Rheese inhaled sharply through his nose and appeared to be searching the RV’s ceiling for an answer to the question.
“Doctor?” Pete persisted.
Rheese scratched his chin. Equipment? Besides the jackhammers and pickaxes? How to explain that he had never had a single piece of legitimate survey equipment during the past six months.
“They… ah… all the equipment was theirs as well. We’ll, uh… we’ll need to source it from someplace else. We probably have some spools for gridding, though.”
Pete dropped his head into his hands while Matt and Tuni looked on in silence, feeling as if they were watching their parents argue. Rheese excused himself and went outside.
Enzi laid the pile of knives and forks on the first table after counting out enough for all. Hearing the trailer door shut behind him, he glanced back to see Dr. Rheese headed his way, an expression of urgency on his face. Enzi stood upright, waiting.
“Walk with me, Enzi,” Rheese said through his teeth.
In the RV, Peter was on the phone with Maggie, outlining a list of needed equipment. He found himself getting a little snappy with her, and she told him to calm down if he wanted her help.
At the breakfast table behind Peter, Matt and Tuni sat discussing Pwin-T and some small details from the last session that Matt had left out during the note-taking session with Pete.
“What exactly did the screamer look like?” she asked. “From what you said earlier, I’m picturing a giant dog with a long neck.”
“No, they’re pretty nasty-looking, actually. I’d crap myself if I saw one of those things coming at me.”
She looked at him with sleepy eyes. “Tell all, Mr. Turner.”
“Okay, well, I can’t really draw, but…” He slid a blank piece of paper in front of him and began to sketch. “See, they’re really tall, and they run on all fours. This is the back—all bumpy and spiny like this. And the neck’s kind of long, like a… What are they like?” He looked up for help.
“Ostrich? Giraffe?”
“No… uh, wait—you know what a monitor lizard is?”
“Yes. That’s like a Komodo dragon, right?”
“I think so.” Matt went back to his sketching. “Like a monitor lizard’s neck, but a little longer and I think way more flexible. That one was twisting it around crazily. It looks like they can turn all the way around backwards just with their neck… There.” He slapped the pencil down and turned the paper around, sliding it in front of her.
She frowned at it and bit her lower lip.
“See it now? Oh, and I think there’s feathery things jutting backwards around the neck and sort of around its ass. Forgot to draw that—gimme.” He quickly filled in the missing parts before returning the paper to her. “Oh, yeah, and sorry—I forgot the big, jutting chest bone thingy. Just imagine it there.”
“Well, honestly I wouldn’t be able to say it was missing from your artwork. Or where I would imagine inserting it.”
“What do you mean?” He tilted his head to look at the paper.
“I mean, I can’t really tell what this is. At all.”
“It’s a frickin’ screamer,” he said. “What do you want?”
She looked at it as though deep in concentration, but her chin began to quiver as she resisted laughing.
“Matthew, it looks like a five-year-old’s attempt at a disabled horse with sharp teeth. I thought you said they don’t have tails.” She began to laugh.
“That’s supposed to be feathers. I told you before, I don’t draw.” Matt flipped the paper back around and looked at it again. He saw what she meant, and joined in the laughter. Tuni leaned over the table to see it again.
“And why is its head on fire?”
“That’s the neck feathers!” He had to laugh.
“Do you two mind!” Peter shouted, covering the sat phone mic. “These calls are over a hundred pounds per minute!”
They stifled their glee immediately. Matt felt bad, but when Pete resumed speaking and turned his back, Tuni mimicked his stern face and shook her finger at Matt, prompting more snickers. She gestured for them to go outside and leave Peter alone, so they scooted off their seats and tiptoed out.
“We’re such children,” Matt said then spotted Rheese and Enzi on the far side of the pit, walking and talking. It looked suspicious, and he elbowed Tuni to have a look.
“Dodgy…” Tuni murmured.
From the food tent, Wekesa called to them. “Karibu, tafadhali!”
“C’mon, food’s ready,” said Tuni.
They walked to the food tent, and Tuni asked Wekesa what was for lunch.
“Humburg,” he replied over his shoulder.
“You’ll never guess what’s for lunch,” she said to Matt.
“I caught that—burgers. Joy.”
They sat down across from each other, and Tuni looked at Matthew’s face. She had studied his features at length, both on the jet and during all the sessions. She thought he looked better awake and alert.
Peter burst out of the trailer and let the door slam behind him. Looking over Tuni’s shoulder, Matt could see that he looked cross. He was coming toward them and muttering things under his breath.
“What’s for lunch?” he asked curtly.
“Hamburgers,” they answered together, looking at each other with cautious smiles.
“Oh good. I don’t know what I was expecting out here…”
“So, Peter,” Tuni said, “do you find it odd that Dr. Rheese doesn’t have any equipment for excavations at his excavation site?”
“Yeah, what an imbecile. But I did tell him before to halt everything, so it makes sense if he was trying to save the grant money. It’s just that usually, when we know how long a project will go, we buy equipment or make long-term lease arrangements with the owners.”
“I don’t trust the guy,” Matt declared.
“I know where you’re coming from,” Peter replied. “But just because he’s an ass doesn’t mean he’s dishonest. You’d be surprised how much he’s done for the Cambridge Museum of Natural History. I suppose he does get a little leeway from our side of things because of that good record. If I had to like every person that worked for me, I’d have a fairly sparse staff. The nature of genius and all that…”
They all looked back as an engine started. Enzi was in the Jeep, near the equipment trailer. Dr. Rheese was walking away from it, coming toward the group, as the tires skidded in place for a second and then caught, before the Jeep took off up the road, the sound of its engine fading after it.
Rheese approached as the burgers and buns arrived on the table.
“Where’s Enzi going?” Tuni asked him.
“He’s off to the base camp—thought there might be some men left over there that he might convince to come back to the site and help out. I told him it couldn’t hurt, if he didn’t mind taking the long drive yet again. Good man, Enzi.” Rheese took off his pith helmet and began to prepare his hamburger. “Believe it or not,” he said, “you’ll grow tired of these after a while.”
20
WORD SPREAD QUICKLY THROUGH THE CITY: Twill and Ilter had gone missing. The trail of blood leading from their house was the only clue to their fate. As Irin walked the paths, he maintained the same look of shock and despondency that he saw on everyone else’s faces. The horrible event had clearly slowed everyone down, though much remained to do.
With dark clouds looming over the sunset mountaintops, and gusty winds bowling through the valley, Irin hoped for the weather to come and go quickly. He visited the Gathering Rocks several times to monitor progress, biting back the impulse to hurry them, so as not to appear indifferent to the tragedy. His sense of hope found new strength as people who had not attended the gathering approached him and announced their plans to follow him. There were even some who had attended and sat in favor of Twill’s “solution” who asked if they could still join.
“Of course,” he told one and all, and reminded them of what was needed. Would th
ey have converted if not for Twill’s death? Irin wondered how many more would be convinced as they watched neighbors and family members prepare for the journey.
Irin found Wil with Pret at the food flats. They were arguing with Trig and Gen, two oldest men. Many people were busy gathering crops from vine and stalk, and Irin immediately understood what the oldest must be worrying about.
“They must stop, Pret,” said Trig. “There is no way this much food will sustain the thousands remaining in the valley.”
Irin saw the genuine fear in Trig’s eyes. “Excuse me,” he interrupted, touching the heads of all present. The four men looked at him; Trig and Gen’s faces bore sour expressions. “Wil, how much food has been gathered so far?”
“Only enough for a week,” he replied. “And that’s not accounting for all of the people joining in this morning.
“You keep going, old ones,” Pret insisted. “You could take five times that and there will still be more than enough food for those remaining behind to sustain us until the rock arrives.”
Irin nodded and then realized that Pret had said, “sustain us.”
“Then you will not be coming, Pret?”
“Oh, no,” he responded with a toothless smile. “I don’t believe there are any oldest who will be leaving. We would simply slow you down, and to be sure, most of us wouldn’t even make it over the first two ridges.”
Understanding completely, Irin closed his eyes to him. It was true; they would slow the rest.
“Hold it,” Gen said. “Not everyone believes this thing is even coming. When it does not, the food will all be gone, and we will starve within a week when the seeds, roots, and mothers’ milk run out.”
“Is this true, Pret?” asked Irin.
“Yes, it would be true if the rock did not come to greet us. But it will, so, you see, there is nothing to worry about.”
Trig and Gen were about to take up the argument yet again when Irin raised his hand in respect.
“Do not fear, oldest men. Your concern is a true one, and I make this vow: we will leave two weeks of extra food for you all. From our distant encampment, our eyes will face the valley during the daylight of the rock’s arrival. If it doesn’t come by nightfall, we’ll immediately send a batch of the fastest old men to return to the valley with enough food to sustain all until the rest of us return days later. Pret, how long until next harvest?”
“None will be complete before the rock burns the flats, kills us all, burns the valley to ashes…”
Irin interrupted, “I understand. No, let us pretend the rock does not come—how long after that day before the next harvest?”
He thought for a moment. “The first will be the dylt in the far mountainside flats. They would be complete in the second week… after the sky stripe destroys the entire valley.” He looked at the other two oldest as he said this, smiling with wily stubbornness.
“And after that?” Wil persisted, nudging his father’s gaunt shoulder.
“After that?” Pret burst out in laughter, pulling at his long, white cords of hair.
Trig and Gen were growing more incensed than ever.
“Pret, please,” Irin prodded.
“Yes, yes… of course. So important, all of this…” He chuckled a little more and then wheezed. “After the dylt, there will be short k’yon stalks. They will not be complete, but certainly edible and more than enough for the city even if it were closer to full.”
Irin turned to the two oldest.
“Is this acceptable, wise oldest? You will have enough new harvests, and we will have food returning.”
They accepted grudgingly and shuffled away, grumbling.
Irin waited until they were out of earshot, then leaned to Wil’s ear. “Leave just enough food to sustain half the city until the rock arrives.”
“But you said…”
Irin cut him off with a gesture, and Wil shouted across the flats to one of the gatherers. He passed on Irin’s instructions, and she ran off to tell the others. He sighed and turned back to Irin with a concerned expression.
“Wil,” Irin said quietly after another glance over his shoulder, “I thought of something new that we may not have considered. What if the teepin and teegrin doesn’t grow in the rocks outside the valley? We will not have anything to mix into solid.”
“Yes, it is possible. If we could find just one or the other, we could still melt and pour it, but it would not be as strong as solid. They have found a new t-lit, a yellow-brown one—like sunset—in the mines near the Gathering Rocks. No one has tried to use it yet, because it is too soft, but it makes me wonder if there might be other types in the faraway rocks. We have only every known what we have in the valley.”
“We have to believe there is nothing outside the valley. If there is, it is a greatness, but we must plan as if there were nothing at all. The biggest unknown, of course, is water—beyond the Great River, we have no idea if there is more. We can only hope.”
“So what will we do if there is no t-lit?” Wil asked.
“And what if there are no trees?” Irin added.
“We will have to find caves or dig houses under the dirt.”
“Yes,” Irin agreed. “We will need dirtpulls. We’ll need them for other things as well, especially if there is no solid to make new ones. I’ll tell Pwig he has a new task.”
Irin left as Wil walked through the flats to speak to the food gatherers. Progressing through the city, Irin grew more confident that they could leave in two nights.
There was still much talk of Twill and of doubts about their safety outside the fence. Several times people stopped him to inquire about screamers. Did he think the killers would be satisfied if they took just a few people? Or were there countless screamers outside the valley—perhaps one for every fleeing person? Did the screamers know they would be leaving? Were they even now lying in wait beyond the second ridge, so that no one would be able to run back to the city? Irin tried to calm these worries, saying there were probably but a few screamers in the world and that if they attacked a group of such size, the men could defeat them by their sheer numbers.
He was unsure if they really believed his answers, but at least they returned to their preparations and allowed him to continue on his way. Indeed, he was unsure whether he believed his own answers. But the choice was simple: certain death in the city, or a fighting chance outside.
When he passed the trail of blood from Twill’s house, a strange feeling settled in his belly, and he wondered, for the briefest second, if what he had done was wrong. But no. They would have been dead in a couple of moon cycles anyway. Rid your head of such thoughts.
As Irin arrived at the Hot Place, he saw Pwig speaking to Orin. Men and women sat on the floor, guiding solid through the thin channels and raising the frames of screening at the last moment before they hardened. In the next section, the lengths were scraped clean of burrs and then spun around sticks.
Pwig touched his brother’s head when he arrived beside him.
“I think we must stop, Irin,” he said through the side of his mouth, the way he always spoke.
“Why is that? We need hundreds more k’yot of all fittings.”
“I have everyone who knows how, and they work at full speed. They say they will have only three k’yots completed in that time.”
“Three!” Irin exclaimed. “Where is Opwot? Mine was ready in one day from the time it was requested.”
“Yes, Irin,” Opwot said from behind him. He turned and saw her sitting at his feet, placing a stick roll of solid on the ground beside her. Her clouded eyes stared sightlessly at his legs. “Yours was done in a single day. The rest of the old who were with you already had theirs, so we had to hurry to complete yours. Your middle took us the entire night, while Onorrit and Nitt cut and adjusted your top and bottom—they were Inni’s.”
Irin looked down at his k’yot bottom, only now realizing that he wore pieces of his dead friend’s k’yot.
“So the middle alone took
a whole night? Why can’t we get everyone threading them right now and see how many can be made?”
“It normally takes three nights for an entire k’yot to be made,” Opwot said as she resumed stitching from the new stick jutting from the ground. He watched her wrinkled hands work nimbly as she spoke. “We are all working as quickly as we can while teaching others how to stitch. It is not an easy task, but you are welcome to join us if you wish to add to our numbers.”
“That’s all right,” Irin said disappointedly. “It’s a greatness that you all work this hard.”
He raised his chin to Pwig and ran his hand over his forehead to keep the sweat from his eyes. Orin took his arm and pulled him out of the area.
“It is halfnight,” she said. “You should take this off.”
Irin thought about it and realized what a relief it would be. He wanted to get used to wearing it always, but he knew that after another night, he would have no choice. Better to take the last opportunity to be free of it, as Orin suggested.
He disconnected the holdstrip from the bottom and slid them off, exposing his thickly muscled legs. Irin saw that women in the Hot Place watched with interest, smiling at each other. He pulled the top and middle off over his head and handed them to Orin.
Orin tried to hold the k’yot with one hand while helping Irin slide the shoulder straps of his clothes back on. The women were looking at him like never before. Orin was surprised to find that she liked their looks. Her man was known to be the strongest in Pwin-T. Though he was not the tallest, his arms, chest, and legs were thicker and harder than any other man’s. He had grown this way when he had begun pouring. She walked away with the k’yot to return it to their house.
On the way, she decided to stop at Owil’s house and check on her. All the women were most worried that with her belly so large and her pains growing more frequent, she would not be able to travel.
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