by David Boyle
A few strokes and they were approaching mid-river, Hayden there hauling the boat into a sweeping right turn. “Spin her around!” he shouted, stroking to point the Discovery upriver, the predator trailing in their wake. “Mark, ease off….”
“Fuck that!” Mark hollered, twitchy on adrenaline, the dinosaur snorting somewhere behind the boat. “I’ll slow down once we’re away from her!”
“We do that, and she’ll give up and head to shore. And maybe follow us home. But stay out here, and there’s a chance she’ll keep after us until she’s exhausted.”
Mark looked back, his paddle chattering against the gunnel. The big head resembled a Buick cruising the water, the glaring eyes ever eager. But the game had changed once again, and with the two of them in control of the canoe, Sabrefang hadn’t a prayer of getting any closer than they let her. “Alright,” he said, relenting, his shoulders going limp. “Just not too close, okay?”
Hayden glanced over his shoulder every second or third stroke, watching to ensure Sabrefang was still interested as the current carried the Discovery slowly around the bend. “So, how far down are they?”
Mark lifted his paddle. “How far down?”
“To Ron and Wheajo. And what did you do with the Tripper?”
Sabrefang snorted, and Mark glanced when she turned away. Hayden swiped at the water. “You’re not giving up on us, are you?” Another swipe, and water showered her face, the infuriated predator renewing her efforts to catch the two-headed creature cruising just beyond her reach. Hayden flicked his paddle at the end of his next stroke, a garbled snarl signaling her displeasure. “That’s right… keep coming.”
Seconds passed, and Hayden was still waiting for an answer. “You’re making me nervous, Mark. Where are they?”
“They’re dead, alright? Ron when we got back to the river, and Wheajo an hour or so ago a couple of miles from here.” Mark missed a stroke, staring off… then went to stroking again. “It just all went to hell. One fucking day… and everything we’ve worked for fell to pieces.”
Hayden took a stroke, blinking, Mark’s revelation still sinking in when his paddle banged something hard. “Shit!” he yelped, powering forward when he realized it was Sabrefang’s snout. The dinosaur snorted, struggling to stay afloat, then turned and swam wearily toward shore.
“I have to get off the river. Seriously, I can’t take this anymore. We do this quick, maybe we can make it to the channel before she gets her wind back.”
Hayden could feel his arms working the paddle. “Both of them? And the boat?” His long time partner nodded. “The brizva too?”
Mark was up to speed. “That’s almost the worst part,” he said, pumping. “It’s in the pack, charged up and ready to go. And unless Wheajo showed you or Bull how to operate the thing, as useless as when we started.”
*****
Charlie was propped on his crutch, Mike strutting nearby as the Discovery approached. Mark was in front, Hayden in back, an all-too-obvious gap in between. They grounded the boat. Mark slumped across his paddle. Hayden sat there, a blank stare on his face.
Mike padded about the bank, sniffing curiously, minutes passing in silence as they struggled with the knowing that their worst fears had come to pass. A bloodied section of camouflage showed through the rip in the backpack. “The brizva?” Charlie croaked, a tear on his cheek.
“Charged and ready, for all the good it’ll do.”
The light was fading when finally they hauled the canoe into camp. Charlie was staring into the fire, Mark, then Hayden collapsing beside him. Charlie saw the blood on his shirt, and offered Mark the bota. “So what the fuck happened?”
“The day started for shit, went to fantastic, and as soon as we got to the river pretty much blew up in our faces.” Struggling to maintain his composure, Mark walked them through the shock of seeing the lake and what the dawzon had done to the island, and how, after threatening Wheajo, they’d paddled across and found the brizva. How happy he’d been. And how everything had gone horridly wrong as soon as they got to the river, Ron the first to die, then Wheajo.
“There just wasn’t anything I could do,” he sobbed. “I told him I was sorry. Maybe he heard me, maybe not. His throat was…. God, it was awful.
“It should have been one of us laying there, not him. I mean, he was us.”
“You did the best you could do.”
“And he’s still dead. Him and McClure.” Mark shook his head. “I keep telling myself there was something I should have done different. But when we got to the junction, the bastards just charged. I took a shot, but nothing, and we both started running. It's thicker than shit, and right off we got separated. I managed to kill the bastard that got him, and another one, too, but by then it was too late. I found him piled in a bunch of crap, a hole in his back, bleeding. He was just so fucked up. I tried stopping the bleeding, but I just couldn't….”
Hayden sighed. “Sometimes, no matter what you do, it isn’t enough.”
“Ron’s dead. Wheajo’s dead. And we are too because of me!” Mark clasped his hands to his face. “He just kept on taking the lead….”
Charlie hunched back from the woodpile. “You couldn’t make out what he said?”
“I tried, believe me. But whatever ripped his neck must have damaged his translator. He was trying to tell me something. The look on his face. The pain.” Mark cringed. “Even he knew it wasn’t in English, but with his dying breath Wheajo was trying to tell me something important.” The brizva was on the table, charred but functional, and useless for want of knowing how to operate the thing.
“This can’t be happenin’… The fightin’ we’ve done. The scrapin’. Sabrefang tearin’ away my damn leg! And we’re gonna die here anyway? I mean, what the fuck? What’s it all been for? Answer me that, will ya? What the fuck’s it all for! First Delgado. Now McClure and Wheajo!” Charlie glanced around the campsite in near panic. “Don’t you get it? We’re next!”
There was nothing to say, and no good answers. “We’ll think of something. We always have.”
“We’re stuck here, Prentler. And I’m talkin’ forever! And when the river bottoms out, Sabrefang’s gonna come walkin’ on over here, and when she gets here she’s gonna kill us! So think, Bennett! What the fuck did he say?”
“I told you I can’t remember.”
Charlie snorted. “Can’t remember. Then we are dead. And you can pass me the magnum ‘cause I ain’t sickin’ around long enough to get eaten!”
“There’s no rea—”
“You think I’m kiddin’? Well, I ain’t. Bennett here either comes up with what Wheajo told him, or we might as well put a bullet in our heads right now.”
“That’s enough,” Hayden said, glaring across the fire.
“Tony’s not in your head screamin’ like he is in mine,” Charlie said, turning. “You wanna end up like he did? Be my guest. And call me a coward, but I have no trouble taking the easy way out instead’a being ripped to fuckin’ pieces.” He glared at Mark, then hobbled off toward the landing.
“After all this time, and I don’t mean just here, I kept telling myself that we can pull this off, like we always have. Wheajo, his ship, and all his fancy plans. And it worked. Maybe not like he figured, but it did work.
“And now it’s up to us. You, really. You either remember what Wheajo said, even if it’s just syllables, or we are going to die here.” Hayden paused to gather his thoughts. “You said you don’t remember. But I’m betting you do. Go back to where it happened. You’re with Wheajo. Listen, and tell me what he said.”
Mark closed his eyes. “Something taba bryva…,” he said, frowning. “Fenkor bri a, maybe?” He wiped his forehead. “He didn’t say hardly anything to begin with, and I was too shocked to listen. I mean… he was dying!
“I remember the ringing in my ears, and how my hand hurt.” He wiggled his fingers. “Still does, actually. But the words… they’re just not there.”
Hayden could see his friend was stru
ggling. “You and me, we got nowhere to go. And I’m not giving up. Whatever Wheajo said is in that thick skull of yours, and one way or another, we’re going to pry it out of there.”
Mark nodded. “I want to remember.”
“I know you do.” Hayden took a breath. “Try going back to the beginning. Tell me what you thought when you got to the lake.”
“But what’s that got—”
“Stop engineering and work with me, okay? Just let it come. You got to the lake, and then what?”
“Before or after we saw that the island had been blown to pieces?”
“Your choice,” Hayden got to his feet. “We can’t have more than half a dozen left. How about I get you a beer before we start?”
“No shit?” said Mark. “Guess we did better stretching them than I realized. And what, you trying to loosen me up?”
“After what all it sounds like happened to you today? Yeah, I guess I am.”
They’d been at it for over an hour, Hayden listening and at the same time getting Mark to concentrate on the details and getting him to relax in preparation for the parts to come. Later he’d ask what happened with Ron, but for now he had Mark bypass the horrific stuff and skipped him ahead to the journey back. With first-hand knowledge concerning the forest and the trackway, Hayden could well imagine how frightened Mark was by the prospect of walking home.
“…the fuckers are like from here to the tent, and they’re rushing past like a train on legs. And the last one trots on by. And I’m thinking ‘good riddance’ when Wheajo sticks his nose out and decides to follow them.”
“They sound like the ones that chased that thing on the lake. Follow them? That I probably wouldn’t have done.”
“Me neither. Except that Wheajo’s serious. He waves, and the next thing I know we’re running behind a herd of triceratops. Insane is what it was.”
Hayden glance at the tent, Charlie off feeling sorry for himself when he should have been here and listening.
“…Wheajo goes one way, I go another, the bastards pounding after us through the trees. I shot the first one, and he’s all pissed, so I shot him once or twice more. And the second one is charging after Wheajo, and I pop him too. And he drops his head, and the next thing I know, Wheajo is flying through the air. Last shot, bang, and the bastard takes off, blood shooting out like from a hose.
“I jump off the trunk, and just like that, everything looks different. I rip through the crap, half out of my mind, and I hear the bastard that gored Wheajo pile into the trees. The other one, who knows where, but he’s gone. I know Wheajo is hurt. And I’m yelling, following blood on the leaves. And I finally break free. And there’s Wheajo. One of his legs is busted to hell. There’s this god-awful hole in his back. Big gash in his throat.”
“Sounds awful,” Hayden said, churning on the inside while trying to sound calm and analytical.
“I just… I didn’t want to look.” Mark’s face twisted in anguish. “He never had a chance. The way the bushes were tangled. The vines and shit. I had to cut my way just to get him to the fucking river.
“So I get to him, and I’m thinking he’s dead when I noticed him squirm. I lift his head and tell him I’m sorry. There’s blood spilling down the side of his face. And he grabs my arm. ‘Ca bot fentor… ca bot zintor et tu…?’ Something like that. I told him to save his strength, and I’m wondering what to do. Wheajo’s struggling. ‘Tar bri’, something. ‘Kento ya bok. Who fen, ca bot’.
“It didn’t make sense then. And it still doesn’t.”
“Maybe, but you said a couple of things that might.”
“I did?”
“Sounds more than anything. Bits and pieces. Could Wheajo have been talking about the brizva? You’ve said ‘bri’ in context a couple of times now, and earlier too. A connection maybe?”
“That’s stretching it, but yeah… I… I guess that’s possible.”
“And you used the terms ‘ya bok’ and ‘ca bot’, one or the other like twice.”
“Yeah, that I remember. Utar ya bok, that’s it. And later on, fen something cabok.” Mark paused, nodding. “I think that’s what he said. And so what? What’s ca bot?”
Hayden stared through the fire. “Ca bot… ca bat,” he mumbled, then came up with a start. “Not ca bot… yal tok. Wheajo says one thing, but what comes out is distorted. Mark, he was telling you—telling us—that there’s a connection between the brizva and the yaltok.”
“Now you are stretching it. That didn’t come across at all. Not to me, and I was there. And okay, let’s say there is. What the hell does that buy us?”
“Did Wheajo do anything to the brizva after you found it? Make adjustments, or do any reprogramming like he did with the yaltok?”
“I don’t think so, and I was damn near in his face when he fired the thing up. A couple of keystrokes to turn the thing on, and a couple more to check its status. It showed just like on the beach that first day, only the status bar was blue top-to-bottom. The way Wheajo talked, I got the impression the brizva shut itself down before it overloaded.”
“Which the dawzon couldn’t do.”
Mark took a sip, nodded. “That’s my understanding.”
“Then the thing we need to check is the yaltok.”
They hurried over and shooed Mike from the doorway. “Wake up, Bull. We need to get a look at the yaltok.”
Charlie rolled over. “Like I can sleep after what’s happened…. Why?”
“We need to look at it is all,” Hayden said.
“How bout I do that instead? Wheajo made some adjustments that he was real specific about me not messin’ with.”
“You don’t say?” Mark looked to Hayden while Charlie dug through his pack. “When was that?”
“Not sure exactly,” Charlie said, and sat back. “Wheajo had it set pretty high, and I think he was worried about me makin’ adjustments. Which I kinda tried once or twice.”
“I’ll be damned. You might be right.”
“Got your flashlight handy?” Hayden asked.
Charlie reached to the pocket stitched to the wall. “What’s this about?”
“I gather this latest is a different set of inputs from what you’ve been using to treat your leg.”
“You gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”
“There’s a possibility Wheajo was trying to tell me something about either the brizva or the yaltok. We’ve kind of ruled out the brizva, and the only thing left is this thing.”
“And now you’re saying he made some unusual adjustments. Kind of coincidental don’t you think?”
“I don’t know. The way he talked was more a reminder. Like I should’na been messin’ with it in the first place.”
“And this was recently?”
“If you call the thing with Tony recently, then yeah.”
Hayden and Bennett exchanged glances. “Like I said, way too coincidental for my blood.” Hayden looked to Charlie. “Go ahead, Bull. Fire it up.”
The yaltok had been Charlie’s salvation, and after all the lectures he’d gotten about how to and how not to use it, Charlie was reluctant to act counter to instructions. “I don’t know, guys. Wheajo was real specific.”
“Weren’t you the one about having nothing left to live for? So we activate the self-destruct,” Mark said. “What else is there to lose?”
“It’s this or a bullet.”
Charlie swallowed. “Just in case, how about we do this outside?”
They built up the fire, and once they could see well enough, Charlie set the yaltok on the table with the analyzer’s face directed at the forest. “You really want to do this?”
Mark was ready to burst. “Press it already, would you?”
Charlie activated the yaltok, then pressed the combination of controls that he’d been specifically instructed not to. He jerked his hand way.
A series of lights blinked on….
“Humans. You have called me friend, and so shall I return the compliment, for
over the days spent together I have come to consider you friends as well.
“Mr. Delgado’s loss was regrettable, and to you I extend my sympathies. As a consequence, and in the event of my own demise, I leave you the following instructions to ensure that my death not cause yours as well. Presuming the brizva has been recovered intact and functional, the instructions to follow will allow you it to return to our point of origin. I request that you take whatever measures are necessary to ensure that neither to brizva or yaltok come into possession of your military or other authorities, as doing so could cause more harm than good.”
They sat spellbound as Wheajo described the control sequences needed to operate the brizva, followed by instructions that allowed them to replay the recording as often as necessary. As their journey through time was so immense, Wheajo stated that he had not altered the brizva’s controls in any way, fearing that even the slightest alteration could affect their reentry by hundreds, if not thousands of years. They were directed to return to their point of entry with the stipulation that only from that unique location would the spatial and temporal conditions exist for a reciprocal transport to their original timeline.
“I cannot over emphasize the precision you must achieve prior to activating the brizva, as deviations can result in unknown consequences.” When activated, the brizva would teleport them the same temporal distance as was covered originally, their arrival time shifted by the same number of hours as had passed since their arrival.
“You are an extraordinary species, and while your many rituals will remain an enigma, I have nevertheless learned much about, and from you. My time spent in your presence has, shall I say, been informative,” Wheajo continued. “My mission has failed, and it is with profound regret that I am unable to convey the information obtained regarding the many unique and noteworthy species, including yours, to my associates and the Grotky collective.
