A Rage for Revenge watc-3

by David Gerrold

  Had they come looking for me? They probably thought I was dead.

  Had Lizard mourned me?

  I felt sad about that. I didn't want her to be unhappy. I wanted her to be here with me, so I could share this with her. I could feel the difference in myself. I wanted her to feel it too. She would be able to stop being so damned angry and hostile all the time and let some of her joyousness out.

  That was a funny thought. If Lizard Tirelli ever let loose a real smile, she'd probably break her face. But it'd be worth it. If she let out even the tiniest piece of the joyousness inside her, she'd probably blind half of California with the glow.

  But she'd probably hate me if I tried to bring her to this. She wouldn't understand.

  Her survival mind would go crazy, gibbering like the ape it was descended from.

  Just the same, it was fun to think about. No, it wasn't. I'd go crazy when she started to sleep with the others. I'd only want her to sleep with me.

  But that was my survival mind. The hell with it.

  She wasn't here and I couldn't have her.

  And maybe I shouldn't have her anyway. Most of the time when I was around her, I was crazy. Or she was. Or everybody else was. Jessie and Frankenstein stopped me after breakfast one morning. They needed my help. Would I explain to them how to use the AM-280?

  I shrugged and followed them up to the main building. "What's the problem?" I asked. "Are the bikers back?" We'd been hearing motorcycle noises on the road for a week, not very often and usually late at night; but all three of the worms had become very agitated, prowling and sniffing and listening very alertly. Falstaff and Orson disappeared into the forest almost every evening.

  "Just taking precautions," said Jessie. "That's all." She unlocked the weapons and began laying them out on the table. "Better clean them first, Jim. Nobody's touched them since you arrived. "

  My survival mind twinged at that. Was this a test?

  "What's the matter?" asked Frankenstein.

  "Huh? Nothing. Why?"

  "Your face just clouded for a minute. Did the guns remind you of something?"

  "Uh, yeah-it wasn't important." I turned away to cover my doubt. Maybe it was important.

  Behind me, I could hear Jessie and Frankenstein exchanging a loud glance. They had to know.

  One of the guns was covered with . . .

  "I wish you'd cleaned this," I said.

  . . . Jon's blood.

  I reached for a rag and a can of oil. "And we should recharge the laser-sight."

  I worked the mechanism to pop the magazine out.

  It was a full magazine. This gun was still loaded.

  I slid the magazine back in. It clicked satisfyingly into place.

  The thought occurred to me: I could be out of here tonight.

  Jessie and Frankenstein were still sorting through the other weapons. They weren't paying any attention to me at all.

  I could kill them right now, if I wanted to.

  My survival mind said I should.

  But-I didn't want to kill them.

  I just wanted to leave.

  This had to be a test. Where were the worms?

  Damn!

  My survival mind wanted to leave. I didn't know what I wanted.

  I slid the safety off quietly, thought for a second, then slid it back on.

  Jessie turned around to me. "Can we use it?"

  I was studying the controls. "I wish you'd left it plugged in, but it's still got half a charge." There was something wrong here. I started to dismantle the weapon. "Why'd you leave it like this? Don't you know how to take care of a gun?"

  "Sorry," said Jessie. "You're the one who's got the military mind. "

  Frankenstein just grunted.

  "You're awfully trusting, Jessie," I said, handing her the magazine. "You handed me a loaded gun."

  I peered down the barrel--

  "No, we know who we're dealing with, Jim," she replied.

  --it was clogged with something. I poked at it with a cleaning rod.

  Chewing gum.

  I held it up for both of them to see. "But you had your doubts, didn't you?" If I had tried to fire the gun, it would have exploded in my hands. It would have been very messy and I would have been very dead.

  Jessie shrugged. Frankenstein grunted, "Everything is a choice. "

  "Cute," I said. I was annoyed. "I thought I was worthy of your trust. "

  "Jason trusts you," said Jessie. "That's his job. My job is to distrust. I'm in charge of defense. I have to be a skeptic."

  My expression must have said what I was thinking, because Jessie added, "I know. It feels wrong. We have so much love in this camp and so much passion for the future that to talk about weapons and defense and killing is a terrible mind-set. It's a long sour step south, and the cost of it is a terrible burden on all of us, Jason included. But the alternative is to put the new gods in jeopardy, and that isn't very good service at all. So, we do what has to be done and we try to forgive ourselves as well as those who would destroy us. It's an unhappy position, Jim; but it's the cost of survival."

  I nodded. "You don't need to explain it to me. I've heard the speech before. I've even given it myself. Just drop out the line about the new gods and put in 'The United States' instead."

  "Good," said Jessie. "Then you don't need to hear it again." She picked up the other rifle and began to expertly strip it and clean it.

  I thought so. She'd lied about that too. I concentrated on cleaning the weapon in my lap and didn't say anything else. Frankenstein slid the magazine across the table to me. I ignored it until I had finished checking every single mechanism in the rifle.

  Finally, I picked up the magazine and clicked it solidly back into the gun.

  If I wanted to kill them, now would be the time.

  Instead, I popped the magazine out again and put both it and the rifle back on the table.

  "It's fine," I said. "Only, you'll want to replace the propellant regulator before you try to use it. If you fire it without a propellant regulator, you're running the risk of blowing your head off."

  Jessie and Frankenstein exchanged pleased glances. "I told you he was smart."

  Frankenstein grunted and tossed me the PR-96-A regulator. It had been in his pocket the whole time. I disassembled the rifle again, clicked the assembly into place and reassembled the weapon.

  "I suppose you'd like the access codes now?" I grinned.

  "If you don't mind."

  Maybe I hesitated. Maybe I didn't. I was betraying a United States secret. I don't remember. I just did it.

  "No problem at all," I said. I picked up the gun and set the code keys; I passed it across for both of them to see.

  Somewhere in that moment, I made up my mind. These people didn't love me. Not really. Therefore, I would be justified in leaving.

  As soon as possible.

  They could probably see it on my face. I forced a stupid grin and held it. Not much better than a frown, but it would have to do. I finished the job without saying much else, and after that we went to lunch.

  I didn't say much to anyone during lunch, I was still thinking about what I had decided-wondering if that was what I really wanted to do, or if that was just my survival mind reactivating an old channel. Maybe I should talk to Jason about it, but I knew what he would say. "Handle it yourself, Jim. It's your head."

  Sure. I wanted to love. I wanted to be loved. These people talked love. They demonstrated love.

  But they didn't trust me with a loaded gun.

  I always thought trust was the foundation of love. Maybe it wasn't; maybe these people could love without trusting. I couldn't.

  But if I left, that would prove that they were right, I wasn't trustworthy. To prove that I was trustworthy, I would have to stay and be trustworthy.

  Damn! Everything around here was a paradox. Or a trap. After lunch, Jason pulled me to one side. "Jim, can you spare a moment?"

  "Of course."

  "Jessie says you're
pretty good with the weapons. You've come a long way. She trusts you. I want you to start carrying a gun and do some perimeter patrols with Falstaff."

  "I thought the patrols were a Tribal responsibility."

  "They are; and you can say no if you want to, because you're still technically a guest. But we're shorthanded and this is a very delicate time. Orrie's teaching the babies. He has to spend a lot of time with them. And we really could use your assistance."

  "It's that bad?"

  "We found some tire tracks and some footprints. We think someone has been spying on us. That's why we've been keeping the Chtorrans out of sight as much as possible. Jinko and Gregory-Ann are out looking for a new campsite right now. As soon as they find something, and as soon as the babies can travel, we're moving. I just hope it's not too late. We've got to take care of the children too."

  "Okay, Jason. When do you want me to start?"

  "Ten minutes ago. I should have had you patrolling last week. I'm sorry that we took so long to trust you. Get the keys from Jessie and go get your gun and some ammo.

  "You'll find Falstaff at the shady end of the gully. If anybody's going to come up that way, they'll come up the gully; it's the easiest path. Follow it down as far as you can. Probably to the power lines. Watch for footprints or evidence that somebody's been scouting the area. Then I want you to go check out the crest of the hill above the gully; there's an old firebreak that runs along the top that could be used as a road. Check it for tire tracks.

  "Now, listen, let Falstaff take the point, and don't let yourself be seen. One worm alone doesn't attract attention. A man with a worm does. Listen to me, Jim, this is imperative. Nobody can know we're here, so I want you to absolutely avoid all contact if you can. If you can't-even if you run into somebody accidentally-you'll have to kill them. I know you; you're going to want to save their lives. Don't. Don't try to enroll anyone; that's my job. Obliterate that alternative. Just take them down quickly and forgive yourself later.

  "Don't go into survival mode on this, Jim. Nobody is the enemy; we're all just martyrs to evolution. That's why I want you to stay out of sight, so you don't get put into a situation that'll drive you crazy. I don't want you firing on anybody or anything unless you personally are attacked. Even if somebody attacks Falstaff with a torch, don't go to his aid; it's more important that you come back and warn us. Don't try and be an army. Ray will come up and relieve you just before dinnertime. Got that?"

  "I got it. Do you really think there's someone up there?"

  "Probably not, but the Chtorrans have been jittery for a week, so let's see if we can find out why."

  "Right. Oh, and Jason . . . "

  "Yes, Jim?"

  "Thank you for this opportunity."

  He grinned. It was one of his world-famous, crack-open-the-sky-and-see-the-face-of-God, smiles. "You earned it, Jim."

  There was a young lady named Nancy,

  who liked having sex, plain or fancy.

  With lightning and thunder,

  and a profound sense of wonder,

  But not with a partner-much too chancy.

  17

  The Broom

  "Cleanliness is next to impossible."

  -SOLOMON SHORT

  I approached the gully cautiously. I didn't want to startle Falstaff. Jason said that Falstaff had made himself a nest in a bed of purple coleus. "We told him to be invisible. Most likely, all that you'll see will be his two big eyes sticking up out of the purple growth." Falstaff wasn't in his nest.

  I stepped into the cool shade enveloped by the thick, sweet, spicy smell and looked around. The nest was still warm. He'd been here only moments ago. Where could he have gone?

  I backed out of the nest cautiously.

  Falstaff wouldn't leave his hiding place without a good reason. That meant . . .

  Abruptly, a giant pink and purple Chtorran rose up from underneath me, making a deep rumbling, whirring sound as he did. "Hey-what!" He toppled me backward, I had to leap and catch myself. I fell back against the side of the gully, tumbling sideways and falling on my ass. The worm rose up above me, and then made a high-pitched, giggly noise and came down lightly at my feet. He'd been hidden so deep, I'd been standing on him.

  I jumped up, annoyed. "Jesus H. Christ on a bicycle! Don't do that, Falstaff! You scared the hell out of me!"

  Falstaff giggled again. It was an eerie sound. I wanted to slap him. But I didn't. He was so proud of himself. He was playing with me.

  "You asshole," I said. "Come here,"

  He flowed forward. I reached up and hugged his side, then reached up high and scratched his eye-stalks as hard as I could. Falstaff farted appreciatively: Ph-aatttt.

  "I love you, too," I said. What the hell, I could hold my breath for a couple of weeks. That wasn't too much to ask for the privilege of climbing all over the mountains with a creature that demonstrated an occasional affinity for the taste of human flesh. "Come on, Jason wants us to patrol. You want to go hunting?"

  "Whrrr. Rhrrr."

  "Right. Me too. That way, first."

  We headed down the gully together, side by side, a boy and his worm. When we got to the narrow part, Falstaff surged ahead and took the lead. It was steep and narrow, carved by years of uncontrolled erosion. I followed Falstaff down. He knew the gully better than I did. He flowed down through it. Underneath all that blubber, he had several hundred little feet. That made him much more sure-footed than me.

  We went all the way down to the old power-line towers-they were black and tilted at an angle; they'd been abandoned for years-and even a little bit beyond.

  We spotted a couple of wild bunnymen. They were naked and ugly and hooted rudely at us. One of them grabbed his penis and jerked his pelvis in a very suggestive manner, but Falstaff just yawned. He wasn't hungry. He responded with a bored chirrup and the bunnymen hopped back into the underbrush.

  And that was all the excitement we had in the gully.

  There wasn't anything up at the crest of the hill either to worry about. We followed the firebreak as far as we could and it was overgrown with weeds and strewn with rubble almost its entire length. Nobody was maintaining this area.

  We probably should have maintained the firebreak for our own protection, but we'd be moving soon, so it wasn't worth worrying about any more.

  We were almost ready to turn back when Falstaff burped. It was a funny kind of burp, so I walked over to see what he was chewing on.

  A broom.

  It had been hidden under the brush that Falstaff was munching on. He'd eaten half the bush and part of the broom as well. I grabbed it and pulled it out of his mouth; he didn't look annoyed.

  "Sorry," I said. "Let me see. You can have it back in a minute."

  It was just an old plastic broom-but it wasn't weathered. It hadn't been left outdoors for very long.

  Now why would someone leave a broom here? I walked a little ways farther on.

  Footprints. Leading down the opposite side of the hill. Right.

  The broom was for brushing them out, but whoever had been here had gotten lazy. He hadn't expected Falstaff and me to come this far.

  I'd have to tell Jason.

  But should I go back now? Or should I wait till Ray relieved me? I looked at my watch. Five o'clock. I could wait an hour. We could scout around a little bit more, then be back in the gully by six.

  The footprints led down the hill toward a loop of dirt road, an old logger's trail.

  Hm.

  It seemed to me that somebody had been deliberately scouting the camp. And very carefully too.

  Of course, that was a lot of supposition to hang on the evidence of a single plastic broom; but if they had been as careful as I would have been, we wouldn't even have found the broom.

  That's why I didn't think it was the army.

  The army would have come down on the camp with choppers and napalm and fire-balls. This had to be somebody else.

  At least, that was how I saw it.

  Falst
aff and I headed back toward the gully. We were late getting there. It was 6:40 before Falstaff was settled back into his nest. He went as deep as he could-he was going to play the same joke on Ray, if he could.

  I was a little annoyed. Ray should have been waiting for us; Jason said that most people didn't take punctuality seriously, as if being late wasn't the same as breaking your word. He could get real angry about people not being on time or completing a job when they said it would be done.

  Jason said that integrity starts with the littlest things, because that's what you build the big integrity out of.

  So, for someone to be even ten minutes late was unusual. Ray wouldn't have been late unless it was important. He'd explain to me when he got here.

  At 7:00, I started to get annoyed.

  They could have at least sent one of the kids up here to tell me what was going on.

  At 7:10 I got worried.

  I had the paranoid thought first.

  Maybe they'd decided to kill me. Maybe I was supposed to wait here with Falstaff until he got hungry.

  No, that was stupid. I knew better. Worms didn't need meat every day. Once a week was fine. A healthy worm could go several days without eating, and could last indefinitely just grazing on the countryside, eating nothing but trees.

  No. Maybe something else had happened.

  Maybe Jinko and Gregory-Ann had returned; maybe they were packing the camp to move. In that case, Ray wouldn't need to come and relieve me until the last truck was ready to roll.

  But still, somebody should have come to let me know.

  By 7:20, I'd made up my mind. If no one came by 7:30, I'd head over the hill and find out why they'd forgotten about us. Me. At 7:35, I left my post. I broke my word, I abandoned my responsibility and I headed over the hill. "You better wait here, Falstaff. "

  The worm chirruped and disappeared into his hole.

  The old motel looked quiet as I approached. Just as I thought. Everything was normal. I could hear them partying frorn here. They'd forgotten all about me. I had the right to be annoyed. Jason put such high emphasis on people keeping their word to each other, and nobody remembered to tell Ray he had to come and relieve me.