'Yeah, I know the type.' I remembered the pause in Edlon's speech. Though I felt a bit uneasy about asking, I did it nevertheless. 'You've mentioned the locals. Are they hostile?'
Such a simple question, but it awoke a whirlwind of emotions which passed under the surface of Edlon's face in a couple of fleeting moments. I saw that and knew that I had struck something deep. Something better left unturned.
'Not really,' Edlon said. 'Just stay clear of them and don't let them past our cabins.' His pause was pregnant with something, but Edlon aborted it and said, 'Sawmill guards don't like them near the facility.'
Suddenly I felt ashamed of my inquiry. Blood rushed to my face, and it felt like burning. I could clearly see that Edlon was thrown off kilter, so I chose to drop the subject. 'Good to know,' I said. 'Roomie.'
Edlon smiled again and then slapped himself on the forehead. 'The sawmill, right! The facility is to the south of here, pretty far. You’re supposed to give them all possible assistance, but don't forget that you are working for the army. Don't let them boss you around too much. Got it?'
‘Yep.’
‘Well, that’s it, I think.’ Edlon’s eyes darted back and forth as he was thinking and then he grinned again. ‘See ya. If you have any questions or get bored, just call me. Our coordinates are preprogrammed.'
I smiled back. 'Thanks for everything, Edlon. Fly safe.'
Edlon nodded his head and smiling, crow’s feet appearing near his eyes. Though we were around the same age, he looked much older in that moment. With that, he walked away and got into the floater.
I stood on the roof of my new home, hands in pockets, and watched the metal carriage get into the air. It rose up and up until it disappeared into the light. The sun blinked, and the floater was out in the open again.
I looked around the empty platform, sighed and went inside. However little stuff I had brought here, it needed unpacking nevertheless.
Safunian Hospitality
A couple of days passed. I was slowly growing roots at the cabin.
It was surprisingly clean inside. Almost amazing, considering that only men had lived here. Alone. The secret was soon revealed. When I moved the couch, I accidentally struck the table. A bottle of water that was standing on it dropped on the floor and the contents spilled out. I cursed under my breath and picked it up. I was about to go to the bathroom for the rag to wipe the spill when faint buzzing reached my ears.
A panel in the wall slid to the side, and a cleaning droid rolled out. Turned out, it was a self-cleaning cabin. However, another surprise presented itself. The robot got stuck.
Half of it came out and the other half remained in the wall. The poor thing buzzed and shuddered, trying to get free, its manipulators waving in the air. I tried to pull it out by the hands, but it didn't budge. Disgruntled, I kicked the lousy janitor, and by doing that resolved the problem. The machine got free and went about its business.
The droid cleaned up the spill and returned to its place in the wall. Since I didn't really need such help, I took the bedside-table and put it in front of the droid's dwelling. I'd rather clean my mess myself than be a nanny for such a clumsy thing.
The monitoring system also worked by itself. A camera was always recording and sending video to the main computer. If the computer saw something strange, it sent me a signal. In the beginning, I tried to sit and watch all the feeds, but eventually gave up on that. It was just too tedious and pointless; staring at a screen and waiting for something to happen. Instead, I grabbed my rifle (the second rule of the forest — never go anywhere unarmed), went down to the garage and started one of the scooters. A good ranger should know his land.
The door opened, and the light scooter with its rider flew out. Following Edlon's advice, I didn't push the pedal too hard and flew several feet above the greenery. Neither bushes, nor branches posed a threat to me. I wove between the huge tree trunks like a bird in flight. I've never felt such bliss in my entire life. The desert was good, more or less, but the forest immediately won me over with its majesty, serenity, and the coolness of its shadow.
For some reason I had no fear of nature. No monsters in the bushes, no scary shadows creeping along the ground. My Dad used to say nature didn't tolerate evil. If you didn't have it inside you, there was nothing to be scared of. In the emptiness, there was nothing to harm you, but yourself. I remembered these words well. To me, Nature was, if not a friend, an ally. I heard a bird in the distance calling its friend and nodded in return, goose bumps running up my arms.
Most of my territory was occupied by dense forest with an occasional clearing here and there, but on Ort's side there was a glade. That was the swamp. It stretched deep into his sector. I imagined from above it must look like a strip of bare land, all trees shaved off by a giant blade. From the ground it looked like an overgrown field with tall grass growing here and there and an occasional tree sticking out. I knew it was all a facade. What looked like solid earth was in reality dirty water with a fine layer of soil on top. One step in the wrong place, and you're gone.
I didn't go to the river, it was further to the east, somewhere in Edlon's sector. Even though I'd spent several months in the desert, I wasn't so hot about seeing a mass of water. Just not my cup of tea.
I especially liked one place on the border of the wild-lands. There, large rock formation had risen above the surface, creating a small crag. What caught my eye was how it leveled out to a flat top high above ground, no trees surrounding it. You could only reach the summit by air. I decided to seize the opportunity and use my new discovery as a camp for the night. I was sure I had a tent at home.
Wasting no time, I turned the scooter and went to make sure.
The tent was there. I started packing for a night out. As I zipped the overnight bag shut, my communicator made a noise. The computer needed my attention. I went upstairs to find a message informing me that HQ was expecting a written report from my sector. Sadly, this function was not automatic. My camping trip would have to wait.
Having finished that, I quickly checked the cameras and the comm signal and hurried out to the woods. As soon as I left the garage, a wave of fresh air hit me and I felt invigorated. The air was warm and the birds were singing, foretelling a pleasant evening ahead.
My scooter softly landed on the rocky summit. I dismounted and propped it up on the standing pegs, then dropped the bag and took out the tent. At first, erecting it seemed problematic; no ground to stick the pegs in. However, each peg was tipped with a suction cup, so I used those. The rest was easy. The crag's top was so flat, you could place an egg in the center and it wouldn't roll.
It was a long time till the sundown, so I took off his raincoat and laid it on the rock. I dropped onto it and looked up. I watched the distant crowns of the trees and beyond them, white clouds passing by. Such a serene picture held my attention for a shorter period of time than I would have expected.
I sat up and looked around. There was a group of animals ahead of me. They were the size of an average dog and were a weird mix of a squirrel and a monkey. All black, except the white bellies and tassels at the ends of long ears. Their faces were bare, with bulging eyes on the sides. I instantly recognized the beltysh in them, the animal I was supposed to protect from fur poaching.
The beltysh lived in the midsection of the forest. Far from the crowns occupied by birds, but above the ground where the predators prowled. They made hollows in the trees and used them as their nesting places. Beltyshes were rather peaceful animals that survived by sticking together.
The group I watched was gathering fruits on the ground. They worked together, digging it from the soil. From time to time they would chatter about their problems and then return to work.
I took a bag of snacks out and opened it. It was corn flakes with some faint flavor between bacon and peanut. I broke off a piece and threw it to the group. They didn't notice it and kept to their business. I didn't feel cross at them and munched the snacks myself.
Suddenl
y I heard scraping, and a beltysh landed in front of me. It must have jumped from the nearby tree. The animal's entrance startled me, but I tried not to show it. I remembered that they weren't carnivorous or aggressive. So I took some more snacks and threw it on the rock before the visiting beltysh.
The animal cautiously looked at me and then at the food. Its nose twitched, obviously interested, but it didn't approach. I remembered a trick I had seen on TV.
I covered one eye with my palm. For animals, two closely set eyes mean a predator. Seeing a one-eyed creature before it, the beltysh mustered courage to approach and took the food. The animal ate it with crunching and looked at me asking for more. I chuckled and gave the treat. There was no harm in getting friendly with my charges.
Shouts of fear ruined the idyllic scene. I swung to the side and watched the animals scattering to the trees. The reason for that could be clearly seen on the ground: Tikili, a wolfish animal with antenna protruding from its nose, was mauling one beltysh. Yellow blood gushed into the air and froze in beads on the predator's brown coat.
Watching the scene of the massacre, I felt indignant. Such villainy made bile rise in my stomach and I felt sick. The dead beltysh looked so miserable and defenseless, like a child. I looked at the agitated beltysh near me, at the tikili on the ground and grabbed my rifle.
A shot rang out in the woods, echoing off the trunks. A piece of soil near the tikili exploded into the air. The animal jumped, dropping its prey and fled the scene. The beltysh near me screamed at the sound of the report and jumped off the rock.
In a matter of minutes I was left alone. I sighed and lowered the rifle. I knew that I shouldn't have intervened, but I just couldn't sit there, apathetic to the misery of the small peaceful animals. What was worse — they couldn't possibly comprehend that I was on their side. For all they knew, I was just another predator, the one with a booming voice. I remembered Edlon's words about the thundergods and smiled mirthlessly.
I tucked the rifle into the tent and started preparing to sleep. The sun was going down, and I wanted to get this stuff done while it was still bright.
When I was finished, I lay on the bag and read an ebook from the wrist communicator by projecting it on the wall of the tent. So the night came down.
The forest darkened and became even more silent. The animals had hidden away, and the night birds took their place, preparing for the hunt.
I wished them all good night and zipped up the tent.
Sleep came quickly, but my dreams were weird as shit.
I was sitting in the barracks with Ned. He'd started in again about his house. I sneezed, and he took a small beltysh monkey out of his pocket, rubbed it on his shoulder with a swishing sound, and started to eat it like an apple. I looked at him and felt the emptiness growing inside. Ned finished his meal and threw a mesh of bone and fur on the floor. It landed in a puddle and disappeared under water. The room was getting more humid with every passing moment. I asked Ned what was happening, but he only vanished into thin air solemnly shaking his head. Water started dripping from the ceiling. Paint was peeling off the walls. I watched as fungus slowly consumed everything around me.
I woke abruptly to the sound of an endless drumroll on canvas. I looked around and saw that the wall of my tent was whipping in and out. I grabbed my rifle and crouched to the entrance. I didn't really expect to find an enemy there, but being cautious wouldn't have been out of place. I unzipped the tent with the left hand while holding the rifle ready and took a peek outside. A bucket of water hit me in the face.
It was pouring, a strong wind blowing in the direction of the wild-lands. I cursed and hastily assembled my belongings. Folding the tent proved particularly difficult as it was all wet and bubbly. In the end, I somehow managed to shove it into the bag.
The scooter was swaying in the gusts of wind, but didn't fall; the pegs held fast. I stuffed the wet bag into the basket behind the seat and slung the rifle over my shoulder, barrel down. I sat on the swaying scooter and took a deep breath. I cautiously removed one peg, and the metal steed immediately fell to the side. I stopped the fall with my leg and started the engine. It hummed and clicked, but there was no propulsion.
I shook the handles in frustration. The scooter started to gain power, but at the same time slipped along the wet rock. I put both feet on the scooter and jerked it towards me. Turned out that this simple action was enough to get it properly started. The machine gained altitude, and the footrests retracted automatically. Unfortunately, the gushing wind shook the scooter and listed it to one side, so I had to twist the handles to steady it.
Only one task remained — get home.
The canopy caught most of the rain, but it had gotten so dark that I was flying almost on luck alone. And, as luck would have it, I was flying against the wind. I drew on my goggles, pulled the hood deeper around my head and pressed on. Peering into the pitch-black darkness, I finally remembered my headlights, and I turned them on. A tunnel of brightness appeared in the murk, catching rain drops out of it. A bird scared by the light jumped in my face. I shrieked and tried to smack it away with one hand. This was a mistake.
With only one arm in control, and my left one at that, the handlebars became insolent, veering sharply to the right and sticking there. The scooter twirled round and round, avoiding the surrounding trees by some miracle. I tried to steady it. I jerked the handles toward me and felt the machine fall backward. Trying to compensate, I threw my weight back onto the handles, but the scooter was too close to the ground. The engine made a screeching sound and the scooter's nose plowed through the tall grass. A fine drizzle hit me in the face.
Suddenly, I was in the open. The machine kept jumping and kicking like a wild horse. My hands slipped and I fell to the ground. Pushing myself up on my elbows, I watched as my mount bucked and somersaulted in the air, then plunged into the wet ground with a smack.
I got up and ran to it, slipping on the wet grass and nearly falling. The machine shook, but didn't move. The earth held it firmly by the nose. I stopped a few steps short. The ground in front of me bubbled, and my scooter started to submerge. It was floating earth.
I was about to rush to its rescue when I realized that the rope I needed was in the bag. Which was in the basket. Which was looking at me from the back of the scooter. Which was sinking into the bog. I stood there, watching helplessly as Safun ate my scooter.
So. I was alone, at the edge of my sector, with just my rifle and devices that were on me. Oh yeah, and it was raining like hell, and the wind was skinning me alive. I could have called Edlon with my wrist communicator, and he would have picked me up, but God knows how long I would have to listen to his ridicule afterwards. No way would he pass up the opportunity to give me shit. I could have called Ort, but we weren't acquainted, and I was wary of having this be our first meeting.
This meant I was in for a long walk. It was still dark out, but it was morning. I would probably be home by evening — maybe earlier, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. The important thing was to reach the cabin before nightfall. Not wanting to delay any longer, I set off.
Reentering the woods, I unslung my rifle and released the safety. I pressed forward, pushing branches out of the way with one hand and aiming with the other. It felt like I was back in basic training. The only thing missing was the drill sergeant yelling in my face; instead, I heard only the drum of water on leaves, and the wind howling among the trees.
The ground was soft and made slurping noises every time I lifted my feet, but it was solid enough to walk without falling knee-deep in the mud. I tried not to think about the surface I was stepping on. My goggles fogged up, and I took them off to wipe. The moment I did, the wind hit my eyes and tears streamed down my cheeks. I had to turn around and hastily put them back on.
Movement on the right. Water falling from a bush.
I jerked the rifle up, seeking a target. Nothing. Maybe it was only my imagination. Just too much water on the leaves. Not a predator. Not at all.
<
br /> I continued walking. On the outside, I was showered in cold water, rapidly dried by the icy wind. Under the jacket, I was sweating, T-shirt clinging to my chest. I felt a steady stream of sweat running down my spine. Hello, pneumonia!
Drop it, I thought. Remember who you are and where you are. You're Wealder; the forest is your friend. Play by its — HIS — rules and don't stop. One leg in front of the other. Left, right, left. My body; a dynamo; a perpetual motion machine. I can walk the whole planet if that's what it takes. Clear your head, let the muscles do all the work.
I don't know how for how long I kept up like that. The trance was broken when my boot hit an exposed root. I jerked and shuddered, as if waking from a nap, and looked at the communicator. The cabin was close; a little over half-a-mile before me. My mouth was dry, I licked the raindrops off my lips. One dash, and I would be there.
I tried to move forward, but the root pulled me back. I looked down to see the tip of my boot was stuck. I tried to free it, but the tree wouldn't let go. From behind, I heard a rustling. I turned and aimed. Nothingness greeted me once again. I puffed and went back to working my boot free and heard it again. Closer now. I screamed and fired into the air. Nothing jumped out of the grass and ran away. I was surrounded by a bubble of silence.
Over there, in the grass! Something moved! Some creature all black and eyeless… The tree next to me creaked. I felt the soft fingers of madness touch my mind. I sucked air through my teeth and started butting that fucking root with my rifle. Splinters flew everywhere. I pulled… and finally, the boot was free. Except for the sole near the tip — that was torn off. It hung from the exposed foot, mocking me with its grin.
When I saw that "wound," I felt an adrenaline rush and plunged ahead. I ran uphill and down dale, through bushes and moats like a tank on a warpath. The world around me stretched into one blurry streak.
Under the Canopy Page 2