Killing Rhinos

by Herb Hughes

“You’re through?”

  “I said it was good.”

  “How would you know? You didn’t take the time to taste it. Did you eat at all while you were in the desert?”

  “Ran short at the end. Gave my last day’s ration to Crazy Mac. The old man needed it. Some that come through won’t share with him, and others only give him a few scraps.”

  “That old man’s still alive, eh? Did he have any good stories this time?”

  “The usual. Nothing new. I asked him about Earth, and he said the vegetation on Agrilot is a lot like vegetation on Earth, but not identical. The big difference is the animals, but we knew all that. He did say the only way Rhinos could be native to Agrilot is if they evolved from trees. That’s the first time I’ve heard that. Couldn’t have, of course.”

  Jack used a spoon on the second bowl, taking time to enjoy the taste. Sheffie was, indeed, an excellent cook, among many other talents.

  “Did you hear about Joe Riley’s family?” Sheffie asked.

  “Yeah. Pickney, too. Damned shame.”

  “Joe was nice. So was his wife, Bonita. And I’ll never forget their little girl’s face. She was so precious. I can see her now, just thinking about her. Dark skin and dark hair like her mother, but so much prettier. Why can’t we do something? These monsters kill so many innocent people. Where do they come from? Why don’t they leave us alone? Why...” She hesitated.

  “Why can’t the rangers and the Rhino hunters protect everyone?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you were thinking it.”

  “Oh, Jack. The rangers are supposed to protect us, but there are so few of them, and they are so poorly equipped. The Rhino hunters don’t care. Well,” she stopped and started again, “They do care. Most of them do. But it’s all one big sport to you, isn’t it?”

  Jack didn’t answer. He knew Sheffie didn’t expect or want a response. Besides, she was too close to being right.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” she finally continued. “I don’t mean to be ugly to you. It’s just that those were the cutest kids. There was no reason, no sense...”

  Jack got up from the table and put his arms around Sheffie from behind, lifting her out of the chair and up to her feet. They embraced and didn’t talk for quite some time. He had no answers either, only more of the same questions.

  After lunch, he went to the shed and unlocked the cabinet where his saddle lay safely hidden. He retrieved the Rhino horn then returned the saddle to the secret compartment. The horn may have lost a millimeter or two in length since he had not taken it in as soon as he got to town, but there was no use in worrying about that now.

  Sheffie locked the library and put up the ‘Be Back Soon’ sign then walked with Jack to the ranger station, only two blocks away. Two guards, both holding homebuilts, snapped to attention as Jack and Sheffie came up. Jack knew there would be two more guards at the back door, making the ranger station the safest place in Borderton, as it was in most every town. None of the guards had a laser, though. Borderton was far too small a town to have one of the few remaining laser rifles.

  Inside, a tall, bronze-skinned man with curly black hair greeted Jack like an old friend. “Ah, Jack Wheat,” the man said with emphasis. “It is so good to see you. And it is no surprise you have a horn to measure. From the look of the wrap, it is a large one. Step into my office, please.” He motioned to a door with hand-painted letters that read: Captain Alexandre Andropov.

  “Hello, Demetrius,” Jack answered. “You’re office?”

  “Ah, yes. We have not had time to change the sign. Captain Andropov has gone to Lisbon, of course.”

  Lisbon, with a population of over three hundred thousand, was the largest city on the planet. A four-day ride northeast from Borderton, it was situated on a large natural lake. The lake was fed from the south and west by a myriad of streams and small rivers coming from the mountains. It was emptied on the east by a wide, deep, easily navigable river that meandered the relatively short distance to the ocean. This made the city ideally suited for water commerce, which is why it had outgrown all other towns.

  When it was founded by the original colonists, Lisbon had been christened “New Lisbon,” but over the years the “New” had become less and less frequently used. There was no reference for an Old Lisbon. Earth was a tale passed down through generations, almost a myth, a place no longer in memory for living people. Because of that, the “New” meant nothing and, over time, went away.

  “Lisbon?”

  “You have not heard?” Demetrius asked. “Why, that was almost two months ago.”

  Jack glanced at Sheffie, but she shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t get out much,” she said.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve been here,” Jack said. “I didn’t come to the station between the last two hunting trips as I had no luck on the prior trip.”

  “Please,” Demetrius said. “Come in, and I’ll explain.” He opened the door and motioned for the couple to enter. There was a formal flair to his movement as he waved his arm.

  Once Jack and Sheffie were seated in the visitor’s chairs, Demetrius continued, “Captain Andropov has been promoted to Colonel and has accepted the position of Commander of the Rangers. In Lisbon, of course.”

  “Why, that’s wonderful,” Sheffie said.

  “Wonderful in one sense. Tragic in another,” Demetrius said. “It seems the prior Commander was killed in a Rhino attack.”

  “Oh,” Sheffie said, putting her hand over her mouth.

  “As I recall the story,” Demetrius continued, “The Rhino burst from his hole in the street scant feet away from the Commander and his entourage. He and his top two men were mangled… ah, pardon me, Miss Jarrett. They were, unfortunately, killed by the Rhino before anyone had time to react.”

  “I remember hearing something about that on the hunt before last,” Jack said. “But I never heard the details.”

  “It was sad, of course, but it created some openings at the top. One man’s tea, eh? The other two officers who were killed were expected to compete to be the next Commander. With both of them dead, the leaders of Lisbon decided to undertake a planet-wide search for a replacement in hopes of finding someone who could solve their Rhino problem. Lisbon has always had a more severe problem than elsewhere, and it is getting worse.”

  “So they selected Captain Andropov?” Sheffie said. “I think he was a wonderful choice, but that’s quite a step up from captain in a small town such as Borderton.”

  “Yes, it is,” Demetrius agreed. “Because there have been fewer people killed by Rhinos around Borderton than around any other town, they believed Captain Andropov would be able to help them.”

  Jack nodded. He had liked Andropov and would miss him. Alexandre was the closest friend Jack had in Borderton. Apart from Sheffie, of course, and that was quite different. Demetrius Strombus, previously Andropov’s assistant, was also a friend, but Jack had not known him as well as he had known Alexandre. But he liked Demetrius. The man had an accommodating air about him.

  Demetrius leaned across his desk, looked directly at Jack, and added in a lower voice, “Though I suspect the fewer deaths is due more to you than to anything the Captain has done. “But,” he added, smiling and speaking louder as he leaned back. “It also opened an opportunity for me.”

  “Congratulations,” Jack and Sheffie said, almost in unison.

  “Thank you. Sadly, my tenure has started on quite a sour note. We had an attack a few weeks after I assumed command. I’m sure you heard about the Riley’s. That type of news travels all too quickly. Not the way to start my career as Captain, eh?”

  Demetrius stared at his desk a brief moment as Jack and Sheffie could think of nothing to say. Then Captain Strombus looked up with a smile and broke the awkward silence, “Ah, but I talk too much! You have a horn to be measured and a bank draft to receive. Let us retreat to the horn room.”

  With an animated flair to his movements, Captain Demetrius Strombus led th
e couple to a large room in the back of the station. There, on public display in locked glass cabinets, were dozens and dozens of Rhino horns. In the middle of the room, a brass stand with integral ruler sat on a highly polished table. A tall ranger in full dress uniform stood next to the table and snapped to attention as they entered.

  “At ease, Corporal,” Demetrius said. “Jack has yet another horn to measure.”

  Jack carefully unwrapped the horn and handed it to the ranger, a large, muscular young man with bright red-orange hair and a stoic face. The ranger placed the horn on the brass stand and pulled a bar from the top of the device down to the tip of the horn. “Fifty-eight-point-one centimeters.”

  “Hmmm, nice,” Demetrius said. “We haven’t had one that large in quite some time, well over a year.”

  Jack cocked his eyebrow then carefully looked over the measuring device and the stoic young ranger. The device looked okay. The bubbles on the crossed levels were dead center both ways, though, he thought, the device being level should have little to do with measuring the length of the horn. He had expected two or three more tenths but supposed he should have gotten the horn in sooner. He let the thought go without comment.

  Demetrius, a pleasant smile on his face, took the horn from the ranger and walked over to a cabinet marked “Jack Wheat”, unlocked it, and placed the horn at the end of a long line of horns.

  “Let’s see. That is number one hundred nine and, I believe...” The Captain was reading from a hand-written card in the case and performing mental calculations. “...a total of 5,284 centimeters. You’re only thirty-seven horns behind Hal Stamp’s record.”

  “Thirty-seven will take years,” Jack commented.

  “You can do it, Jack,” Demetrius said. “You’re young yet.”

  Jack smiled. “Not as young as I used to be. These three-week trips into the desert are getting harder. Is Bonner still at eighty-three?”

  “No. We received an update letter from Newton, let’s see, two weeks ago, I believe. He brought in a horn, but it was much smaller than yours. He’s now at eighty-four and...” Demetrius said as he opened a drawer and fumbled through several envelopes. He lifted one then he continued, “Ah, yes. Here it is. He’s at 4,015 centimeters, well behind you in total length but, more importantly, behind you in average horn length. You seem to be able to find the larger Rhinos. I can’t wait to send your update letter to Newton and let them know how badly you’ve bested him!”

  “But he’s younger,” Jack said, almost to himself.

  “Just a few years,” Sheffie answered. “He’ll never catch you. You’re too good.”

  Jack smiled and untied his Rhino hunter bracelet, then handed it to Demetrius.

  “Of course,” Demetrius said. “We’ll add a red bead immediately. Do you want to wait for it or shall we send it around to the library?”

  “Library’s fine.”

  “Very well,” Demetrius said. “We’ll have it there this evening.”

  “I am always amazed,” Sheffie said as she pointed to the other horn cases, “At how many more horns you have than the other hunters from Borderton.”

  “Yes,” Demetrius said, “There have been several hunters from our small town over the years, but none has come close to Jack.” He pointed to one of the cases, at a plaque beside three horns. “A few decades ago everyone thought Su Young Lee was going to be the bright, new, upcoming star. His homebuilt misfired on his fourth Rhino. He carried two rifles, but he never got the second one out of its holster. Rhinos are so fast, so deadly fast.”

  Demetrius was quiet for a moment then said, “Ah, but enough of that. We must prepare your bank draft. Fifty-eight-point-one centimeters amounts to five hundred eighty-one dollars. Come with me to the front desk.” Once again, the Captain performed an elaborate gesture with his right arm, motioning the couple ahead.

  When Jack received the check, he thanked Demetrius and the couple left.

  “Where to, now?” Sheffie asked as they walked out into the dirt street.

  “Let’s cash this. I need to buy a few things.”

  “All you own and all you ever wanted to own are that horse and the clothes on your back. What in the world do you want to buy?”

  “A new dress,” Jack responded.

  “I don’t think you’d look good in a dress, dear.”

  “For you, silly,” Jack smiled.

  “Oh, I don’t need a dress. I don’t go anywhere, except to bed with you. Do I need a dress for that?”

  “Maybe we could try it that way for a change.”

  “Oh! Now who’s being silly? You need to save your money. One day we’re going to buy a place of our own, remember?”

  “We’ve got plenty of time.”

  “Plenty of time? You were complaining about how old you were only moments ago. Are you ever going to marry me, Jack Wheat?”

  “Of course. I love you. But not now. Not while I’m still hunting. Something could happen... Look, we’ll get married as soon as I set the record and retire.”

  “That'll take years! Stupid record. Who cares? I want you now, the way you are.”

  “I care. It’s something...”

  “You’ve got to do. Yes, I know. Men!”

  “Come on,” Jack said with a laugh. “Women have things they need to do, too. And right now you need to buy a new dress. Let’s go to the bank.”

  “I haven’t worn the last dress you bought me. If you must spend your money, let’s get something for the apartment. I could use some new sheets. My old ones are becoming tattered around the edges. And they're permanently stained from your filthy body when you got home last night.”

  “Sheets it is,” Jack said. “And a new spread and new pillows to match.”

  “Oh, Jack. You’re such a spendthrift,” Sheffie said as they walked away in the direction of the bank.

  Of course, when it was their turn to go to a teller’s window, they got Rose. Jack, knowing the way things always seemed to work, would have been surprised if it had turned out any other way. But either Sheffie didn’t notice Rose’s less than subtle flirtations, which Jack seriously doubted, or she chose to ignore them. Sheffie had always been confident in herself in a quiet way, so Jack was pretty sure it was the latter. Meanwhile, he acted the dumb male who wouldn’t even notice a red and yellow striped house. He ignored Rose’s advances with a smile as he thanked her for the cash.

  Jack’s arms were loaded. There were new sheets, new pillows, a new spread with curtains to match, new towels for the kitchen, new bath towels, a new blouse for Sheffie, and two pairs of socks to replace the pair Jack’s toes were poking through.

  “What do you think?” Sheffie asked as she held up a plate. “They would match the new towels.”

  “Yeah,” Jack responded. “It’s terrible about my being such a spendthrift.”

  “Welllllll,” Sheffie said. “You got me started. You know how I love to shop. If you hadn’t insisted...”

  “So it’s all my fault?” Jack interrupted. “I should have known.”

  “We don’t have to buy dishes,” Sheffie said, an impish look on her face. “I suppose the old ones will do quite well for another few years.”

  Jack laughed. As he did, he heard something in the distance, a light rumble. It was an unfamiliar sound. Was he hearing things?

  “They’ll do fine,” she continued. “Never mind that two bowls are chipped, and three of the cups are broken.” Sheffie looked off into the distance as though she had heard the same sound.

  “Yes, I know. I broke two of the cups. But I didn’t chip those bowls.”

  “Jack Wheat! You most certainly did chip one of them.”

  “Did not,” he retorted with mirth in his voice. The distant sound was getting louder, stealing more and more of his attention.

  “That day you were trying to juggle them, you...” Sheffie stopped in mid-sentence. The strange rumbling had grown too loud to ignore. They could feel the vibrations of the sound coming up through the floor. “What
is that noise?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never heard anything like it.” They quit their good-natured ribbing and walked outside. Others were gathering on the street, too, and everyone was looking toward the corner from where the sound was coming. It was growing in intensity much faster now. The earth shook beneath their feet. Faces in the crowd began to change from curiosity to worry. Some people started to step backward, toward the sidewalk and storefronts.

  Then it appeared! Coming around the corner on the hard dirt street in downtown Borderton was the strangest contraption that had ever invaded their eyes. And their ears. It was a machine of sorts, large, with white smoke billowing into the air in huge puffs that seemed to be timed to correspond to the loud chugging noises.

  The great machine caused an upheaval in the streets. Horses were rearing at the awful noise, and more than one rider was thrown to the ground. An empty wagon pulled by a terrified animal went flying by, a man running and waving his arms not far behind.

  “What the hell is that?” Jack said.

  “I don’t know. It looks a little like a… an automobile. You remember? From the books in the library?”

  “Maybe a little,” he admitted. “But not much. It’s all squared off, and there are so many pipes and knobs and things all over it. It looks more like a train, an early steam engine. You showed me pictures of those a long time ago.”

  “Yes! You’re right. But there are no tracks. Trains ran on metal tracks.”

  They backed up a few steps then stood and watched with mouths gaping as the wonderfully strange machine came toward them, rolling closer as it slowed down and veered slightly left to avoid the people standing in the street.

  It was more than twice the length of a horse, a good meter taller than a man, and as wide as a two-rider wooden wagon. The machine had two wood beams running its entire length. These were held well off the ground by waist-high wheels of wood and metal. The wide wheels had little bumps built into the surface, leaving regular indentations in the dirt street as they rolled along. They were attached to metal axles bolted to the wood beams with the largest bolts Jack had ever seen.