"Get out of here!" Barb screamed, slumping on Balook's foot, her face against one of the three enormous hoof-toes. "Go away! Don't ever come back!" Her rage was as ferocious as his, but it had more justice.
Thor got out. It was over. Not only Balook—but Barb. Before it had started, really. He didn't even know what to feel.
FREAKS
4
IT LAY DEAD: white, fluffy, and innocent. "I'm glad for you, fella," Thor said. He picked it up, looking at each head in turn. It was a rabbit, with the head and forepaws tapering into a round body—whose posterior was another head and forepaws facing the other way. It had no hind legs, no bunny-tail. It had lived a normal rabbit span in an abnormal manner. With no regular means to eliminate bladder or bowel refuse, it had had to vomit out whatever remained in its gut, whenever the toxic level became too great. Eat, digest, vomit; eat, digest, vomit. It had urinated through a tube set in its belly, implanted there surgically just after its grotesque "birth."
Life had been torture for this creature, but the law had required the Project to maintain its existence as long as possible. Thor had watched it slowly decline, and shared the agony of its tedious terminal illness. How much better for it, if it had never lived!
And who was responsible for its life in this state? Thor himself was, to a degree, for he was part of the Project, supporting its researches. That guilt never quite left his awareness. He had tried to ease it by devising cute names for the uncute creatures, such as Pushmi-Pullyu for this one, but had known all along that one swift smash at each head would have served the creature in better stead.
He put the emaciated body in a freezer locker, and made a note on the record card: precise time of expiration. He went to the next hutch.
Pooh, the miniature bear, looked alertly up at him. Thor reached in and picked up the creature; it stood some twenty centimeters tall at the shoulders and weighed only a few kilograms: the size of an average cat. It was friendly, because Thor had befriended it. But for the secrecy regulations, it could have been given to some family as a pet. Instead, it spent its time in this bleak cage, lonely.
Lonely. How well Thor understood! He glanced at his right forearm, where the faint scars of teeth marks showed. Barb's bite, not serious physically, but horrendous emotionally. They marked the onset of his own loneliness.
Holding the tiny bear, stroking its fine fur, Thor thought of Balook. After almost two years, the memory still hurt. One sniff of that female, and the big lummox of a rhino had walked out of Thor's life forever.
Oh, there had been contacts. Barb had phoned several times, but Thor had refused the calls. Talking with her would only have made it worse; better for both of them to let it die.
After a while she had sent letters. He had a little pile of them on his desk, unopened, unanswered. He couldn't bring himself to destroy them, so they just sat there, mute reminders of his loss.
It had been especially bad after the first year—the time they would have had their date to go swimming, nude. He wondered what she looked like, now. She had probably forgotten all about that date. He hadn't—but he hadn't kept it.
Instead he had gotten involved in what remained of the Project, here: the freak zoo. He had learned how to care for the forlorn creatures here. These would never leave him; they couldn't. Except by dying. Like the Pushmi-Pullyu bunny.
He carried Pooh with him as he continued his rounds. The little thing needed every bit of comfort it could get, and it was never any trouble. A real bear might have been ornery and unmanageable, but this one's personality differed from the large wild ursines as much as Balook's nature differed from wild rhinos.
There it was again. He could not forget Balook. These animals of the zoo needed him as much as Balook ever had, and more than Balook did now—but it wasn't the same. Balook had not only needed him; he had needed Balook. He had not deserted the rhino, the rhino had deserted him.
Now he entered the invertebrate section: cool, damp pits for experimental boneless animals. He let Sluggo out for a slide around the interior garden. The monstrous two meter long slug moved with respectable velocity, about two kilometers per hour under full steam. But it had too many reflexes of its smaller cousins, and thought it could ascend vertical walls. It could not; size made a difference, and it was confined to the level. But it would hurt itself trying, if he didn't watch it.
Thor checked the toothed worm. To do this, he had to pour water on its patch of soil, forcing it to come up for air. If it didn't rise within a minute, he would have to dig it out. It might be dying, or merely balky; it was his job to be certain it was all right.
It came up, the ring of teeth clattering angrily. Those teeth could abrade rock, but progress was so slow it wasn't worth it. So Wormgear was a failure—like the rest of the inmates here. No fault of its own.
"Sluggo! Get down!" Thor yelled as the slug nosed into the retaining wall. Too late; the sticky slime gave way and the creature fell over on its back, squirming.
Thor hurried over, pushing at the spongy hide with his foot. This was not queasiness on his part; he was still holding Pooh and didn't dare put him down in this region. Also, the slime on Sluggo's skin was an irritant to human skin; gloves had to be worn for handling. Finally, he had more power in his foot, and it took power to roll Sluggo over, for he weighed almost two hundred kilograms.
Thor pushed, and Sluggo twisted, and slowly, together, they got the slug on his underside. There did not seem to be any damage, this time; the fall had been short, no more than half a meter, and Sluggo's body was resilient. "Now watch your step!" Thor said reprovingly. "You can go back in your cell for the day, you know."
The slug paid no attention. It was big, not bright, and Thor wasn't sure it could hear him. It had eye-stalks, but they did not project far because of the inhibition of gravity, and probably touch was the main sense that guided it. No slug this size could function like an ordinary one; the liabilities of scale made it impossible. Without a controlled environment and special food this one would soon have expired. For all that, Thor rather liked Sluggo; the creature was quiet and not at all vicious.
The same could not be said for Dino, in the next section. Dino looked like a dinosaur, with large scales all over his body, but he was a mammal. He was derived from the pangolin, the scaled mammal, but was much larger. He stood Thor's height, and walked on two hind legs, and he would have eaten Thor and all the other denizens of the zoo if he had the opportunity.
Still, Thor liked Dino too. The animal was no more responsible for his condition than any of the others were, and illustrated the other side of the project—and of man's nature. For every sweet-tempered creature like Pooh, a nasty brute like Dino. Each showed his true feelings, and each was reflected in Thor's own inner passions.
"Thor!"
He turned. It was Skip, now also active at the zoo. Without Balook, it was that or dismissal. "Trouble?"
"Could be. Call from the Western Project. For you."
"You know I don't take those calls!" He was locked in that prison of his own making, and hated it, but could not escape.
"It's not her," Skip said compassionately. "It's the boss. And he's serious. You'd better hop to it, lad."
Thor sighed. "Take Pooh." He handed over the tiny bear and went to the office to answer the phone. He could not refuse a call from authority; not if he wanted to keep his job.
It was the Project Manager, Don Scale's counterpart at the Theria Project. He was a portly, serious man, not given to minor pleasantries. "Nemmen, we need you."
Thor looked at the image in the screen, surprised. "How so, Mr. Duke?"
"The Baluchitherium Project is being cut back. We're low on funds now, and next year will be worse. We have to take measures."
That figured. Now that Balook and Theria had proved it could be done, governmental interest was waning. The significance of the successful re-creation of an extinct species was phenomenal, but now those perfected techniques were being applied to other things. Super-be
ef, super-hens, super-fish—the livestock problem was being solved by manufactured breeds. Even super-rats, useful for reducing certain types of garbage efficiently. Balook was merely one stage in a long chain; he was no longer needed. As far as the government was concerned, he could relapse back into extinction.
"Measures," Thor echoed as these thoughts flowed through his mind.
"We're faced with the necessity to cut down on equipment and personnel."
That sent a shock through Thor. Now he appreciated the relevance! He was about to lose his job! "I—understand, sir," he said, dry-mouthed.
"We're closing down the Western Project, as it is largely cropped out now. It was never intended for continuous forage by two adult animals. We'll move them to the Eastern Project."
"But it's not in shape!" Thor protested. "The stable's been dismantled, the personnel are gone—"
"We have sold the Western Premises to a developer for a large apartment complex. It's prime land in a good zone. The funds will be used to renovate the Eastern facilities."
"Oh." That was Duke's way of saying that the Project had made an excellent business deal, and had money to use. The government, in its bureaucratic fashion, probably would not realize what had been done until too late to pre-empt the money. Projects, like laboratory animals, had to fend for themselves at times. "But where do I come in?" For he was evidently not to be fired after all.
"You know how to mount and ride one of the animals. It is necessary to walk them across."
"Oh," Thor repeated. "Well, I'm not volunteering."
"Naturally not," Duke said. "You are being assigned. You have two hours to organize your affairs; the car has already been dispatched."
"Now wait a minute!" Thor protested.
Duke met his gaze, unperturbed. "You do wish to retain employment, Mr. Nemmen?" He faded out, certain of the answer. He was a man who got things done.
Thor started an angry retort anyway, but knew it would have been futile even had he remained connected. Mr. Duke did not joke; what he said, he meant. He was not in Thor's direct line of command, but he could have Thor fired. And would, if he saw the need. Ah, well. Now that he was committed, Thor discovered that he was relieved. He wanted to see Balook again—and Barb. For two years he had tried to deny this; he could do so no longer. Even though both would probably meet him with contempt.
"I'M SORRY FOR what I said to you," Barb's first letter said. "I didn't mean it. I mean I did, then, but when I cooled down and thought about it, I realized how you must feel. There was this time when Theria kept doing something, I don't even remember what, now, but it made me so darned mad I finally hit her on the knee. I hurt my hand and she didn't even feel it, but I felt so guilty! I guess that was what made me overreact when I saw you do it. It was myself I was mad at, more than you. I was yelling at the part of myself I hated. I wish I had understood, before I opened my mouth. I know you love Balook, and hated to leave him, and it just overflowed. It's exactly the way I am, too.
"Please call me..."
Thor set the sheet down, his vision blurring. He had never answered, of course, because he had never opened the letter. If she had apologized to him in the first letter, what had she done in the later ones?
He had only an hour left, and he was supposed to be getting his things in order. But at the moment it was more important to get his mind in order. He had to know what Barb had been saying to him, before he saw her again. If only to assess the depth of his guilt.
He nerved himself and opened the next, scanning down its lines. She expressed hope that he would at least write back to her, even if he didn't forgive her for her intemperate outburst. Then: "Balook stands forlornly in the corner of the pasture, facing east. Theria's long out of heat, now, and things are back to normal, so I guess he has time to think. We have to remember that they are animals; they can't handle more than one important notion at a time. When Theria was in heat, or in the last stages of it, Balook just couldn't be bothered with anything else. It wasn't that he didn't care, just that for him it would be like one of us trying to solve a trigonometric problem in the head while reciting Shakespeare aloud on stage. He just couldn't do it. But now it's different, and he remembers. Balook misses you terribly..."
And Thor hadn't even answered. Hadn't even known, thanks to his oikheaded refusal to read her words. His guilt was worse than even his projections of it!
He went to the last of the six letters. "...I guess I've alienated you, and I can't blame you. Maybe you're burning these letters without reading them. So I won't bother you any more. I'll just say, for the last time, that if you ever change your mind, the door is always open. Balook loves you, and I'd like to, if." There was no ellipsis, no further qualification; her implication was left as open as the offer.
If he ever came to his senses.
He was seventeen years old, too old to cry. It made no difference. Blindly, he jammed the letters into a pocket. What was the use? He would face the music soon enough!
A comely young woman came out to meet the car. Thor scowled. The Project was not yet out of funds, he thought, if it could afford such decorative secretaries. This was definitely the Project, though details had changed; he could tell by the distinctive rhino odor, that brought back so many memories.
"Hello, Thor," she said.
He looked at her again. Her brown hair was tied back in a neat bun, and she was immaculately dressed in a conservative gray blouse and black skirt and small gray shoes. Probably she had been given his name on a routing slip. He did not like being treated like baggage. "Have we met before?" he asked somewhat coldly.
"Thor, you broke our date!" she said severely.
"Lady, I don't know what—" He paused, the realization belatedly dawning. "Barb!"
"Idiot!" she said. "You didn't recognize me!"
He considered her a third time. "You've changed." An understatement! Two years had wrought far more physical change in her than they had in him. She was sixteen now, and had been transformed. The lanky angles had been replaced by thoroughly feminine curves, and her face had matured subtly. She had been pretty before; now she was beautiful.
It was like meeting a stranger. Worse, perhaps, because this was a stranger who knew him. There was no parity in the relationship.
"C'mon, I'll show you your room," she said. And suddenly she seemed familiar again. The professional young woman showed as a veneer covering the same girl. That made him feel better.
She hardly gave him time to set down his bag before she had him out in the stable. "Wait till you see!"
"See what?"
"It." She smiled knowingly.
First he saw Balook. No, not Balook—this was Theria, standing as tall as Balook had before. And beside her, almost beneath her, stood a tiny, big-headed, long-legged thing that could not have weighed more than a hundred kilograms.
"They made it!" Thor exclaimed.
"Yes, and she calved," Barb said proudly.
She put her hand on the calf's head. "We saved him as a surprise for you. Isn't he darling?"
"Yes." Thor's throat was tight. It was like seeing Balook again, that first time, eight years before. The rhinos had successfully mated; Baluchitherium was now a viable contemporary species. But all that seemed unimportant at the moment; what counted now was the reality of this ungainly calf. This one would never be lonely!
"You're wonderful, Blooky," Barb said, putting her arms around the calf. The humped nose nuzzled her face.
Thor watched, still remembering his first experience with Balook. By human standards, the creature was ugly, with great folds of skin and a misshapen body. But obviously Barb considered it beautiful, and that made her beautiful, quite apart from her other attributes. He knew it again: there could be no other woman for him. What a fool he had been to cut her off these two years!
"You can touch him," she said. "He knows that anyone his mother tolerates is okay, and she knows anyone I tolerate is okay." She leaned down to kiss its wrinkled snout. "Isn't that so,
Blooky!"
Thor reached out cautiously to stroke the sparse fur. "Yes," he repeated. If he had only known!
"Here's Balook!" Barb said brightly, glancing up.
Now he showed in silhouette in the giant doorway: twelve tons of superbly powerful rhino, almost six meters tall at the shoulder. The most majestic land-walking animal to tread the earth since the dinosaurs passed from the scene. Absolutely beautiful. Balook!
Would the huge rhino remember him? Thor stepped forward uncertainly, awed by this creature three times his height and well over a hundred times his mass. "Balook..." he said.
The lofty head descended. The small eyes peered. The monstrous nose came close, like the scoop of a steam shovel. It touched Thor, sniffing. The large, mobile lips quivered. The ears, far back on the skull, twitched.
Thor stood still. He was not afraid, though he knew that one twitch of that colossal nose could hurl him through the wall. His apprehension was emotional: was he friend or stranger?
Balook's head moved. The side of his jaw nudged Thor's hip. It was a familiar gesture, Balook's way of saying "I will pick you up."
"You remember!" Thor cried, throwing his arms around Balook's nose, as far as they would reach. The head was a meter and a half long, far more massive than Thor's whole body. "Oh, Balook!"
Suddenly he was in the air, dangling precariously as the head went up. Thor scrambled to catch hold of the ears, getting the anchorage he needed to save himself a six meter fall. His knees were clamped over Balook's two eyes. There was no harm there; the rhino's eyelids were so tough that only a deliberate kick would hurt, and sight was not his most important sense. "Oh, Balook!" Thor repeated joyfully, two miserable years vanished.
Thor dug his toes into the available crevices of the rhino's massive skull, grabbed a double handful of heavy skin on the neck, and squirmed about to bestride the neck, facing forward. His good traveling clothes were getting creased and soiled, but he didn't care. It was just like old times!
Balook Page 6
