The last red sliver of sun slipped below the horizon and the day abruptly switched to night. In a daze, I waited for the crickets to begin to sing.
But what I heard was not crickets. I heard roars that tore the air, and footsteps that shook the earth.
It was night, and the scent of my blood was on the breeze, and the river monsters were coming.
Chapter 9
Hunted!
In my brief allotment of daylight, I had spied the river perhaps a mile away. Whatever was making the ground shake must be enormous if I could feel it here. Still, nothing that huge could move quickly; even if it scented me and made straight for the crash site, I still had a few minutes. My first duty was to see if any of the men who had taken me onto the aircraft were actually still alive. I would not leave even my enemies to the mercies of whatever monstrosity haunted these plains after dark.
The footsteps made the wreck shiver. The vibrations quickly increased in frequency until it was almost as if I were caught in a never-ending earth tremor. Either one river monster had a hundred legs, or there were several of the beasts, all charging in my direction, eager for the first taste of their wounded prey. Neither image gave me comfort.
I counted eight men, all dead to the best of my limited ability to tell. It seemed a miracle I alone survived; could the Library have calculated our relative positions and arranged the crash so that I would live? I did not see how it was possible, nor did I see how I could ever ask—in fact, I could not see how I would ever want to know the answer.
The ship itself was largely intact and I briefly toyed with the idea that I might wait out what was coming, but set it by. I had once killed a thunder lizard by crashing an aircar into it, but it had been by no means a sure thing, and I had no way of moving this vessel, let alone using it as a club or a battering ram. That dinosaur had dwarfed that car, and under other circumstances I do not doubt it could have peeled it open like a tin can. To think that these brutes were any less formidable was courting suicide.
I was just shifting the last man, searching for a pulse, when I saw he was lying on a familiar object that made my heart leap: the pistol that Lecaudia had given me after I tossed mine to Timash. I seized on it like a drowning man on a floating log. Whether the monsters would even feel such a puny weapon I did not know, but it was a tool, and tools are what gives Man dominion over the animals. It was modest, but it was an advantage.
My other advantage was a head start.
By my reckoning, it was six or seven miles back to the city, and even at my best I have never been a distance runner. Already I ached all over from the beatings I had received, I was bleeding, and I might well be concussed. How far I could run and how fast were questions I feared to ask, but given the alternative, I would find out.
The lights of Xattaña blazing in the dark must have attracted the monsters at night, accounting for the towers the populace had erected to keep them at bay. I had no idea whether they would bar me as well, but a small voice in the back of my mind assured me that the chances of my getting that far to find out were so meager as to render any such consideration irrelevant. I had enough presence of mind to align myself with one particular building that seemed to end on the straight line that ran from the horrible sounds behind me through the wreck and on to the city. If my pursuers stopped along the way to devour what they found in the downed ship, it could gain me precious minutes. If they followed my trail, they would stumble right over it.
I started off at the best pace I could manage, telling myself that the pain that gripped my legs and the jolting agony to my head were nothing compared to what I was running from. I closed my eyes—just for an instant!—and opened them to find myself drifting to my right, away from my target and extending my run. I forced myself to keep my eyes open from then on, because if I tripped, I might not get up. I prodded myself to stay alert; Maire and the others would be looking for me! As long as I could stay ahead of the monsters I had a chance!
They were faster than I gave them credit for.
There were many of them, some as large as a house, some merely the size of an elephant. They were water creatures, spending their days haunting the muddy deeps of the river that separate Xattaña from the rest of the world. How they could move on land, let alone run, was a mystery. And this mystery very nearly ended my life.
I can only credit my telepathic senses for detecting the thing that was following me, for it made almost no sound and created no booming footsteps—because it had no feet. At no conscious sign, I whipped about to see a twenty-foot long eel rolling end-over-end behind me, and gaining fast. I knew that snakes had long been given credit for such an act, and I knew it was a myth—but no one had told the eel.
The astounding sight was bearing down on me as fast a healthy man could run, let alone me, and within moments it would have rolled right over me, crushing me so that it could uncoil and return to eat me at its leisure, but I simply dodged and it rolled past, unable to maneuver as I had.
When it slowed and released its own tail, it twisted like a giant worm, coming to rest a hundred yards away, its mouth hinged open to show multiple rows of needle teeth. The stench that accompanied its wet hissing cry made me step back and throw my arm before my face. And the worst of it was—
—it was between me and the city.
I risked a swift look backwards, but as far as I could see, the gigantic eel was alone. If there were others, they did not appear to be pursuing me. It was frighteningly obvious that my plan to distract it with the easy meal awaiting it in the shipwreck had failed; probably this nightmare fish had rolled right past it without noticing. But then how did it know to come after me?
The mystery of its hunting patterns was going to have to wait, as its current hunting pattern was all too clear. Its head weaved back and forth, constantly emitting that ghastly hissing and spewing its juices and stink in my direction. I was thankful that at our distance, I had only to cope with the latter. It stretched only about twenty yards; I could easily run around it, but at one end was its mouth, and if I ran for the tail end, it was far enough way that it might twist on its own length and I would find myself running straight into its maw. Not to mention if I did find a way around it, I could never outrun it.
One of us would live to leave this spot, and one would die. I gripped my pistol with desperation, weighing my limited options. Its skin was oily and slick, pulsating slightly in a way that made me ill to look upon. Although I could have scored a hit almost anywhere along the body, I was afraid I would do no more than enrage it. If I were to strike, it must be at the head, but with it constantly moving, I despaired of doing any damage. Loathe as I was to realize it, I must await the beast’s charge, when it would have to focus on its prey.
So why did it not charge? Why had it come so far, with such apparent determination, setting itself squarely in my path, only now to content itself with waiting and making vague threats?
A cold shiver ran down my spine as though something unseen had just draped itself across my shoulders. It had trapped me—now it was waiting for its mate.
There was no time to lose. A second monster eel was even now sneaking up behind me, perhaps even herding a gaggle of its young. The thought of a swarm of these monstrosities aiming for my unprotected back spurred me on. I had always taken the fight to the foe, and this was no different. If I was to die, let it be quickly.
Holding the pistol out before me like a sword, I ran straight for the Thing, which abruptly halted and stared at me with an expression that must have been the river monster equivalent of complete shock. Lest the moment pass and all be lost, I fired on the run, peppering its face and snout and mouth with a ragged scattershot. If naught else, maybe I could confuse it, or distract it long enough to seize further advantage. I saw black marks appear and smoke dot its visage before the very last miraculous shot struck the eel-monster right in the left eye—which flickered.
An instant later the entire eye socket exploded outward with a shower of sparks.
The eel screamed in a high-pitched whine and thrashed about, slamming its blind side into the dirt as though to fight the pain. I was almost thrown from my feet by its violence. I wanted to run—I should have run—but this last and greatest mystery kept me rooted even as the great beast howled and kicked and twisted in agony. My hindbrain was shrieking at me to flee—the noise was sure to attract every creature on the plain—but I needed to know why a prehistoric water monster had electronic eyes.
Then there was new roar from behind and above me, and I was literally staggered by a blast of hot fetid air. At the same time the screaming monster eel writhed and slapped the earth, and I lost my balance and I fell. My time to flee had run out.
Chapter 10
A Terrible Theory
With no idea what sort of enormous maw might be even now drawing open to swallow me in a single gulp, I hit the ground rolling. Tucking my arms in, I began frantically to roll myself to one side, expecting any moment to feel rows of serrated teeth tearing into my back and legs. There was a dull boom and the ground shook; I opened my eyes and I was staring at an eye the size of a dinner plate not a foot away. The beast had pounced on me, banging its nose into the ground, but I had not been there. Unsure whether its tiny saurian brain could even comprehend what I had done, I froze.
It drew its head up again with agonizing slowness, as if the very concept was new to it, and looked about. A couple of years before I returned, there had been a newspaper picture of a supposed monster sighted in a Scottish lake. I had not believed it to be real, but I was now prepared to change my mind. A head that was half hinged jaw sat atop a long sinuous neck, leading down to a bulbous body supported by four webbed claws as large as St. Bernards. I could not see how such a creature could move with any alacrity on land, but I had no doubts that were I to move, that long neck would whip around with blinding speed and I would be snapped up like a darting fish.
Then the eel let loose another unearthly shriek, and I was rendered insignificant. The new menace paused as if it had only just noticed the other, and in an instant lunged to the attack!
As soon as I saw which way the wind was blowing, I abandoned all caution, scrambled to my feet and ran, which was fortunate, else I would have been crushed—and I would have missed one of the most astounding sights of my life.
Perhaps these animals were natural enemies, or perhaps it was only the bloodlust that my presence had raised, but the dinosaur struck like a cobra, sinking its teeth into the eel’s body and shaking it like a dog with a stick. But the eel was capable of turning almost on its own length, and it bit a chunk out of the other’s shoulder near the neck. I backpedaled some more to avoid the sprays of blood as these two behemoths began to tear at each other, bouncing with every tremor their struggling bodies caused. I had to hold my hands over my ears to block their screeching, hissing cries of pain and fury—and almost thereby lost my life yet again. There had been more than two monsters in that river, and they were all headed straight toward the battle which so had me transfixed—but with my hands over my ears I never heard them coming.
At the penultimate moment of my life, I spun around at the urging of some primordial instinct to find myself confronted with a skirmish line of charging and lurching Jurassic hell-beasts that Man was never meant to face. Whether they were hunting me or their fellows made no difference, as within a few heartbeats I would be crushed, slashed, or eaten alive.
And then they were gone in a flash of light, their only remnant a cloud of vapor and the sight of a single headless saurian collapsing to the ground. As one, they turned and fled.
An angel called my name from above. I saw her alight on the Earth, and she ran to me. Had she not supported me I thought I would have fallen.
“I don’t like to get into the middle of these things,” Timash said, “but I have to agree with Maire on this one, Keryl. You look like one of those things ate you and then spit you out.”
I shook my head stubbornly, and regretted it instantly. I had not been aware that it could hurt any more than it did, but now I knew.
“No!” Even that hurt. “There are things I have to know—that we have to know. Those monsters were not natural.”
Maire and Timash exchanged exasperated looks. After carting me back to The Dark Lady, they had managed (mostly because Timash would not put me down) to get me into our cabin, but I would not allow any first aid until I had had my say.
“Keryl,” Timash began gently, “they were re-engineered dinosaurs. Of course they weren’t natural. But we knew that; the Xatañans put them there.”
“That is not what I meant.” I took a swig of water, then another. I was terribly thirsty, and I could feel my strength fading. But if I let Maire minister to me, she would take the ship away from here and my questions would never be answered; the evidence would be destroyed. “There is no way those creatures lived in that river together.”
“Keryl, you’re not making any sense.” Maire’s worry almost vibrated in the air. “We know they live in the river. We saw them running back to it after we got you on the ship. That’s why they call them ‘river monsters.’“
“My point exactly,” I rasped. I needed another swig to clear my throat, but it was not much help. I had been through too much and my body was giving up the fight against collapse. “No one habitat could possibly support all of those creatures. They would kill each other. How could there be so many?”
“But we saw two of them fighting,” Timash argued.
“Yes, because one was wounded and the other could not resist. But the one I wounded—I shot it in the eye, and the eye shattered.” I paused for breath. “Not exploded, not even melted. It shattered, like glass. And sparked.”
Maire took a second to respond. “A cyborg?”
“I think the Xattañans were monitoring the monsters’ every move—if not actually controlling them.”
“But why?” Timash asked. “And how? And—why?”
“Why did the Vulsteen put us in the arena against the breen?” I knew they knew the answer.
“They left you out there for sport?” Maire jumped to her feet, so angry that she shouted her orders aloud. “Skull! Take us back to the Institute! I want Dr. Wilner to answer some questions and I want him now!”
Whatever response she got, I was unable to hear it, because I had finally surrendered to the rising darkness.
Chapter 11
A Dubious Honor
I awoke feeling better than I had any right to feel. I flexed my limbs; they were all attached and responding to instructions. My head was the proper size, nor I could tell that there was blood seeping out of any open wounds. The ceiling of the room in which I lay glowed with a mild, pearly light that did not hurt my eyes in the slightest, and I was lying not on hard-packed earth but a very comfortable surface. Had not my curiosity overridden all other concerns, I would happily have drifted back to sleep.
I lifted my head to see my wife slumped in a chair next to my bed, fast asleep. A soft chime sounded as I raised myself, and she awoke instantly, her anxious expression replaced by a small but radiant smile when she saw me looking at her.
“You’ve been asleep for two days.”
“I suppose I needed it. I feel much better than I remember.”
She gently touched the side of my head, then lifted the white tunic I was wearing to peer at my chest.
“You look much better than I remember. Are you ready to get up? We have work to do.”
I sighed. “For one of the few times since I came to this era, I can completely relax, and now you want me to get up and go back to work. I thought I had left the army back in the 20th century.”
Maire reached out her arms to help me up, and not incidentally to hold me for a long moment that was years too short.
After a minute, she said off-handedly, “Funny you should mention that.”
I pulled back, but she was looking away in a guilty fashion. I frowned. “What does that mean?” I had been drafted into the Nuum army once before, an
d I had betrayed my post by deserting at the first opportunity. Then, I had led a small guerilla force to occupy the very outpost I was supposed to be defending. I doubted my service record was anything to be proud of.
Maire stood, drawing me to my feet.
“Let’s get you some decent clothes first. Then we can talk.”
I had never been married before, and truthfully my romantic entanglements had been few, but I had known enough women to understand that “talking” was never good—particularly when the woman in question wanted to put off the “talking” by means of an unrelated task. And yet I perceived no anxiety on Maire’s part, no sense that she was hiding something unpleasant. It seemed I must go along for the ride.
A wall seemed to dematerialize, revealing a spacious closet containing exactly one outfit. For a Nuum, I would almost call it restrained: a midnight blue tunic blouse with puffy sleeves slashed with gold bands, and bright yellow trousers, tight-fit, belted with a black buccaneer’s sash. Tall black boots sat on the floor.
“It looks like a pirate going to his high school prom.”
Some things just did not translate, even telepathically, and as usual when faced with such, Maire ignored me, at once pointedly and diplomatically.
“Just put it on,” she requested. “Please. It’s important that you’re dressed the part.”
Had anyone else in the world said that to me, I would have stopped right then and demanded a full explanation. In fact, I probably would have returned to bed and refused to move until I was satisfied that it was not all some elaborate practical joke. But this was my wife, and if I refused to trust her, then everything I had spent twenty years dreaming of was a sham. I undressed and put on the outfit, which like all modern clothes, immediately resized itself to fit me perfectly.
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