After a very long time, the light began to die away. The shapes outside lost color, blurring together into teasing, indefinite silhouettes. The grass clumps huddled all around him like hunched animals.
And then the dewdrops started to appear.
Until that happened, he had been resolute. He had intended to stay right in the heart of his clump, waiting for the dew to trickle down to him. But he hadn’t counted on seeing so much water so close. Once the moon came out, there were dewdrops hanging just beyond reach, whichever way he peered, and his thirst was more than he could bear. He had to drink. Parting the leaves he started to wriggle free, keeping low and quiet.
And that was when it happened.
As he stopped to unhook his fleece from the leaves, for the fourth or fifth time, he caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Someone—something—was creeping through the pale trees, toward the entrance of the burrow.
He froze, holding his breath so that he wouldn’t frighten it away.
It stepped into the open space inside the circle of trees, and he saw that it was human. That was obvious from the way it moved. But it looked hunched and distorted, with a great lump on its shoulders. It had almost reached the ramp before Robert realized that the lump was a bundle tied high on its back.
At the top of the ramp, it stopped and turned its head from side to side, listening. Robert forced himself to stay motionless. He was outside his hiding place now, relying on shadows and stillness to keep him invisible.
The dark figure listened for a moment longer. Then it squatted down on the far side of the big stone, which was all that was left of the huge red fruit. Sliding the bundle off its back and onto the ground, it bent forward over it.
Robert recognized his chance. Slowly, slowly, he began to crawl toward the circle of trees, listening for every tiny sound that came from the burrow. He heard a faint scraping and then a quick, impatient sigh and the shadowy figure bent lower, almost invisible now behind the fruit stone.
When Robert reached the tree circle, he stopped for a second. Now there was nothing between him and his visitor except a short stretch of open ground covered with bamboo stems. If he was careful, he could cross it in four steps. He took a long breath—slow and silent—and stood up.
Instantly the shadow by the burrow moved, jumping to its feet. For the first time, Robert saw her clearly in the pale light of the moon.
He hadn’t been expecting a girl. She was small and slight, with long hair tied back tightly. Her face and body were smeared dark with mud, and she was wearing some kind of short tunic.
While he was still staring, she began to run, moving fast over the tangled ground. She headed away from him, crossing the circle to get to the dark forest.
Robert ran, too, determined not to let her get away, but he never had any real chance of catching her. She was fast and nimble, and she knew how to run over the surface of the bamboo stems without catching her feet. He stumbled after her as best as he could, but by the time he reached the far edge of the tree circle, she had disappeared into the thick shadows under the arching branches. He had no idea which way she had gone.
He stood and swore out loud. Two whole days wasted!
Somewhere at the back of his head, Emma’s voice mocked him. He knew exactly what she would have said. So what is your problem? You’ve got all the days you want and nothing to do . . . . But that was wrong. He had everything to do. And he had wasted a whole day—a whole food-gathering, tool-making, exploring day—on something with no result.
Or had he?
When he stumbled back to the entrance of the burrow, he found that the girl had left her bundle behind. It was lying on the ground at the top of the ramp, abandoned in the moonlight. There was a curled leaf that had obviously been rolled up for carrying. Now it was laid out almost flat, and on it was a pile of white crumbs, heaped up carefully.
Squatting down, Robert scooped up a small handful and sniffed at them. They were hard and slightly oily, with a faint, unfamiliar smell. When he touched his tongue to them, they tasted rich and nutty, though he could not have said what kind of nut it was.
Next to the leaf was a heap of something dark, lying crumpled on the ground. He picked up the largest piece and examined it, turning it so that the light fell on its surface. It was soft like cloth, but not cloth. Some kind of leather, maybe? The piece he was holding was a large rectangle and underneath it were four cords, made of the same stuff but plaited together for strength.
He guessed that he was holding the makings of the girl’s backpack. It was very simple, but the pieces were beautifully made. The leather was fine and soft, and the strings had been plaited evenly. Running his hands over them, Robert tried to figure out how to fit the pack together, but he was too tired to experiment.
He ate a little of the nut stuff and drank some dew, and then he wrapped up the whole bundle in the leather rectangle and carried it down the ramp into his burrow.
It took him several minutes to rearrange the blanket as he wanted it. When that was done, he crawled into the tunnel and slept, with the leather bundle of crushed nuts lodged safely inside the fur, against his back.
8
HE WOKE UP BECAUSE THE LEATHER BUNDLE MOVED.
It slid against his skin and he woke suddenly, rigid with shock. The air was stifling, and the tunnel was pitch-black. In front of his eyes, in the tunnel entrance, he was aware of a solid shape, blocking out the moonlight.
Some instinct kept him utterly still, breathing lightly, as if he were still asleep. After a few moments, he was aware of the darkness . . . shifting. There was no more light than before, but the air quivered, and the hunched shape moved just a fraction closer to his face. He could feel his own breath reflected back against his skin.
The leather bundle slid again, inching along his back toward the entrance.
It was level with his shoulder now, sinking into the angle of his neck. He waited, still pretending to be asleep, ready to react the instant it moved again. There was a long pause. Then the leather slipped another inch—and he rolled over and grabbed, all in one movement.
He was aiming not for the bundle itself, but for the hand that had to be there. His fingers shot forward and closed around a small, bony wrist, so narrow that it almost slipped out of his grasp. He tightened his fingers and brought his other hand around, clamping it over the first one and clinging on with all his strength.
There was a short, fierce struggle in the darkness. The intruder’s other hand darted into the burrow, jabbing at his hands and his face. He closed his eyes tightly and ignored the blows, just concentrating on hanging on. Then his opponent began to strain backward, struggling to tug the arm free.
Robert had no reason to hold his ground. He didn’t relax his grip, but he let himself be pulled forward, out of the burrow and up onto the ramp. Once he was out there, he knew who it was that he’d caught. He recognized the shape of the head, with the long hair pulled back from the face.
"I’m a friend—" he said. He was panting with the effort of holding on, but he tried to sound gentle. "I’m . . . a friend. Don’t be afraid."
There was no reason for her to understand the actual words, but he hoped that the tone of his voice would reassure her. And it seemed to have some effect. She stopped struggling and lay back against the ramp, looking up at him with eyes that glinted in the moonlight. Not afraid, but watchful.
Keeping his fingers tightly clamped, he leaned forward and spoke again. "I’m a friend. I need help. I think my plane crashed."
She understood the words.
He saw her understand. It was very quick—a brief flash of attention—but there was no mistaking it. She had understood him. He was so startled—so relieved and amazed—that his fingers loosened involuntarily.
Immediately the girl moved, pulling her hand free and darting out of his grasp. Robert lunged forward, expecting her to race up the ramp. But she dodged around him, heading back into the tunnel, and he almost sprawled headlong
.
Just in time he realized what she was up to. He threw himself back, not caring how he fell, but desperate to snatch up the bundle before she reached it. Their hands clashed, and he flung his arm out sideways, pushing her away.
He hadn’t realized how light she was. His blow threw her off balance completely, knocking her off her feet. He caught at the long tail of her hair, winding his fingers into it and tugging her head down to the ground.
Then he slid his other hand around behind him, feeling for the leather bundle. His brain was whirling, trying to think of how to use what had happened. He didn’t understand what the girl was up to, but she might be one of the survivors from the plane crash. If she was, she might know where the others were, or where the wreckage had landed.
He scrambled onto his knees and pulled her head up, leaning forward to look into her face. "Right," he said softly. "This is what we’re going to do. You want this backpack, don’t you?"
He shook it in the air, just out of her reach. She twisted her head sideways to look up at it, but he couldn’t see her expression.
"Let’s make a bargain." He shook the backpack again. "You want this—and I want to see where you live. I want to meet the other people."
There was no response, but he could feel her listening—and he knew he had to get it right. He pulled her back to face him and went on talking, with his brain going at lightning speed.
"I’m going to let go of your hair in a minute. You’ll be able to run away if you want to. But make sure I can follow you. You won’t get this pack until I see where you live."
There was a long silence. Robert was hoping for an answer, but she didn’t say anything. She just waited to run, with all her muscles tensed, ready to leap up. He had to take the gamble and let her go. If the backpack was really precious to her, she would let him follow.
"OK," he said. And he slid his fingers out of her hair.
The moment he let go, she lunged forward, trying to snatch the backpack while he was still kneeling. But before she could touch it, he was on his feet, holding it high above her head.
"No chance," he said. "There’s only one way you’ll get this."
She drew in her breath with an angry hiss. Then she jumped up and ran, racing up the ramp and across the circle of trees, toward the dark forest. Robert tore up the ramp after her, but he thought he’d blown it. There was no way he could match her speed over the bamboo stems.
She obviously realized that. When she reached the edge of the dark trees, she turned and looked over her shoulder to check that he was following. She hovered for a moment, until he was well on the way, and then set off again, moving just fast enough to keep a safe distance ahead.
Robert had never trailed anyone before. When he had given the instructions, he had imagined himself gliding after her like a snake, soundless and unseen. He had visualized himself covering the ground easily, with his eyes fixed on the fleeing shape in front of him.
The truth was laughably different. Every step he took was a separate effort. He had to watch where he put his feet and keep an eye out for low branches overhead. His feet slipped and squelched on the wet leaves, and where the earth was bare he had to scramble over heavy clods and big, irregular boulders.
The leather bundle hampered him, because it left him with only one free hand. But he couldn’t ditch it. The girl kept glancing back, to check that it was still there. If she saw him without it, he would lose sight of her instantly. He had no illusions about that. She was twice as fast as he was, as though she had some kind of extra sense that lit up the darkness. He could see her twisting and turning along paths that were virtually invisible to him.
Gradually she led him deep into the forest, and it grew thicker and more tangled. A dank, foul-smelling creeper wove its way in and out of the great splayed tree trunks, blocking the way with its vast leaves. Robert found himself ducking around them and squeezing through narrow spaces, and he began to wonder if he was being led into a trap.
Then, just as it seemed as if they were reaching the dense heart of the jungle, the forest opened out again. The huge, looping trunks gave way to shorter trees and thick, green bushes. Stepping carefully through these, the girl led him out into a patch of moonlight.
They were standing on the edge of a long, deep ravine.
It ran left and right as far as Robert could see, disappearing into the darkness in both directions. Its walls went down sheer and vertical, thick with vegetation, and the bottom was hidden in dense shadow. On the far side, a great wall of forest reared up like a rampart, hiding the sky.
The girl turned and began to race along the side of the ravine, moving very fast now. She seemed to know every stone and every crack in the earth, and Robert had no chance of keeping up. He struggled on, just managing to keep her in sight.
Until—quite suddenly—she vanished.
She had been heading for a place where the ravine was bridged by a fallen tree. The trunk lay right across, from bank to bank, with the branches holding the nearer end off the ground. The girl ran around the spreading branches and disappeared. And the sound of her feet stopped abruptly.
Robert felt his heart thud. Was this it? Had they reached the other survivors? Was the crashed plane down there at the bottom of the ravine?
Or was this a trick?
He slowed down, moving warily and keeping the leather bundle clutched close to his chest. The tree was an ideal place for an ambush. He gave the dead branches a wide berth, trying to peer in underneath them as he crept past.
Nothing moved. On the other side of the tree, there was no sign of the girl. The forest around him was silent except for its usual strange creaks and rumbles. Cautiously, he took another step, away from the fallen trunk.
And a hand snaked out of the ravine and caught him around the ankle, pulling him to the ground.
Before he could yell, the girl’s other hand was over his mouth and her face was close to his. She shook her head hard, hushing him fiercely. Then she reached for the bundle.
They were poised on the very edge of the ravine, above what looked like a bottomless gulf. The girl was wedged into a clump of bushes, but there was nothing below Robert except a sheer drop. He was terrified.
But he wasn’t going to be bullied.
He lifted the bundle out of her reach and jerked his head free. "Not good enough," he whispered fiercely. "Where are the others?"
The girl made impatient movements with her hand, hushing him again. Then she pointed across the ravine. Robert felt like shaking her.
"Why don’t you speak?"
She shook her head and reached up again for the bundle.
It looked like the end of bargaining. She was obviously frightened, and she kept glancing nervously across the ravine. Robert could feel her resistance, like something solid between them. She obviously didn’t want to lose the backpack, but there was some other threat hanging over her. Something much bigger.
His only chance now was to take another gamble.
He lowered his arm and dropped the bundle into the girl’s hand. She grabbed it and hauled herself up the slope in a single, fluid movement. By the time Robert was on his feet, she had already scrambled into the crown of the fallen tree.
He saw her running out along the trunk, perfectly balanced and very fast. Desperate to keep her in sight, he threw himself at the branches, but they were sharp and bent at awkward angles. It wasn’t easy to climb up onto the trunk. By the time he had pulled himself up, the girl had disappeared again.
He stepped out onto the trunk and stood still, listening. After a moment or two, he thought he could make out the sound of voices, faint and muffled, coming from the other side of the ravine. He began to walk along the trunk, keeping his mind focused on the noise.
The tree trunk was broad and solid, easily wide enough for a bridge, but it wasn’t smooth. Long ridges ran from end to end, and the surface bristled with curious, stiff hairs that spiked his shins. There was a path worn through the bristles, but it was ha
rd to follow, and he had to pick his way carefully.
He was halfway along when he was plunged into darkness.
Overhead, a vast shadow blocked out the moonlight. He flung his head back, looking up, and saw a great, black shape coming at him from above. It fell through the air, too fast to escape, blotting out the whole sky.
But it can’t be . . . .
There was no sound. Only the wind in his ear and on the back of his neck, and a nightmare heading straight for him, too big to understand.
9
IT WAS BEYOND COMPREHENSION, CRACKING THE WORLD WIDE open. His brain refused to grasp it. Reality shattered into a hurricane of senseless, appalling images.
A glaring, gelatinous globe gleamed black and yellow, as big as his whole body. Claws reached out toward him like the arms of a great machine, ingrained with earth and blood. Vast, ribbed pinions beat up a hurricane of stinking air, foul with decay.
Anything was better than that horror—the gulf below him, physical pain, even death. Without hesitating, without even thinking, Robert threw himself sideways, off the bridge, into the black depths of the ravine.
He wasn’t fast enough. As his feet left the bridge, the cruel claws screamed down onto it, snapping together and crushing it into fragments. They caught his right thigh, slicing through the flesh and clamping the bone.
Screaming with pain and fear, Robert was hoisted into the air, with his whole weight dangling from one tortured leg. Huge wings beat around him. The air sucked and swirled over his body, and as it swung he felt the flesh tear and he started to black out.
Blindly he reached up, twisting his body double, with all his muscles straining as he searched for something to hold. His hands moved over the hard claw that dug into his leg and found a tough, feathery fringe above it. Winding his fingers into the strands of feather, he heaved himself up, taking the weight off his tortured thigh.
The Dark Ground Page 4