by L. A. Graf
Banishing the unpleasant thought of what Sikes would say when he caught up, George watched the kleezantsun slide out through the scalloped darkness of the zoo’s service entrance, skirting puddles of orange-white mercury light. Vegas paused when he reached the road, dropping into such a dense pocket of tree-cast shadow that no human eyes could have seen him. Even George could only guess from the occasional glint of his face that he was watching the serpentine road around the wooded park. When no traffic passed for several moments, Vegas took two long strides over to the chain-link fence and scooped up the crumpled paper dry cleaning bag. He tucked it carefully under his parka, then retreated back into the zoo.
After a cautious moment, George rose from his damp hiding place and followed. The careless ease with which the Overseer had come out to pick up his delivery had already told George that there were no intruder alarms at the entrance. George ducked through the unstaffed gate, careful to walk on the frost-hardened grass beside the asphalt so his footsteps wouldn’t echo.
The fast cadence of Tenctonese footsteps led him down a driveway into the zoo, bypassing the shadowy, dung-scented buildings near the entrance. George had hoped the Overseer would head for one of those storage sheds, where it would be easy to keep him under observation until Sikes arrived. The meager warmth generated by tightly stored hay and straw would have been enough to keep a Tenctonese warm through the frigid Pittsburgh night. But maybe only slaves knew the tricks of hiding in the cold—troublemaking slaves who used to run away from their owners. A kleezantsun like Vegas might have been forced to use a more obvious nighttime shelter, like one of the refreshment stands or zoo offices.
The driveway ended against a thinner path of asphalt, curving out of sight behind darkly clustered trees to left and right. George followed the sound of Vegas’s footsteps onto the downhill, right-hand path. After a few meters, the fringe of grass became a more tangled edge of hemlocks and hedges. The natural, untended look, George realized wryly. He picked his way through, slowed by the undergrowth but unwilling to trust the hard surface of the path. He could still hear the Overseer’s footsteps ahead of him, although they were getting more faint as the distance between them widened. Then, without warning, the sound stopped altogether.
George plowed to a halt beside another dung-scented building, guessing from the deep whuffles and stamps inside that this one was not a storage shed. He stilled his breathing, trying to block out the nearby animal sounds enough to hear where Vegas had gone. He expected the scrape of a window forced open, or the sullen crack of a jimmied door. Instead, what he heard was the faint skitter of feet on stone, then the thump of a body landing on grass-softened ground. The footsteps resumed again, muffled now by more than distance.
Vegas must have jumped into one of the enclosures, George realized. He glanced over at the placard outside the darkened building, trying to place the unfamiliar name he saw there. His mind conjured a picture of orange-spotted herbivores with towering necks and awkwardly sloping legs. Fairly sure he could outrun such beasts even if they came out of their shelter, George hurried down the path and vaulted the low stone fence.
The drop on the other side was longer than he’d expected, and ended in the shock of ice-cold water. Wet to his knees and fiercely angry at himself for not looking over the fence before he jumped it, George staggered across the protective moat to the trampled grass on the other side. It would have been an easy distance to jump, if—like Vegas—he’d known it was there. He only hoped the splash had not betrayed him.
He looked around to get his bearings before he moved. He could no longer hear Ross Vegas, just the nearby rustle of tall seed-tufted grass and the shrill singing of wire fence in the wind. The moated enclosure rose in a long grassy hill, broken by the occasional darkness of small buildings. From somewhere farther away, George heard a wolf answer the wind’s howl with one of his own. The wailing cry broke into a flurry of yips, then fell to silence again.
Shaking the worst of the water off his feet, George cut across the enclosure in the general direction Vegas had taken. He’d have to assume that the Overseer had taken this route because it provided a shortcut to his hiding place, not as an evasive procedure. If that didn’t work, he could always circle back to the entrance gate and look for Sikes. The human must have returned by now.
Trudging up the gentle slope of the enclosure, George tried to ignore the wet squishing of his shoes while he sorted out the myriad of smells blowing toward him. The ground around him steamed with digestively fermented hay, obviously the product of grazing herbivores, overlain with the pervasive reek of bird droppings. When he reached the crest of the hill, however, George caught a more familiar gamy scent. He paused and frowned, trying in vain to match it with his dim memory of Ross Vegas. It wasn’t until he heard a deep snarling roar that he realized he was approaching the carnivore section. Somewhere below him Ross Vegas—and the levpa—must be hiding.
George quickened his pace, veering to skirt around one of the small buildings that had dotted his path. He had gone almost a meter past it when the building stirred and grumbled and reached out to poke at him with a long, rubbery nose.
“Andarko!” George swung around, startled by the immense size and bulk of the beast confronting him. Its smell told him it was a herbivore, but the massive swing of one tree-trunk leg and the dim gleam of its curving tusks suggested its evolutionary success had not depended on flight. He took a step back, calculating the distance to where he had entered the enclosure. Too far. The line of fence to his right was tall enough to match the beast’s height and also looked unpleasantly electrified.
George swung around, trying to find a more promising line of escape. Beside him, the huge animal rumbled to itself in grunts and snorts too deep for human ears to hear. He hoped that didn’t mean it was planning to attack. The closest stone wall he could see lay at the top of the hill, near the tiled roof of some large building. George started walking in that direction, careful not to come any closer to the huge mound of gray flesh now flapping its papery ears at him. It blinked little piggy eyes as he went past, then began to scrape one massive foot across the ground.
George made it halfway across the field before the vibrating ground beneath his feet told him that the beast had begun to follow. He glanced back over his shoulder, just in time to see it break from its ponderous walk into a frighteningly rapid gallop. Abandoning all dignity, George ran for his life.
C H A P T E R 2 1
HE WAS GOING to kill George.
Sikes slammed Pickett against the driver’s side door with his elbow, stretching past the seat to hook a finger through the keys and yank them from the ignition.
“Hey!”
“You’re gonna wait here,” Sikes barked, scrambling out the passenger door.
Pickett rolled down the window to shout at Sikes as he dashed for the zoo entrance across the street. “The hell I am! This is grand theft auto, Sikes!”
Why was it that petty felons always thought they knew the law better than cops did? Zipping the front of his jacket, Sikes slowed to a jog and angled toward the grass where Pickett had thrown the cleaning bag. A square as wide as both spread hands had broken frozen grass blades, but there was no sign of footprints in the frost nearby. That meant whoever had picked up the delivery had approached on concrete, reached the bag from concrete, and left by the same route. Sikes flicked a frowning glance at where the zoo driveway stretched past on his right and dove out of sight between the gates.
Clicking Pickett’s keys together in his fist, he stood and drummed his foot while he considered. Was George really stupid enough to follow Vegas into the zoo alone? Was Sikes stupid enough to walk into wherever the levpa spent the night without George along to back him up? He still hadn’t decided if he liked the answer to either question when the van behind him roared into sputtering life.
Sikes swung around in time to see Pickett’s dry cleaning truck roll downhill a half meter, then catch its gears and grumble up the street and away. �
�Darren, you rat turd!” He drew his gun and aimed a halfhearted squirt after the van. “I hope they pull you over for speeding.” One look at the hot-wired steering wheel, and any cop in the world would assume the van was stolen.
Sikes turned with a sigh and followed the driveway into the zoo. The place obviously hadn’t been built to accommodate visitors at night—no streetlamps, no path lights, nothing to make picking his way through the dark any easier. Even the pathway was black, without so much as a white line down the edges to distinguish it from the bramble. Sikes alternated between walking with his hands crammed into his pockets and walking with them thrust a little out in front of him, not feeling safe in either position. He stepped off the path twice, recognizing the uneven turn of his ankle just in time to right his balance and keep from falling. The third time, he didn’t make it and tumbled through the high grass into a stand of knotted wire fence.
A hissing string of curses spun out of him without his really meaning them to. Jerking to free his shoelaces from the wire, he caught his jacket cuff on a fence post and then his hair in the bushes. Only the heavy sound of animal breathing and sturdy footsteps just beyond the fence kept him from shouting out in frustration. He froze, blinking through the wire into the darkness and wondering if whatever the fence contained could actually reach him from here, and if he’d care.
He heard the jangle of keys for several seconds before consciously identifying the sound. Still, the sweep of light across his shoulders caught Sikes by surprise.
He ducked his head, trying to throw shadow across the whiteness of his face, and peered back toward the path through the fringes of his hair. He couldn’t see the man, just the brilliant glare of his flashlight as it swept back and forth across the path. A security guard, he guessed, ambling from checkpoint to checkpoint with his flashlight, key ring, and clock keys. He rang like an overfull silverware drawer, and the noise he generated would have made it damn hard to sneak up on any trespassers. That was fine by Sikes. He quietly extricated his shoes and clothes from the wire, watching the guard with half an eye until the light finally passed on out of sight beyond the bend.
No sense following the watchman. Biting his lip against expected pain, Sikes crawled back onto the roadway without trying to untangle his hair. What pulled loose came with him; what didn’t, he left behind. Boy, George had better appreciate this.
Sikes headed back the way he’d come, a little faster this time. Taking a cue from the security guard, he dug Pickett’s keys from his pocket and bounced them against his leg as loudly as he dared. He might not have a flashlight, but he could at least win himself some measure of immunity by sounding like he belonged. Maybe he could mug a guard for a flashlight later.
The path wound raggedly uphill, past a low stretch of wooden decking and around the edges of a multi-tiered building with chains on its doors. Sikes didn’t like the way the landscaping and overgrown weeds along the pathside hid everything not directly in front of him. He hated the broken canopy of skeletal trees, and the fat, long-tailed chicken type things that roosted there, fluttering with distrust and annoyance as he passed by. He hated the scratchy whispers of the grass against itself and hated most of all the way his heart pounded with fear every time his senses told him something whisked by just outside the reaches of his sight. If the levpa had managed to follow them here, would it stalk him like that? Or just attack him and rend him to shreds?
The underbrush ahead of him peeled back and gave the pathway room to expand. It flared out, opening into a concession area bordered by arches and winged lions, with other smaller paths radiating out to south and east. Sikes paused to think about Vegas and consider.
Above and behind him, an elephant bugled, and a burst of disturbed animal noises followed. Sikes spun, startled, and listened for the sound of approaching watchmen as a cue for whether or not he should try to hide. No flash of warning light, not even the urgent jangle of watchman’s keys. Only the sound of footsteps pounding toward him from the other side of the plaza’s wall warned him that someone was headed in his direction. And not a human someone—not with that power, and not at that speed.
His heart seized into a fist between his lungs. If it was the levpa, he couldn’t outrun it. If it was Vegas, he could at least try to fight. He moved into the path of approach and took a deep breath. Setting his legs wide, he slipped the water pistol out of his pocket and clenched it firmly in both his hands. Then he sank down until his hips rested even with his knees, dropped his left foot back by thirteen inches, and waited.
Whoever would have guessed that a twenty-five-year-old lesson in guarding home plate could save you from an onrushing alien? Sikes saw the flash of a dark silhouette clear the wall, and the Newcomer barreled into him without even checking his stride. Sikes took the force of the hit on his shoulder, just as his coach had trained him to do, and heaved up with all his might in the direction the runner was already aimed. He felt a flutter of protest in the small of his back but couldn’t help grinning with evil pride when the Newcomer went flying, up and over, to crash with a breathless grunt on the asphalt behind him.
Scrabbling around to plant one knee on the Newcomer’s broad chest, Sikes tapped the pistol against his forehead in warning. “Don’t move or I’ll squirt!”
C H A P T E R 2 2
GEORGE STARED UP, his gut registering the barrel of a gun for a sickening moment before his mind saw the gaudy orange-and-green plastic. He let out a whistling breath of relief, then remembered what Sikes had put into his water gun and slapped it away with a fervent curse.
“George?” Sikes must have recognized his voice. He let the gun swing aside and dangle from his right hand, even though he still gazed uncertainly down at George. The winter night that was merely dusky for George must have been almost pitch black for the human. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“I followed Ross Vegas into the zoo.” George scrambled up and looked around, trying to orient himself after his oblivious sprint across the enclosure. They stood on the edge of a cobbled plaza full of tables and benches, obviously the seating area for the small roofed restaurant beside them. The asphalt path continued on the other side, heading uphill and away from the direction Ross Vegas had been taking. They must be close to the carnivore section—George could smell the musky, almost familiar spoor drifting toward them on the winter wind. One unseen predator whined and padded quietly in the enclosure behind the refreshment stand.
“Why would Vegas go into the elephant pen?” Sikes swung around to scowl at the high stone wall behind them. The huge gray beast still stood on guard there, rumbling distrustfully at George. “It couldn’t be for food. Even a levpa would think twice about trying to rip an elephant apart.”
“He was taking a shortcut to somewhere down below.” George waved a hand down the hillside, where occasional bad-tempered roars still echoed through the night. He circled the plaza, leaving wet footprints on the cobblestones as he looked for an exit to the lower tier of enclosures. “I think he was trying to avoid the security guards.”
“Not a bad idea.” Sikes tucked his plastic gun into his waistband and followed him. “I almost got snagged by one on my way in.”
George paused just outside the plaza, beside a wooden platform that hung invitingly over a section of the brushy slope. “Maybe we should cut through the grounds here.”
“Great idea, George.” Sikes jerked a thumb at the labeled placard beside the fence. “I’m sure the cheetah would be real happy to see us. And don’t try to tell me you could outrun him.”
“Not carrying you.” George sighed and retraced his steps into the plaza. “Let’s see if we can find a map of the zoo somewhere in here. We know Vegas must be hiding somewhere near the big meat-eating animals.” He found a colorfully outlined map near the gift shop door and studied it, aware of Sikes squinting over his shoulder. “Something big, like lions or tigers.”
“Or bears. Oh, my.” Sikes sounded disgusted. “Why the hell can’t all you Newcomers be vegetarians li
ke Cathy? Then the only thing we’d have to worry about would be stepping in moose shit or scaring a flamingo to death.”
George memorized the route to the feline exhibits, then stepped back and eyed his fidgeting partner. “You can wait here, Matthew, if you’d prefer.”
Sikes snorted. “And hope the levpa doesn’t find me?”
“If it reports to Vegas every night, it won’t,” George said quietly. “We already know Vegas sends it after a new Tenctonese each time he gets a delivery from Lydia, whether or not the one before was killed. The levpa will have someone else to chase tonight.”
He’d tried to keep his voice dispassionate, but Sikes surprised him with a suspicious look. “George, what have you done?” When only silence answered him, the human cursed and reached out to grab the folds of the camel hair jacket. “Dammit, George, you said you were going to put a couple of clean towels into that dry cleaning bag!”
“I decided that would make Vegas too suspicious,” George said stiffly. “After all, Lydia would be much more likely to steal something small, like a tie. And if the levpa didn’t get a new scent tonight, I knew he’d just come after you and Cathy again.” He managed a half-amused smile. “Don’t worry, Matthew. Running away from levpa is old cap for me.”
Sikes groaned. “I don’t care how old hat it is, George, it’s still stupid! If the levpa came after me, you’d at least have some hope of stopping it. If it comes after you, what the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Squirt?”
The human opened his mouth, but a long and strident ring broke the hush of distant traffic before he could speak. Dismay clawed inside George’s chest, nearly choking him until he recognized it as the sound of a phone, not a tripped alarm. Beside him, Sikes spun around and scowled into the dark plaza as the phone rang again. “Think that call’s for Vegas?”