by Allen Steele
There was only one sour moment, and that was when we went to bed. Just as Barry was gathering water to throw on the fire and Kuniko was packing away the cookware, Carlos stood up and stretched, then announced that he and I were taking the tent on the left. That was news just as much to me as it was to the others; Chris and David glanced at each other, then at Barry, then at Kuniko. What, the four of them were supposed to squeeze into one tent while Carlos and I shared the honeymoon suite? Yet Carlos seemed to assume that was what I wanted to do; he took me by the hand and, without so much as saying good night to the others, tugged me toward the tent.
Carlos had already laid out his bedroll; as soon as he closed the tent flap behind us, he began pulling off his clothes. Sex was the furthest thing from my mind; I could barely keep my eyes open, and all I really wanted to do was sleep. But soon he was half-naked, sitting up on his knees and stroking my back even before I had finished untying my bedroll. In retrospect, I think he’d entertained fantasies of this moment for many months: him and me, alone in a tent on our own little island…
A couple of days ago, it might have been my fantasy as well. Yet we weren’t alone anymore, and the way that he had treated Kuniko irritated me. I was trying to think of a way to turn him down that wouldn’t hurt his feelings when someone opened the tent.
I looked around to see Kuniko crawl inside, pulling her bedroll behind her. She said nothing, but the cold glare she gave Carlos caused him to move away from me. Then, without a word, she threw down her bedroll and began to lay it out between us.
From somewhere outside, I heard muffled laughter from the Levin brothers; Barry murmured something, and they quickly shut up. Carlos fumed, but he remained quiet; he must have realized any argument was pointless. Kuniko was sleeping with us whether he liked it or not. I favored him with an apologetic smile, and he scowled as he put his shirt back on. Kuniko either didn’t notice or pretended not to; she removed her boots, placed them behind her, then pulled aside her blanket and stretched out, separating Carlos from me with her body.
And that was the way we slept, not only that night, but for many nights thereafter. To be quite honest, I preferred it that way.
It wasn’t until much later that I learned what had happened back in Liberty.
Our escape wasn’t as close as we’d imagined because our absence wasn’t immediately noticed. When Sissy Levin awoke to discover that Chris and David weren’t home, she assumed that they had merely gotten up early to go fishing; it wasn’t until midmorning that Kim Newell dropped by to ask whether she’d seen Carlos. More mystified than alarmed, Sissy and Kim found Marie Montero and asked her where her brother had gone. Carlos might have sworn his kid sister to secrecy, but it didn’t take much to make the little girl break down in tears and tell the grown-ups what she knew.
In the meantime, Michael Geissal had awakened with a wretched hangover and the realization that he had somehow misplaced his key ring. He was still searching his cabin when Ellery Balis showed up at his place, keys in hand. Two rifles were missing from the armory, and the quartermaster wanted to know why he’d found Mike’s keys dangling from the lock. The hapless blueshirt swore up and down that he hadn’t visited the grange since the end of his shift the night before, and that he had no idea how he had lost his keys.
Ellery told him that they needed to see Captain Lee; the theft of two rifles was a serious matter. They were headed down Main Street to the mayor’s house when they were approached by Sissy and Kim. Chris, David, and Carlos had run away, the women were in near panic, and that was when Mike remembered Carlos having helped him stagger home from the Cantina.
As it turned out, Captain Lee was already aware that the boys were missing; Jack and Lisa Dreyfus had found the brief note Barry left on his bed. Since the note mentioned me by name, everyone trooped down to Kuniko’s house. She and I were long gone, of course, but Kuniko had left behind a letter of her own. Robert Lee found it on her examination table; he read it once, then folded it and put it in his pocket without letting anyone else see it.
Liberty was still a small settlement in those days, so it’s no surprise that news traveled fast. From what we were later told, it was Mike’s idea to go after us; angry that he had been duped so easily, he rounded up a posse of three other Prefects, and they went to the boathouse with the intent of pursuing us down Sand Creek. Yet as soon they dropped a couple of kayaks in the water, the boats sprang leaks; someone had drilled neat little holes in their hulls. It wasn’t until nearly noon that anyone considered launching a shuttle to go searching for us, and it took another hour for Jud Tinsley to discover that both the Mayflower and the Plymouth had been sabotaged.
About the same time we’d stopped near Levin Creek to have lunch, the Town Council convened in emergency session. Captain Lee did his best to keep everyone calm; he reported the theft of the canoes, guns, and various supplies, but also mentioned that Kuniko’s satphone was missing as well. The fact that Dr. Okada had decided to join us instead of blowing the whistle was a source of much speculation until Lee produced the letter he’d found and read it aloud. He then gave his opinion that pursuit was out of the question until the missing shuttle components were located; on the other hand, there was some small degree of comfort in the knowledge that a responsible adult was with us, and she had the ability to make contact with Liberty.
By then the satphone lay at the bottom of Sand Creek, but they couldn’t have known that. The only thing anyone knew was that five teenagers and an adult had gone off by themselves. After much discussion, the Council decided there was no real reason to worry. It was clearly a case of adolescent rebellion. We were just some crazy kids sowing our wild oats; in a few days, we’d get tired of our little adventure and come back on our own.
There was nothing to worry about. Nothing at all.
We rose shortly after dawn, while the morning was still cool and a silver mist lingered over the island. A quick breakfast of cold cereal and coffee, then we broke camp and loaded the canoes. I switched places with Barry in the bow of the Orion; his right shoulder was sore from having pulled a muscle the day before, and I was tired of being a passenger. Although Carlos wasn’t saying much to me—he was still miffed about the night before—he didn’t object. Kuniko offered to relieve David in the bow of the Pleiades, but he rudely insisted that he was doing okay. We cast off with the sun rising to the east and Bear directly above us: a clear morning, with no clouds in sight.
Sand Creek continued to broaden, and within a couple of hours we could no longer see the stream bottom. I had no problem adjusting to the work of hauling the heavy canoe; the current had become swift, and I was able to rest now and then. There was none of the urgency we’d felt the previous day; if anyone from Liberty was coming after us, they would have caught up with us already. So our pace was almost leisurely, and by late morning we were within sight of the Eastern Divide.
Most of New Florida was flat terrain, freshwater marshes only a couple of feet above what passed for sea level on Coyote. The Eastern Divide was the sole exception: a long, steep limestone wall looming above the grasslands, formed ages ago by the tectonic fault that ran beneath the East Channel. Over the course of countless years, the creek had eroded a narrow canyon through the wall; it was through the Shapiro Pass that we’d leave the inland.
I spotted a pair of swoops perched upon a limb of a blackwood. Swoops had always fascinated me, and since we were heading in the same direction they migrated late in autumn, I hoped we’d discover where they spent the winter. But now, staring down at us, they looked less like raptors than vultures anticipating their next meal. Feeling a chill, I took a moment to unwrap my sweater from around my waist and put it on again.
Shortly after noon, just before we entered Shapiro Pass, we paddled into a shallow cove to take a lunch break. We nibbled some dried fruit and biscuits and tried to make light conversation, but it was obvious that everyone was nervous about the rapids. When Barry offered to take over the bow, I didn’t protest; we’d
need someone with white-water experience to get through the pass.
Kuniko climbed out of the Pleiades, waded to the front of the canoe. “You, too,” she said to David, picking up his oar from where he had laid it across the gunnels. “I’ll take over from here.”
David didn’t budge. He looked straight ahead as he gnawed at his biscuit. “No way, bitch…”
She slapped him.
Not all that hard, but enough to knock the half-eaten biscuit from his mouth. “First, don’t ever call me that again,” she said, in an almost casual tone of voice that nonetheless had an edge to it. “In fact, if you ever address me as anything other than ‘ma’am’ or ‘Dr. Okada,’ I’ll remove your teeth through nonsurgical means. Are we clear on that, David?”
David glared up at her. His chin trembled, and his face was bright red where she had struck him. A tear crept down the side of his face. Everyone had gone silent; we could hear the skeeters buzzing around us, the water lapping against the side of the canoes.
“Y-y-yes, ma’am,” he whispered.
“Good. Second…the reason why I’m taking over is that you’re…what? Thirteen? Fourteen? I’m thirty-six, which makes me stronger than you are. If you don’t believe it, we can go ashore, and I’ll continue your lessons in proper etiquette. Do you believe me, David?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Very quietly, and with no argument.
“Good. You’ve done fine, but we need more muscle right now, and you just don’t have it. So climb in the back…please.”
David hesitated. He glanced back at Chris, who suddenly looked as if he wished he could claim his brother had been adopted, then he reluctantly stepped out of the bow seat and, head down, began sloshing his way toward the middle of the boat. “Thank you, David,” Kuniko said, and waited until he was back aboard before she climbed into the boat. She picked up her paddle, glanced at the others. “Everyone rested? Had enough to eat? Peed and everything?”
I could have used a squat in the woods, but just then Kuniko scared me more than the rapids. I dumbly nodded, just like everyone else. “Good,” she said. “Then let’s get going. The day’s getting late.”
She thrust the handle of her oar into the water and shoved off, then switched her grip on the oar and backpaddled to move the Pleiades away from shore. Her boat was already turned around by the time Barry pushed off the Orion. She didn’t pay attention to me, but Carlos had a mean look on his face.
“So who died and made her God?” he muttered.
“I dunno.” I thought about it a moment. “Maybe God likes her more than you.”
He didn’t appreciate that, but if he had a good answer, it didn’t come to him. But when Barry glanced back at me, there was a subtle smile on his face. He and I shared a secret moment of understanding, then he turned and put his back to the oar.
An hour later, we were within the shadow of the Eastern Divide, approaching the Shapiro Pass.
By then the current had turned swift. It carried us toward a deep gorge where great limestone bluffs towered above us like chalky white battlements. Here and there along the edge of the creek, massive boulders jutted above the surface, the water foaming as it surged around the rocks. We could no longer feel the sun upon us; a steady breeze moved through the pass, blowing cold spray into our faces. From somewhere not far ahead, we could hear a muted roar.
We’d moved ahead of the Pleiades, and Carlos yelled back to the other canoe, telling them to stay in the middle of the stream; it was deeper there, and we’d pass over the rocks. But not much deeper; glancing over the side, I could see gravel bottom racing past us. If we capsized, the undertow could pull us down before we’d have a chance to swim to safety. Suddenly, I was all too conscious of the fact that none of us wore life jackets.
I looked back at Carlos. He caught my eye, gave me a smile. “Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly. “My ol’ man and I used to white-water all the time. This’ll be…”
“Rapids!” Barry shouted. “Here we go!”
I stared past him. Seated where I was, I couldn’t see anything, yet a moment later there was a hard thump against the bottom of the canoe as its keel grazed an unseen boulder. Orion rocked back and forth; I grasped the gunnels and watched as Barry hastily switched his paddle from the right to the left, thrusting its blade deep into the water, deftly stroking away from the rocks.
I heard a whoop from behind us. The Pleiades was only a half dozen yards away, its prow leaping above the water before plunging back down again. Grinning like a madman, Chris was enjoying every moment of the ride, but David’s head lolled forward between his raised knees; his eyes were shut, and he looked nauseous. In the bow, Kuniko’s face was grim; her arms pumped at her oar as her eyes searched the churning water ahead, wary for any more potholes. Perhaps this was a game for Chris, but she knew the danger we were in.
“Hey!” Barry yelled. “Something moved…ahead to the right, on the rocks!”
I turned my head, looked around. For a moment, I didn’t see what he was talking about. Then a tall, angular shape flitted across the narrow bank running between the creek and the bottom of the bluff. It turned toward us, and suddenly I caught a glimpse of an enormous beak…
“Boid!” Carlos shouted.
A cold hand reached into my chest. He was right; one of the flightless avians that haunted the grasslands had found its way into the pass. Perhaps it had ventured there in search of small animals; whatever the reason, there it was, and within a few seconds we’d come within only a few yards of it.
“Don’t worry!” Chris shouted. “It’s on the shore! It can’t…!”
As if to defy him, the boid let out a terrible screech that echoed off the bluffs. Then, in one swift move, it leaped onto a midstream boulder and, raising its hooked foreclaws, bounded to another boulder closer to the middle of the channel. The boid saw us coming; rapids or no rapids, it wasn’t going to let a potential meal slip past.
“Gimme the gun!” Carlos took a hand off his paddle, began groping behind me for the automatic rifle he’d stowed next to the mast.
“Watch out!” Kuniko shouted. “Rudder left!”
An instant later the Orion’s bow sideswiped a boulder that we could have avoided if Carlos had been in control. The canoe tipped to the right; icy water rushed over the gunnels, and for a terrifying moment I thought we were going to capsize, but then its keel smacked the water again. We were safe, but not for long; now we were caught in the rapids and heading straight for the boid.
Something took hold of me. Survival intuition, perhaps, or maybe just common sense. Yet before I knew it, the rifle was in my hands.
“The gun!” Carlos yelled. “Wendy, gimme the gun!”
I ignored him as I flipped off the safety and toggled the infrared range finder. I raised the rifle and settled its stock against my right shoulder. A holographic sight appeared a few inches in front of my right eye; its bull’s-eye shifted from blue to red as I moved the rifle toward the left, trying to get a bead on the boid standing on the boulder ahead of us.
The canoe scraped against another boulder, throwing me off-balance. I steadied the rifle again, stared down the barrel. Barry was in the way; I couldn’t get a clear shot. And the boid was crouching on its long, backward-jointed legs, preparing to lunge at the canoe.
“Barry, get down!”
He threw himself forward across the bow deck, almost losing his paddle. The bull’s-eye strobed as I got a fix on the boid’s tufted forehead just above its angry parrot eyes.
I took a deep breath, held it, and gently pulled back on the trigger. There was only the slightest recoil as the rifle shuddered in my hands.
A loud bwaaap! and the boid’s cranium exploded.
Blood and cartilage sprayed across the rock. Its beak sagged open, almost as in surprise, as the creature jerked spasmodically. Then it toppled sideways and fell off the boulder. It hit the water with a loud splash; the current swallowed its corpse and swept it away.
I lowered the gun. Barry
sat up again; his mouth hung open in mute shock, then he remembered where he was and shoved the butt of his paddle against the boulder, pushing us away before we collided with it.
I heard a ragged cheer, looked around to see the Pleiades rushing past; Chris was grinning at me, and David was pumping the air with his fist. I caught a brief glimpse of Kuniko’s face; she was ashen, but managed to give me a quick smile.
Carlos said nothing. When I glanced back at him, he was struggling to get us back into the middle of the stream; he didn’t seem to want to look at me. I was about to say something when the canoe hit another pothole.
I grabbed the sailboard as a bucketful of cold water dashed me square in the face. When the canoe was steady again, I snapped the rifle’s safety, then braced it between my legs and held on to the sailboard. No time for discussion; we still had to do battle with the rapids.
We fought our way down the gorge, the canoes twisting left and right to avoid the rocks. Water was flung high into the air and came back down upon us as a steady downpour, drenching us to our skins. Cursing the river and each other, Kuniko and Chris, Barry and Carlos struggled to keep the boats from being smashed or overturned, while David and I clung to whatever we could grasp. My neck aching from being whiplashed back and forth, my ears deafened by the constant roar, I stared at my knees and prayed that death would be swift, if not painless.