by James Bow
“Simon,” I said. Then I thought, What was my name for him?
I clicked, « Clok-Taak-Tock-guh. » Silly Strange Boy. As a name, it seemed appropriate.
He stared at me. I tapped his chest. “Simon,” I said. Then, « Clok-Taak-Tock-guh. »
He blinked. I think he understood my meaning. He opened his mouth and curled his tongue. « Clok-tuk-Tock-guh. » “Simon.”
« Clok-TAAK-Tock-guh, » I corrected.
« Clok-TAAK-Tock-guh, » he replied, grinning. “Simon!”
He understood! I smiled. Then I took his wrist and pressed his hand to my chest. He tried to jerk it away, but I held it against me, and said my own name. « Ek-Taak-Tock-Taak. » I looked at him expectantly.
He nodded, and pulled his hand away. « Ek-Taak-Tock-Taak. » He smiled, and said something I did not understand. It sounded like “nise.”
I said my name again. « Ek-Taak-Tock-Taak. » I waited.
He said something, but it sounded wrong to be a name. A question?
Growling, I took his hand and pushed it to his chest. « Clok-Taak-Tock-guh. » “Simon.” Then I put his hand to my chest. « Ek-Taak-Tock-Taak! » Again I waited. « Come now, Silly Strange Boy, I named you. »
He worked his tongue. « Ek-Taak-Tock-Taak. » He pulled his hand away and looked at me. “Hmm … Eliza?”
I frowned. “Ee-la? Ee-la?”
“Eliza,” he said again. “Eeellliiizzzaaa.”
Open mouthed, then tongue on roof of mouth, strange whistle, then open mouth again. “Eeellliiisssaaa.” How did he make that buzzing? “Eelliisszaa—” Wait! “Elisza … Eliza!”
“That’s it! That’s great!” His smile was wide and bright.
I stood up and tapped his shoulder with my fist. “Simon.” « Silly Strange Boy. »
He reached for my hand in a strange ritual way. « Ek-Taak-Tock-Tack. » “Eliza.”
How strange it was to extend fingers as a gesture of friendship. Clearly, it must have been a while since his ancestors had claws.
* * *
Many more sleeps passed. The fallen hive had been picked over. Simon’s people left it, after a solemn ceremony that I felt uncomfortable watching, but the mechanical insects kept flying, as though they were looking for something to blame.
As Simon and I stepped over the little fence at the mouth of our cave, another mechanical insect buzzed low. Though we could not see it, we frowned up at it through the fog.
« What do they look for? » I asked.
Simon’s brow furrowed as he translated my words. After a breath he said, “I don’t know.”
I looked at the sky two breaths longer, then hefted my spear. “Come!” I marched into the forest. He clasped his own spear, and followed.
Simon clung to the strangest things, like the white coverings on his body. I saw even less sense in them as the sleeps passed. They picked up dirt. They were little shield against the plants and none against the heat, but he would not take them off. When I came upon him while he was washing, he would pull the coverings on quickly, once falling over in his haste.
But while Simon was silly, he could learn. His new spears were even better than the first one. I could trust him to turn the meat now. He was eager to get out of the cave to learn. So I decided to teach him, starting with how to hunt.
It was not long before I saw signs of our prey. « Look here, Silly Strange Boy. » I pointed.
Simon looked. His brow furrowed as if that would help him look harder. No understanding lit his eyes. How could he not see it? But I reminded myself to be patient.
« Look, » I repeated, trying to chop my words short so he could hear them better. « Track. Prey. We follow. »
I hated doing that. I sounded like a hatchling, or a hatchling mother. I was neither, and Simon was not my child.
Then he pointed, with one thin finger, at a leaf. It was still attached to the plant, but it had been pressed into the muddy ground by a foot. He looked up at me, hopefully. I smiled, then drew my hand across my mouth for silence. He followed me into the underbrush.
It was not long before I smelled the prey. Then I heard it growling as it brushed against a tree. I looked back, and saw Simon focused on following me. Had he heard the quarry at all? I nudged him, and told him to look ahead with a jerk of my head. He looked confused. Then the slink let out a growl that even someone underwater could have heard, and Simon understood.
But I was not finished with the lesson. « Smell, » I said. I gestured at my nose. He frowned at me, then breathed deep. He breathed deep again. Then he raised his shoulders at me, his I-do-not-know gesture.
Patience, I thought. How long had it taken me to learn how to sense the forest by smell?
I pushed two fern fronds apart, and there it was, a two-stride-long slink rooting along the forest floor.
It stopped and raised its head. I stiffened, and imagined myself a tree. Simon did the same. After a dozen-breath of listening silence, the creature lowered its head and plodded forward.
I smiled at Simon, then gestured: watch, learn.
I sized up my prey. I gripped the spear. Then I lunged from the bushes with a roar.
The slink had no chance. It was not full grown, and my spear was strong. The fight was short. I struck the killing blow and stood back as the slink flopped to the ground. I turned to Simon, flicking blood off my hand. I felt proud, strangely proud. I have hunted for as long as I could hold a spear, why should I feel so much happier about this kill?
Simon, however, looked uncertain. His pulled his lips back as he stared at the blood on my hands. It was the same look he made when he smelled the meat cooking. Then he looked up, and spotted a pulpfruit, hanging low from the tree. He pointed at it. « Eat? Safe? » he asked.
I frowned at him. « What? Do you have someone kill your meat? »
He blinked at me. « What? Not safe? »
I took a breath, then let it out slowly. « Yes, » I said. « That fruit is safe to eat. »
* * *
The boy may not have liked the idea of hunting, but he helped carry the slink back to our camp. We tied it to his spear, which we carried between us, and he put the fruits he had gathered in a carrying bag slung over his own shoulder. I led the way back to our homesite.
As we approached, I heard something wrong. I stopped, listening hard.
Simon, who was not paying attention again, ran himself into the butt of the spear. He rubbed his leg. “What’s wrong?”
I shot up a hand. Could he not see that I was listening? But then the voices got louder. Simon stiffened.
“… Something … Over here …”
Somebody else. “… What …?”
« They are in our cave, » I warned. But Simon did not understand me. How would his words go? “Cave,” I said. “People. In.”
Simon nudged me, pointed to the lizard, then at the ground. We set the slink down and I led the way forward.
We knelt behind the cover of ferns. Closer, the voices became clear. It sounded like a man and a woman, but unlike Simon, neither of them was speaking slowly so I could understand.
“Someone … here,” said the woman.
“… animal?” said the man.
“Fire,” said the woman. “… fence.”
Simon leaned forward, listening so hard he almost fell through the cover of the ferns. I grabbed him back, making the plants rustle. We froze, but the voices did not change. The people had not heard us.
I heard a babble of sounds from the man. I heard “ticktock,” “them,” and “on the ground.”
Then the woman said something that ended with “Tal,” even as her voice drifted further into the fog. Simon stiffened.
The man followed her, grumbling. “… into … Daedalon … sudden … charge …” His voice also faded.
« What are they saying? » I asked.
He looked afraid. « People look, » he said. « Find cave us. »
It was as I thought. But I knew how to deal with this. I brought out my blo
wpipe and put it to my lips.
He grabbed my wrist with an open hand. “No!”
I yanked my hand away. « Why? »
He bit his lips. This was important, I could tell, so I waited for the explanation. He spoke slow and soft. “If we attack, they will know we are here. If they do not report back, others will know. More will come looking.”
I did not understand “report,” but I saw his point. These people were from one of the invaders’ hives. If they never came back …
But the two were circling back. The man spoke somewhere near the cave mouth. “What … do? Wait …?”
“… long wait,” said the woman. “Can’t … like that idea …?”
I understood “wait.” Were we going to have to stay out here, hidden, while these two stayed at our camp? Looked at the carrying bags I had left behind? Touched my knives? I gripped my blowpipe tight.
Simon closed his fist and tapped my back gently. He had learned that this gesture soothed. I lowered myself behind the cover of the ferns and tried to soothe my anger. It was hard. “Why, no?” I whispered. “They cave. Hunt! Us! Danger!”
“More dangerous to kill them,” he whispered back.
I let out my breath. He was giving me hunting advice?
“And,” he added, “we don’t know how many—”
“Crew!” called a new voice, deeper in the forest. “Sound off!”
“One!” Yet another new voice.
“Two!” The man.
“Three!” The woman.
Numbers rang through the forest. They reached six. They were all around us.
“I thought there were more than two on patrol,” Simon muttered. “Six seems like overkill. We need to hide.” Then he looked at me. « Hide. »
Hiding was wise. I motioned for Simon to follow. We crept through the undergrowth. Simon tried to place his feet in my footsteps, keeping the rustling to a minimum. Fortunately, the forest was full of the cries and calls of other animals. The people did not hear us.
But I almost did not hear the man before it was too late. As his shape hardened out of the fog, I ducked down and pulled Simon after me. His face hit the mud and he spat dirt, loudly. He struggled to push himself up, but I pressed down on his back. He took my meaning and raised his head carefully.
It was a man, taller than Simon, dressed as Simon was, but in grey, not white. We were so close I could see a picture on his upper arm, of a notched wheel and a heavy stick. He also had a weapon that fired bigger blowdarts.
If we could see him, he could see us. Fortunately, the luck of the Elders held. He was not looking at the ground and there were many plants around to hide us.
Simon shifted. The rustle caught the man’s attention. His head snapped round. He stared in our direction, at the air over our heads. He took a step toward us.
He did not have to see us to find us. Stepping on us would do the same. Moving slowly, I brought out my blowpipe. This time, I looked at Simon. Surely I should use this now?
He shook his head. We waited.
The man took another step.
Then the first man’s voice carried through the fog. “Guys … going back. Log … location … next group … okay?” I only understood some of the words, but it seemed like he was ready to leave.
The other searchers muttered agreement. The man — so close I could have stabbed his boot — turned and moved through the underbrush toward our cave. Soon, the voices — all of them — vanished into the distance. Simon let out the breath he was holding.
I got up and strode to our cave. The embers of our fire were scattered, but my travel pouches remained in the corner. Stepping over, I saw that they had not touched my knives.
I looked at Simon. Anger tightened my chest. This may only have been a campsite, but somehow it had become like a home to me. The invaders had ruined it.
In Simon’s eyes, I saw that anger reflected. And fear.
He looked at the scattered kindling and the tossed ferns. Then he looked at me. « We must go. »
We did not say anything more. We gathered our things and got ready to leave.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LEAVING THE WORLD BEHIND
SIMON:
We struck out, in a grim mood.
I was relieved that Eliza had listened to me and not shot the security patrol with her blowpipe. That would have brought more search parties down on us. Besides, what had those guards done to us, really?
If Nathaniel had been out there, I might have snatched Eliza’s blowpipe and used it myself. But he hadn’t been out there. He had, however, sent them. Those security patrols might have been from Daedalon (I recognized their hammer and cog insignias), but they’d been talking about Nathaniel. Grumbling about him, actually, while they debated whether the cave belonged to ticktock monsters or Grounders.
“Ticktock monsters or Grounders, what are we doing looking for them?” the man had said. “If these are the monsters, they won’t like us invading their home. If these are Grounder terrorists, they can have this cave. Makes sense, doesn’t it? They want to be on the ground, let’s leave them on the ground.”
“Well, you can tell that to Tal,” the woman had drawled. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate your constructive criticism.”
The man followed her. “He barges into Daedalon and all of a sudden it’s like he’s running the place.”
So, Nathaniel had convinced Daedalon’s security office to send officers out here. But what for? Was Nathaniel looking for me? That didn’t make sense. He had no reason to think I was alive. Yes, Sergeant Gaal had said he’d seen me, but once I’d run, he’d said he’d been tricked by the fog. Even if Nathaniel thought that I was alive, why waste resources looking for me? For all he knew, all he had to do was wait for the forest to do me in.
So, maybe Nathaniel was looking for something else. But what? The security guards themselves weren’t sure.
Eliza was deep in thought. As we stopped in a clearing so I could catch my breath, she turned and made a “pay attention” click. She worked her mouth as if she had something hard to say. “You,” she managed. “You, no home.”
It sounded awfully final, put that way. I glanced aside. “Yeah. I have no home.”
Her eyes echoed the sadness, but mostly she looked — as she often did — frustrated with me. “You … no go home?”
I shook my head. “I can’t go back. Nathaniel’s there. I’d be put in prison. Possibly even shot, if Nathaniel got his way.”
She frowned. “Pri-son?”
“Yes, prison—” I stopped. How could I possibly explain prison? “It’s a … place … They put you there. A small place. Like a cave.”
« A homesite? » she clicked.
“No.” I bit my lip. “Like a cave, but … but you can’t get out.”
Her eyes widened. « Why? »
“Because they won’t let you out.”
« Why? »
“Because they don’t want you to.”
She cocked her head. « Why? »
I dropped my head against a tree and closed my eyes. “It’s too hard to explain. I’m sorry.”
Eliza paused. Then she repeated: “Sorry.”
That was a word we knew.
Sorry: You, no home.
Above us, carrying in the fog, came the buzz of ornithopters. I looked up. “They’re looking for something. If they find me … It’s not safe here. I need someplace to hide, until I can go back.” I looked back. “Where can I go?”
Eliza only looked at me, and waited. She knew the forest, but what good was that? I couldn’t tell her what I —
On the other hand, I was a map-maker’s son.
I took up my spear and cleared some ferns away with my foot, baring a patch of red mud. With my spear, I scratched lines in the mud. Soon enough, I got caught up in it. I could even feel my tongue press at the corner of my mouth — just as my mother’s used to do.
Eliza came closer, stooping over the map.
“Iapyx was here.” I u
sed the spear butt to push in a dot, though it was like marking a grave. “Nathaniel’s here, in Daedalon.” I pointed at the dot some distance from the other side of the gouge Iapyx had torn out of the forest. “I think I need to go here —” I pointed at the third dot “— to Octavia. I might have a chance to tell my story before Nathaniel comes. But —” It was a ridiculous plan; it was much too far. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure where we are.” Then: « Ek-Taak-Tock-Taak, where … we? »
Eliza looked at my map, then reached out a foot and tapped a spot with her toe, near where the tip of my spear was hovering. I nodded, pleased. I hadn’t been far off.
She looked at me. « What do you need? »
I wasn’t even sure what to ask. Finally, I said, « Help. They hunt. I not safe. Where I go? Stay safe? »
Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Hide,” she said. “From Na-than-i-el? He tall? Big man fire many blowdarts?”
That sounded like Nathaniel. Had she seen him back at the gouge? « Yes. »
She looked at my map a moment longer. Then she reached out with the tip of her spear and traced the air above the line representing one of the cliff faces. She brought it down on one of the deeper notches. « Here. »
“The niche?”
She looked at me, and tapped the spot again. « Here. »
“But —”
She poked the map again, in the same place. But I knew the niche was a mistake, a dead end. Everybody knew that. It would be just another cave to hide in and be discovered. « No go, » I clicked. « Nothing. »
Eliza smiled. She pushed the tip of her spear into the ground and started drawing, extending the line into the cliff, keeping it thin, and then turning it through a sharp bend.
My mouth dropped open as she kept going, widening the line into another chasm, and extending the chasm far south, until she ran out of ground near the edge of a pond. Finally, she pressed a dot at the end, just like the dots I’d used to mark my cities.
She pointed at the new dot with her spear. « There. We go there. »
* * *
Eliza marched ahead, across the chasm toward the niche. I kept my hand on my spear and followed her.
That was the way we walked together. She led and I followed. She pushed through the fog forest, confident. I tried to ignore the plants that lashed at my trousers. I was glad she knew where she was going, because I was lost within minutes.