Coyote Frontier

by Allen Steele

  “If that were so, don’t you think you would have found them already?” She shook her head. “Chirreep usually build their dwellings on the ground. The ones on Barren Isle live in sand-domes, and the group we found on Midland burrowed holes in the side of a cliff.” That was getting close to something she didn’t like to discuss, so she went on. “This tribe might be arboreal, sure, but I’m willing to bet that if you haven’t found any abandoned tree houses in the blackwoods you’ve cut down, then that’s not where they’re living.”

  “If you say so.” He shrugged. “You always figured they’re…y’know, like apes or something.”

  “They’re not animals,” Susan said quietly.

  The trail brought them to the top of the log flume, where a stream trickled down the side of the mountain. It had been diverted to a small pond just above the flume where a spill-dam had been erected; a rotary winch positioned on top of the wall raised and lowered a narrow gate above the mouth of the flume. Hawk explained to her that, when the crew was ready to send logs down the mountain, they opened the dam’s gate and allowed the pond to flood the trough. “Can’t use the flume when we’ve had a dry spell,” he said, “but after we’ve had enough rain, we can send logs all the way to Mill Creek…provided, of course, that the treecrawlers haven’t played with the flume again.”

  “Your father said something about that last night.” Susan studied the dam; about eight feet high, it was built of mud-packed logs, the pond behind filmed over with floating algae. “Have they ever sabotaged this?”

  “Once.” Hawk pointed to a place at the bottom of the dam where a small hole had been patched. “They pried open a couple of logs here. Didn’t do much damage, except for causing the water to drain out. We found the hole and plugged it up, and they’ve stayed away ever since. It was after that when they took to knocking down support beams.”

  Susan frowned. “Doesn’t make sense. Chirreep are usually shy of people…they only come around when they think we have something worth stealing. This is the first time I’ve heard of them trying to destroy anything we’ve built.”

  “You said this was a different tribe. Maybe they do things differently. Of course, you’re the expert.”

  “No one’s an expert on chirreep. Except maybe another chirreep.” She patted the side of the dam, then turned away. “C’mon, let’s go. Maybe we’ll find something farther up the mountain.”

  The woods became more dense as they climbed uphill, and before long they couldn’t hear the sound of the loggers at work. The trail followed the stream for a while, then gradually cut away, making a series of switchbacks that meandered up the mountainside. The slope gradually became steeper as well, and by late morning they found themselves approaching a line of sheer granite bluffs, sixty to a hundred feet high, that loomed over them as a vast wall of rock. The summit was now less than a thousand feet away, but here the trail came to an end; if they wanted to reach the mountaintop, they would have to find their own way.

  Susan found a large boulder near the base of the bluffs; she climbed on top, then sat down and pulled out her binoculars to study the escarpment. As carefully as she searched, though, she couldn’t find any indications of cliff dwellings. Of course, the chirreep might have concealed their homes behind tree branches, but still…

  “Ever seen any smoke coming from up here?” she asked.

  “Now and then, sure.” Sitting beside her on the boulder, Hawk took a drink from his canteen. “We get lightning storms up here all the time. Sometimes they cause brush fires.” Then he looked at her askance. “Oh, c’mon, you can’t be saying…”

  “They know how to make fire. That might have been what you saw, and just didn’t know it.”

  “You’ve seen that?”

  “Uh-huh.” She trained her binoculars on the top of the bluffs, searching for signs of chimney holes.

  “Y’know, I’ve heard—” Hawk stopped himself. He was quiet for a minute or so before he went on. “Mom once told me that you were kidnapped by them. A long time ago, back during the Revolution.”

  Susan lowered her binoculars. Damn. She should have known this was coming. Aunt Marie had been there, after all, and this was a story she would’ve told her children, perhaps late at night when she was putting them to bed. No sense in denying it. In fact, maybe it would help him understand.

  “It happened, yeah,” she said. “On Mt. Bonestell, just outside Shady Grove. I was a little girl then, about Rain’s age. Your Uncle Carlos and Aunt Wendy brought me there, along with the rest of the children from Defiance. They were trying to keep us safe from the Union Guard, but when we got to Shady Grove—”

  “I know the rest. Some treecrawlers…chirreep, I mean…grabbed you just outside the stockade and took you up the mountain. Your folks came to rescue you.” He peered at her. “You mean it’s true? It’s not just a story?”

  “No, it really happened,” she said, yet that wasn’t all that had occurred. Hawk didn’t know how that tribe of chirreep had fallen under the sway of Zoltan Shirow, the leader of a religious cult who’d come to Coyote. When his original flock had perished on Mt. Shaw, Zoltan had fled into the Gillis Range; eventually he’d found the chirreep, who’d come to worship him as a god. Her parents had kept this part of the tale from everyone, and had sworn her to silence, because one of their best friends was Ben Harlan, who’d been Zoltan’s guide during their doomed trek across the Midland mountains. Ben had lost the woman he loved on Mt. Shaw, and Susan’s parents wanted to let him continue to believe that Zoltan was dead. Not that it mattered much in the long run, for Zoltan had doubtless been killed during the eruption of Mt. Bonestell, along with the chirreep tribe, yet his involvement in that incident was something of which very few people were aware, even to this day.

  “That’s how I got interested in the chirreep.” She pulled out her canteen, unscrewed its cap. “When they took me inside their cliff dwelling, I got a look at how they lived. Not much, of course. I was a little kid, scared out of my wits. But I saw tools, clothes…”

  “Oh, c’mon.”

  “You still think they’re animals, don’t you?” She took a sip of water. “Far from it. More likely they’re much like hominids, early predecessors to homo sapiens, except maybe a little more advanced. They know how to fashion tools, control fire, build dwellings…it even appears that they have some sort of language.”

  “Yeah. Right.” He looked away. “Next thing you’re going to tell me, they’re building starships.”

  Susan let out her breath, gazed at the forest surrounding them. “You know,” she said after a while, “you’re a pretty smart kid.” Hawk smirked, but she went on. “No, I mean that, really. There wasn’t enough in Clarksburg to hold your interest, so you moved up here with your father, but it’s pretty clear that you’ve seen through him as well, and I don’t see you becoming a lumberjack.”

  “Logger.” He scowled. “We don’t use that other word.”

  “Logger, okay. But is that what you really want to do with your life?” She put the cap back on her canteen. “As for the chirreep, I’m beginning to wonder about why they’ve taken to knocking down—”

  “Shh!” Hawk suddenly held up a hand, hushing her. He cocked his head, as if listening to something in the forest. “Just heard something.”

  Susan held her breath, quickly glanced about. She had little doubt that the boy’s senses were more attuned to the mountains, yet so far as she could tell, nothing had disturbed the late-morning solitude save for an autumn breeze rippling through the trees. When she looked back at her companion, though, she was surprised to see that he’d drawn a weapon from his pack: a flechette pistol, the type once carried by the Union Guard during the occupation. Hundreds of firearms like this had been left behind when the Union was forced off Coyote, yet nonetheless she was surprised to see one in the hands of someone so young.

  “Are you sure?” she whispered. “I didn’t—”

  “I did.” Hawk squatted on the boulder, gun clasped in his
right hand as his eyes darted left and right. “Thought it was behind you, but—”

  “But maybe it was behind you,” a new voice said.

  Startled, Hawk twisted around on his hips, almost losing his balance as he swept his gun toward the figure who’d just come from behind a briar only a few yards away.

  “Easy now,” the stranger said, slowly raising his hands to show that they were empty. “No reason to get excited.”

  “What…who are you?” The pistol trembled in Hawk’s hands. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was about to ask you the same.” A quick smile as the stranger’s gaze traveled to Susan. “On the other hand, I pretty much know that already. If you’re looking for chirreep, you might try to keep your voices down. I heard you a hundred yards away. If I could, so can they.”

  “Sorry. Weren’t expecting to find anyone else up here.” Susan relaxed a little, but not much. The newcomer was about her age, tall and lean, with dark brown hair beginning to grow long and a beard that looked as if it’d been only recently cultivated. He wore a homespun serape and a wide-brim catskin hat, and a rifle was slung over his right shoulder. There was something about him that seemed vaguely familiar, yet she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “If you know so much about us…”

  “Only said I know why you’re here. Like I said, your voices carry.” He glanced again at Hawk, who was still pointing the gun at him. “That’s rather rude, you know. Put that away before you hurt someone.”

  “Hawk…” Susan glared at the boy, and he reluctantly lowered the pistol. If she’d known he’d packed a gun, she would have made him leave it behind. “I’m Susan Montero,” she went on. “I’m a naturalist, conducting research for the Colonial University. This is my cousin Hawk Thompson. He’s my guide.”

  “How interesting.” The stranger put his back against the tree, folding his arms together as he casually studied them. “You’re related then…and I take, Master Thompson, that you’re of the same family that owns the timber company.”

  “Uh-huh.” It was plain that Hawk still didn’t trust him, for he didn’t return the gun to his pack. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “That’s because I didn’t give it.” He regarded them both for a moment, as if trying to make up his mind whether to explain his presence, then he stepped away from the tree. “Very well, then. Pleased to make your acquaintance. Just wanted to know who was making all the racket.” He started to turn away. “I hope you have a delightful hike. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

  “Wait a minute.” All at once, Susan remembered where she’d seen him before. A couple of months earlier, shortly after the new starship from Earth had arrived. The first group from the ship to land in Shuttlefield had included a senior officer who’d mysteriously vanished that same evening. Susan had met him only briefly, but all the same…

  “You’re Jonathan Parson,” she said. “The second officer of the Columbus.”

  The stranger stopped. “You’re mistaken. Name’s John Carroll. I used to work at the mill before I moved up here to homestead.”

  Susan looked at Hawk, and he shook his head. “I haven’t heard of anyone homesteading on this side of the mountain,” he said. “You got that satphone?” Susan nodded, then reached down to take it from her pack. “Shouldn’t take but a minute to check with the company office,” Hawk continued. “They’ve got records for all former employees.”

  “Good idea.” Susan handed him the phone. “While you’re at it, call the blueshirts, too. They’ve been looking all over for Parson since he—”

  “Okay, all right.” Turning to face them, Parson held up his hands. “No need to get smart about it.”

  “And so the truth comes out.” Susan took the phone back from Hawk. “So what are you doing up here? Besides hiding out, I mean.”

  “I don’t know what you—”

  “C’mon. You know something about the chirreep…you just said so yourself.” He feigned a confused shrug as if to deny this, but she shook her head. “You called them chirreep, not treecrawlers. That’s pretty specific knowledge for someone who’s been here for…what, little more than two months?”

  “Yeah. Not only that, but you also said they could’ve heard us coming.” Hawk nodded toward the bluffs. “Makes me wonder if you know where they live.”

  “And if I did, why should I tell you?” Parson gave him a stern look. “Your family is destroying their habitat. All I have to do is go down the trail a couple of miles, and I can show you—”

  “Seen it already,” Susan said, “and I don’t like it any more than you do.” Hawk stared at her, but she ignored him. “Look, I’ll be straight with you. My school sent me out here to investigate reports that chirreep have been attacking logging operations. The company wants to put a stop to this, but I’m more interested in finding out the reason why. If you can help us—”

  “Why should I?”

  “Then I’ll make sure you’re left alone.” She held up the satphone. “No calls to the blueshirts, and the company doesn’t have to know one of their former workers is where he ought not be.” She glanced at Hawk. “Isn’t that right?”

  Hawk was quiet for a moment, then he nodded. “Sure. Doesn’t matter to me.”

  “So your secret is safe,” Susan went on. “And if you know something we don’t, maybe we can work together to find a way to protect the chirreep. If you heard everything I said, then you know I mean them no harm.” She paused. “So what do you say?”

  Parson gazed at the silent forest around them. For a moment, it almost seemed as if he was listening to voices only he could hear. “Let me think about it,” he said at last. “I’ll get back to you later.”

  “If you need my satphone code…”

  “I’ve got other ways. Now, go back to your camp. You’ll hear from me later…if you hear from me at all.”

  And then he turned away once more, walking back the way he’d come. Susan tried to observe which direction he was headed, yet within moments he was lost among the trees, disappearing into the forest as if he’d never been there.

  “Oh, man, that’s weird.” Hawk let out his breath, then he looked at Susan. “You really think he knows something?”

  She slowly nodded. “Yes, I do.” In fact, she was counting on it.

  That evening, once she’d set the table and helped Tillie serve dinner, Susan ate alone in the kitchen. She didn’t want to talk to anyone, lest they ask her what she’d found on the mountain that day, and she’d made Hawk swear not to tell Uncle Lars about meeting Jonathan Parson. Besides, she had work to do.

  So she sat cross-legged on the upper bunk of Tillie’s bed, nibbling at a plate of goat cheese and sourdough bread as she studied her pad, reviewing reports her colleagues at the university had previously written about the behavioral patterns of the chirreep. As she suspected, there was precious little useful information. Even after all these years, not much was known about the chirreep; most of their knowledge had been derived from chance encounters in the wild, and even then much of that was hearsay and rumor.

  Four years ago, before she’d joined the university, the biology department had sent an expedition to Barren Isle, where her father had discovered what he’d then called sandthieves. According to Zoltan Shirow—the first and, so far, the only human known to have successfully communicated with them—this tribe was known as the chirreep-ka; as Carlos Montero had later observed, they were smaller and more primitive than the ones who’d abducted her from Shady Grove. Yet they were just as elusive; although the expedition had no trouble locating their sand-domes, the chirreep-ka remained in hiding the entire two weeks the expedition spent on the island. Remote cameras and motion detectors were set up, camouflaged hunter’s blinds were built near the domes, food and trinkets were set out as bait, and then the scientists waited for days and nights on end for the tiny aboriginals to show themselves. Yet save for two or three brief instances when the scientists happened to spot a small form scurrying through the brush, the c
hirreep-ka went unseen. It was as if the sandthieves had known they were coming and had resolved not to reveal themselves, even if it meant facing slow starvation. In the end, realizing that they were causing harm to their subjects, the expedition had left Barren Isle with little more knowledge of the chirreep-ka than they had before they’d arrived.

  No. The answer to this mystery didn’t lie in previous research, or in the academic theories of her colleagues. She had to dig much deeper than that. Like it or not, she had to return to the nightmare she’d endured as a child.

  Ignoring the boisterous voices coming from the other side of the mess tent, Susan straightened her back, clasped her hands together in her lap, and shut her eyes…

  Wandering away from Shady Grove. Curious to see what lay outside the stockade walls. She’s a little girl, and it’s a lovely morning in late winter. Her mother and father aren’t around, but what harm could come from taking a walk by herself? So she slips away through the front gate, heads for the woods near the settlement. But she’s not alone, and she doesn’t know this until she suddenly finds herself confronted by a brown-furred creature almost as tall as she is…

  Harsh laughter from nearby. Distracted, Susan briefly opened her eyes, then shut them. Go back. Back through the years. Be brave; they’re only memories, shadows of the past…

  A surge of panic. Trying to flee, only to find another one blocking her path. And now a third, coming in from behind to put a hairy hand around her mouth before she can scream. A brief struggle, an attempt to escape, but they’re stronger than she is, and finally all she can do is let them take her.

  A forced run through the forest. The cold winter sun slashing through the branches. Small hands shoving her, pushing her, never letting her rest. Climbing the base of Mt. Bonestell, leaving the settlement far behind, even as she hears voices calling her name somewhere far behind. She loses her cap by the side of a frozen creek, but when she bends down to retrieve it, strong hands pick her up, bodily carry her across the ice. Strange voices gibbering at her, a tongue she doesn’t recognize—kreepha-shee kashe chee!—then her tormenters drop her on the other side of the creek, and now more running while her tormenters hoot and chirp all around her, ignoring her tears and pleas to be let go…