to his chest. “Heart . . .” He dropped to his knees and fell over onto his back.
“No!” Sharon got down beside him and fumbled to open the heavy vest. She put her ear to his chest, willing his heart to beat. Nothing.
“Dr. Elan!” She heard the weird chattering of Yěxìng in the distance.
Erik leaned against her and growled at the darkness.
Sharon put two fingers to the old man’s neck and felt no pulse. “Stay with me, Doc.” She put her stacked hands to his chest and counted compressions. Goddammit. She couldn’t remember how many she was supposed to do. Ten, before giving a breath? Fifteen? She covered his mouth with hers and blew.
His chest rose.
She repeated the compressions and breaths in several cycles before checking again for a pulse. Still nothing.
“No, no, no, no.” Sharon tried to lift him by his jacket collar.
The dog whimpered.
“Sharon!”
She looked in the direction of the familiar voice. “JJ!”
“We’ve been tracking you. When we saw you move farther east of the recycling plant, we thought something might be wrong.” JJ dropped to his knees and put two fingers to Dr. Elan’s neck for several long seconds. “What happened?”
“Heart attack,” Sharon whispered. “I think.”
“How long ago?”
“Five, ten minutes.” She shook her head. “I can’t be sure.”
“I think he’s gone.” JJ’s voice sagged with grief.
“No.” Tears escaped past Sharon’s defenses. “Let’s keep trying.”
The clicking sound grew louder.
“We got to go.” JJ took her by the elbow and helped her to her feet. “The Yěxìng are coming.”
Sharon listened to the ominous clicking creeping toward them.
Erik stood his ground at Sharon’s side and continued to growl.
She put a hand to his head. “We won’t leave you.”
A mask of sad determination replaced JJ’s usual lighthearted demeanor. “You can introduce me to your new friend when we get back to the ship. For now, we have to hurry. A massive sandstorm is coming as well.”
Sharon glanced at Dr. Elan’s body. “We can’t let them eat him.”
“They won’t.” JJ lifted the dead snake onto Dr. Elan’s chest. “They’ll think his body is contaminated by snake venom.”
“We still can’t leave him,” Sharon pleaded. “Not here.”
“Listen to me.” JJ shook her slightly. “He was my friend, and I’ll miss him forever. But what I know is that he’d rather be reclaimed by Earth than dragged off to be burned in a crematorium. The Yěxìng will leave him alone and the sand will cover him.” JJ knelt and touched his forehead to Dr. Elan’s. “May Earth reclaim you, as she will all of us. Goodbye, my friend.”
Sharon knelt and did the same. “I knew you less than a day, but I miss you already. Goodbye, Dr. Elan. Safe travels.”
Chapter 12
“Thanks to Sharon and Dr. Elan, we have enough fuel to get to California.” JJ’s voice was somber as he pushed away from the control panel. “For now, the Belostomatid is buttoned up against the storm. Her systems are sealed and secured. Maybe we can take a few seconds to remember Dr. Elan?”
“Yes, we should.” Federico lifted his head. “Wherever we go, we go with you, Dr. Elan. Your energy is part of us.”
They sat in silence for several moments.
“You’re a good man.” Federico cupped the back of JJ’s neck. “Dr. Elan loved you. I know you’re tired. It’s been a tough couple of days. We’ll all rest soon. For now, we need to prepare for Phillip’s trial for the murder of Dr. Elan. Woody’s assembling a quorum by video transmission. We’ll put this time hunkered down to good use.”
The storm had continued, for more than six hours now, to roar outside. Wind-driven sand lashed at the ship. The bulky Belostomatid shuddered with occasional violent gusts.
“I’ll prepare a last meal for Phillip.” JJ seemed sluggish, his movements bogged down by more than fatigue. Without waiting for a response, he left the cockpit.
“Murder?” Sharon asked. “Dr. Elan died of a heart attack.”
“You doubt his guilt?” Federico asked.
“No. I was there. He intended to steal the ship and leave you and JJ to die.” Sharon pressed her foot closer to the sleeping dog at her feet. Erik’s presence was as much a comfort to her as she suspected hers was to him. “I hope he gets what’s coming to him. But how is it murder?”
“Phillip set the events in motion that led to Dr. Elan’s death. He’ll very likely die for what he’s done, but not at the hands of the Qaunik. I assure you, our way is more than fair.” He plucked a bottle of water from a crate near
where he sat and passed it to Sharon. “Please, you need to drink more.”
When she reached for it, she noticed the tattoo. “All of you wear that snowflake. What does it mean?”
“It’s our symbol.” He pushed his sleeve up.
“Dr. Elan told me that the points represent six human virtues, six great professions, and . . .” She paused, trying to remember the last one.
“The six essential human needs,” Federico filled in the blank. “Inspiration, purpose, connection, freedom, identity.” He counted them off on five fingers, and held up his thumb on the other hand. “And love.”
“And the others?” Sharon flipped the top open on the bottle.
“The six human virtues we all strive for are loyalty, kindness, bravery, humility, curiosity, and honesty.” He pointed at the circle from which the three hexagons anchored. Each hexagon had a unique length and shape at its ends, like a snowflake in nature. “The circle cut into quarters is an ancient symbol for Earth. All of life, including humanity, is born from Earth. Nothing living exists without her.” He moved his finger to the first hexagon. “These are the six great professions: scientists, artists, teachers, healers, builders, and leaders.”
“What about farmers?” A note of disappointment tinged her voice. “The world is starving.”
“Not everyone has to aspire to engage in one of these professions. We all do lots of different things. Those just happen to be the ones we revere. Being a farmer, on the other hand, is like being able to breathe. It’s not a profession, but something we must all aspire to do. We’re all would-be farmers.”
“Would-be?” Sharon put the bottle to her lips and let the cool liquid soothe her dry mouth. “You don’t grow anything?”
“We have nothing to grow.” He reached for a plate on the pull-out desk beneath STELA. “A long-term food supply is our greatest vulnerability and why the water on this ship is so important.” He passed the plate to her. “There are only so many of these disgusting reconstituted, freeze-dried potato-kale-beetle larvae patties we can trade for or steal. We need to be able to grow our own potato and kale. Please, you eat the last one. I’ve had enough.”