Killing Rhinos

by Herb Hughes

  “Things seemed to have turned for the positive,” he said to Stephan. “With two recent finds, the Farm has been productive lately. There are times when I wonder if it’s worth all the trouble and expense, not to mention the assignment of this godforsaken outpost. But when we have successes, it wipes away the doubts.”

  “I understand,” Stephan responded. “It’s a tough assignment out here, far from any inhabited world, well, any reasonably inhabited world. Oh, there was an extensive piece in the news transfer this morning on direct ‘in-body’ genetic resequencing. Scientists believe they are getting close. They’ve gone well beyond a theoretical design. They have developed the necessary equipment and are performing tests.”

  “Yes, I accessed the same piece. That would be a blessing indeed. No need for Agrilot anymore. Instead of using Agrilot tissue to develop antidotes, we could make people completely resistant by altering their body’s genes. No need for tours of duty on this hellhole of a post.”

  “I would not miss it,” Stephan said.

  “Nor I. But think about it. This goes much further than merely eliminating the need for the Farm. When we are able to change every single strand of genetic material inside a person’s body, we will be able to do much more than cure diseases. We will be able to do “on the fly” genetic engineering. Decades from now when they perfect the processes and get the cost and size of the equipment down to a manageable level, we will be able to change ourselves in our own homes. Imagine that. If you want to change your skin color or your eye color or the shape of your ears, you dial it in and lay down in the machine, and it will resequence every strand of genetic material in your entire body to match the settings. You would literally change during the time you lay inside. Why, you could have a new look every day!”

  “That would be astonishing,” Stephan said. “And confusing.”

  “It would be both,” Ethan laughed. “Not to mention interesting. But I’m afraid they’ve still got a long, long way to go before we will be able to manipulate our bodies to that extent. Probably centuries. It will remain nothing more than a medical process for a long time to come. According to the post, the equipment is still quite large and quite expensive, and the treatments are uncomfortable and lengthy. But once they get the medical testing successfully completed, they will be able to solve any microbe problem the colonists may run into without us having to harvest tissue from Agrilot. That’s a good solid start. Unfortunately, it may take decades yet to prove their procedures. And that’s if things go well in the trials. Our tours will likely be long over when we finally nuke this antiquated cesspool of a planet and get back to an acceptable form of civilization.”

  “I sure hope you’re wrong,” Stephan said. “The piece sounded as though they would have it field usable in the near term.”

  Ethan glanced at Stephan. “I seriously doubt it. And that’s a pity. I wanted to be here when it was time to eliminate Agrilot. I wanted to be the one to press the button and watch these ape throwbacks disappear forever.”

  Chapter 12

  By early afternoon of the third day, the steep up and down slopes of the foothills were behind them. Riding was almost easy again. For Jack, that is. Sheffie, not used to anything more than short rides around Borderton, was struggling. She longed to be back in the soft bed at the hotel in Engles, the small town where they had spent the second night. Engles marked the halfway point for the trip, but halfway was not nearly far enough for her weary body. Still, she refused to complain. She remained quiet.

  Farms became larger and more frequent as the road fell into flatter terrain. There were still plenty of trees on either side and one last, low ridge of foothills to cross, but leaving the lower slopes of the mountains made Jack feel much more comfortable about the trip. The visibility was better here and would be even better tomorrow as they rode from Wilsey to Lisbon.

  “We should be riding into the outskirts of Lisbon by this time tomorrow,” Jack said, trying to think of something to break the silence that had been building all day.

  “It can’t come soon enough,” Sheffie said, no longer able to hold her feelings in. “I am so ready to get this trip over. I’m still sore from that first night; sleeping on that pile of hay they called a bed. And my butt is raw from all the riding. I had no idea four days could be so long. Why, I’m going to sleep for a week when we get to Lisbon!”

  “Is that before or after the shopping?” Jack asked with a mischievous smile.

  “Now there’s a tough decis… ”

  Sheffie stopped in mid-sentence. Jack had heard it, too, grass rustling to his right, loud, on the other side of Sheffie. As he started to turn his head, there was a sudden thunder of brush thrashing and tree limbs cracking.

  A loud scream pierced the still, sunlit air. Sheffie’s voice. Sheffie’s scream. His head finished its turn in time to see the horns of a monstrously huge Rhino bursting through the trees on the other side of the woman he loved. He saw the boiling bright red and orange and yellow fire in the animal's huge, burning eyes. In the same instant, his hand slid under the saddle. The Rhino had seen them immediately and was charging fast.

  In the tiny fraction of a second between the first reaction and the second thought, he realized he could not make it in time, that he would not be able to pull and fire the laser before the beast was upon Sheffie, ripping her into shreds and him helpless to stop it. If they had not been talking, or if he had been alone, he would have heard the sounds sooner and would have been ready. But now it was too late.

  Even though he knew trying to save Sheffie was hopeless, his hand never hesitated nor slowed. If only the Rhino would trip and fall or have something else grab its attention, anything for an extra half second.

  He grasped the butt of the laser rifle, but before he could pull a thunderous sound exploded. The blast was further to the right and behind them. It was a gunshot, but then it wasn't. It was much too loud for a homebuilt.

  The Rhino’s eyes instantly turned to pale yellow as it lunged forward, its horns barely hair-widths away from Sheffie. Its head wavered in the air as the body stumbled. The yellow in the eyes rapidly changed to white then to a gray background with white dots swirling around as the huge head fell forward. The large, serrated middle horn brushed Sheffie’s dress as the Rhino fell to the ground. There were only a few flickers of white left in the eyes as the animal pounded hard against the earth. It lay motionless as the last few flickers of white disappeared. It had died quickly. With only one shot.

  Jack slid the laser back into place then pulled his hand out from under the saddle. Her face red and twisted with fear, Sheffie turned to look at him. The skin around her eyes and across her forehead puckered in wrinkles as she cried uncontrollably. She reached out for Jack like a small child reaching for the safety of daddy’s arms. She tried to talk but couldn’t.

  Jack pulled her onto his horse with one arm and held her tight as he steadied Killer. Sheffie’s horse circled in the road nervously. The pack horses had run about a hundred meters back the way they had come and were now standing motionless in the middle of the road. Jack knew they were still in shock. He was still in shock himself but tried to hide it.

  A lone rider came through the trees along the right side of the road, through the opening made by the Rhino. “Afternoon, folks,” he said. Jack couldn’t help but notice that the rider was a kid, no more than seventeen or eighteen. He was only average height and quite slender, though with exceptionally broad shoulders. The boy held a homebuilt with the butt on his thigh, and the barrel pointed upward. It was a homebuilt, but it was unlike any homebuilt Jack had ever seen. It had a long, thick barrel, much longer and thicker than other homebuilts.

  “Afternoon,” Jack answered, making an effort to be nonchalant. “Nice shot.” He looked at the hole in the Rhino, immediately behind the front shoulder. It was a large hole.

  “Thank you. Your misses all right? Looks like her dress is torn.”

  Sheffie’s cry had given way to a deep, wet sobbing, b
ut she nodded her head to indicate she was okay.

  “She’ll be fine,” Jack said. Though he tried to appear calm, inside he was boiling. He knew he couldn't have gotten the laser out in time. If it hadn’t been for this young man, Sheffie would have been slaughtered instead of suffering nothing more than a ripped dress. It only took the blink of an eye with a Rhino the size of the one that lay dead on the ground. And, now that he thought of it, he was not altogether sure he could have killed the Rhino before it killed him, too. It was maybe fifty-fifty at best, even without taking the time to telescope the barrel or expand the stock of the laser. But it wouldn’t have mattered. If Sheffie had been killed, well, he wasn’t sure he would want to live without having her to come home to after a long hunt.

  “Been tracking this one for a couple of hours,” the young rider said. “Smelled his hole. It was still pretty fresh when I found it. Oh, pardon me. Slim Ryman, at your service.” The boy tipped his hat.

  “Jack Wheat. This is Sheffie Jarrett.”

  “Jack Wheat? THE Jack Wheat?”

  Jack didn’t want to answer. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said.

  “I’ll be damned. Wait ‘til everybody hears I saved the life of Jack Wheat’s woman.”

  Jack rolled his eyes back in his head. It was not a story he wanted going around. “I would have...” he started, but the young man talked on without stopping to let Jack speak.

  “Only my third Rhino and I saved Jack’s Wheat’s woman. My, oh my! That sure does make a fella feel proud. You know, Mr. Wheat, I’m going to catch you one day. Yes, sir! I’m going to catch both Greg Bonner and you before I’m through. Oh, ah, nice to meet you, Miss Jarrett. It’s an honor to have protected such a lovely lady, ma’am.”

  Sheffie only nodded. Her face was red and raw and covered in tears, and she did not feel lovely at all.

  Her horse had calmed and returned to position beside Killer. She said “yes” meekly when Jack asked if she was okay, so Jack slid her back onto her horse. Then, turning to face the young man, he said, “Are you from around here?”

  “Wilsey. Over the rise, there.” Slim pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

  “You might well catch me,” Jack said, “With that cannon you’re carrying. Mind if I take a look?”

  “Sure, Mr. Wheat.” The boy tossed the homebuilt to Jack with a smoothness that indicated little effort, the tassels on his Rhino hunter bracelet waving in the air as he did. The weight of the monstrous gun almost knocked Jack out of his saddle.

  “Forged the barrel myself. Well, with Lobie’s help. He’s the smith in Wilsey. It’ll take a triple load of powder and a double-size ball. All the folks back to town told me it’d knock my shoulder off, but it weren’t that much. I’m a might stronger than I look.” With that the young man sat quiet and motionless, his face carrying a huge grin.

  Jack eyed Slim Ryman briefly, decided the young man was genuine then took a close look at the homebuilt. Besides being huge, the metal work was spectacularly precise. Straight lines were perfectly straight. Even more amazing, curved lines were perfect arcs. He had never seen smith work of this quality. He had never seen metal work of any kind anywhere to compare with this. Not only was it precise, but it was also a thing of beauty. The rifle was downright handsome, a great design. Compared to this weapon, his own homebuilt looked like it had been made by a child.

  “Beautiful rifle. Excellent work. It would take a pretty strong shoulder to fire it,” Jack said. He summoned all his strength and tossed the homebuilt back. The boy caught the weapon with one hand and tossed it into the saddle holster as though it were made of straw. Jack could not help but marvel at the strength of this slender young man.

  “Better get to cutting,” Slim said, “This is a pretty good one.”

  Slim Ryman dismounted and pulled a saw and ruler from his saddlebag. Leaning over the dead Rhino, he called out, “Fifty-nine, six. My biggest yet.”

  “Nice,” Jack said. “Listen, don’t tell anybody else, but if you’ll wrap it in wet leather first, grease the outside of the leather with fat, then put on a second wrap of dry leather, it’ll hold the shrinkage down. Could save you a few millimeters.”

  It had come out, and Jack didn’t understand why. He had never told anyone that secret before.

  “Why, thank you, Mr. Wheat. I’ll do just that.”

  Jack collected the animals then he and Sheffie turned to go, waving to Slim as they did. They hadn’t gone far when Jack noticed one of the pack horses was limping slightly. He stopped to inspect and discovered it had thrown a shoe. Likely made an awkward move in all the commotion, he thought. He redistributed most of the horse’s load to the other three horses. No sense taking a chance on seriously injuring the animal.

  As they rode on, Sheffie remained quiet for the better part of an hour. Jack did, too. He was busy thinking about how embarrassing it was going to be to have the story about a rookie saving Sheffie’s life getting told to everyone Slim knew. Thank goodness it would be a Wilsey story. He did not want something like that getting around in Lisbon, the city he was supposed to ‘save’ from the Rhino plague.

  They crossed an open, treeless valley then the road curved slowly to the right and wound upward toward the crest of the last of the foothills. It was a low range and could be crossed without much effort. Beyond the foothills the world would turn into a vast, gently rolling, fertile plain that stretched all the way to and through Lisbon and beyond to the ocean. But that was tomorrow’s ride. It was getting late. Time to end a harrowing day.

  As the road climbed the foothill range it became tree-lined again, Sheffie reached her hand out and said, “Jack.” She placed her small hand, still pale white and unsteady, in his. “You poor thing.”

  “What? Hey, I was about to shoot it. There was no way I would let...”

  “No, Jack. That creature. It was so horrible. I’m still frightened. I don’t believe I’ll ever be quite the same again. And you’ve gone through this over a hundred times. How could you be so brave? How could you keep going day after day, knowing you could be ripped apart at any time? Oh, Jack.” She squeezed his hand tightly then fell silent again.

  “Oh. Well...” He couldn’t finish. It wasn’t the right moment to tell her that having such a close call had been rare. Nor was there any reason to tell her that most of his kills were done before the Rhino even smelled his presence, much less charged him. And he sure wasn’t going to mention the laser since he hadn’t had to pull it out.

  Their silence continued as they rode on and up and over the crest of the last ridge. Rounding the first sharp curve at the top yielded a panoramic view of the next valley. They stopped and stared. Though the view was shrouded by the tops of the trees growing on the slope below the roadway, they could still see the flat land of the valley stretching all the way to the ocean, which, in turn, stretched into the distance as far as the eye could see.

  The entire valley took on a slight orange glow, the first indication of the coming sunset. Some distance beyond the base of the foothills, around a huge lake, street lights could be seen dotting into existence as they were being lit, their flames flickering brightly. Even though the lights were coming on, the sunset was only starting. There was still enough sunlight to see the buildings. There were more of them in that one area than Sheffie had ever seen in her entire life, all together. Far more. Lisbon!

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “That’s Lisbon, isn’t it? It is so beautiful from here. It looks as though we could reach out and touch it. It’s too late to make it tonight, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It looks a lot closer than it is. It’s still more than half a day’s ride to the edge of the city from here. But we’ll be in Wilsey in a few minutes. Avery said the hotel in Wilsey is the best hotel outside of Lisbon. All the rooms have a great view of the valley. We’ll go up to the room first, but I’ll need to go to the smith’s once we’ve settled in. I’ve got to get a new shoe on the pack horse tonight so we can get an early start in the morning.”

&
nbsp; Chapter 13

  “Turn north, wasn’t it, Toadstool?” Crazy Mac mumbled to his mule. He had named the creature not long after leaving the oasis. There was no reason for the name, but it sounded good to the old man, so he used it. And somehow the mule seemed to understand. Toadstool responded to Mac.

  “Was that what that idiot Bonner said or was that what Jack said?”

  Toadstool let out a hee-haw and shook his head back and forth.

  “Let’s see. Go to the Spine and turn north. Follow the Spine until you find the dead Rhino. Hmm… The Rhino was this side of the Spine, Jack said. Didn’t he? Had to be. No way to get through to the other side. Least ways, not around here. Way south of here there’s some places. Yeah, Jack pointed due west. I remember. He said the Rhino was near the Spine. Jack wouldn’t lie. This has to be right. This side and go north. I know I remember north. Okay. This has to be it. I know we’ve been going this way a long time but let’s keep on going a little longer, Toadstool. It’s got to be right.”

  Mac reached back and patted Toadstool’s rump, and the mule started moving again, plodding along in the same direction they had traveled for far too many hours. Mac took a long draw on the water skin he had served to the mule and said, “We’ve still got a little water, Toadstool. Don’t you worry. We’ll find that Rhino and I’ll prove Greg Bonner’s a bold-faced lying son of a crazed dog. Hell, the bastard drools like he’s got the madness himself. Asshole! Trying to hurt Jack’s good name. We’ll show him. We’ll show everybody.”

  Mac patted the mule on the neck, but Toadstool did not react. He kept his steady pace north along the east side of the Spine, plodding slowly through the dry sand and small rocks.

  “Water. We don’t have much left. Lemme see… There’s something about the water, Toadstool. What was it? We’ve got well less than half a skin from the two I got from that dumbass mail rider, what’s his name. He called you ornery, Toadstool. Can you imagine that? Why, he’s the orneriest son-of-a-bitch I’ve ever seen. And Bonner’s the meanest. They’d make a good pair. No, not a good one. They’d make a bad pair, a real bad pair. Thank goodness Bonner hates everybody so much he won’t team with anybody. Now, let’s see. What was it about the water? I know there’s something I should be remembering, but I don’t remember…”