Savage Survival

by Darrell Bain

  Lyda had rehearsed the speech in her mind and was surprised she was able to remember it almost word for word.

  “Anyone wanting to join the task force. please tell Jimmy. It's about a two day trip to Rockner's camp, near as we can tell. The task force will start tomorrow morning."

  Lyda breathed deeply. So much for that. She had wanted to get all that business out of the way first. Now for the rest.

  “I want to thank every one here for the absolutely wonderful way you performed your duties last night. You were magnificent. If I had medals to award, I'd give you all one. As it is, all I can say is th—thank ... thank you.” For the first time, Lyda's voice broke with emotion.

  While she waited to get herself under control, Gary leaned over and whispered, “I've already got some people to drag the bodies out away from here. You're doing fine. Keep on."

  Lyda let her gaze roam over the rest of the prisoners. They avoided making eye contact with her. She knew what they must be thinking. Am I next? What is she going do to us? Oh God, I'm scared! Damn Big Bill! She could almost read their thoughts.

  Lyda spoke loud enough so the assembled Team and prisoners both could hear her. “We're going to strip these people to their underwear, take them out into the desert and point them in a direction away from us.” She looked directly at the prisoners, sitting with their hands tied, for the next part of her speech. “If any of you come back in this direction, or if we ever find any of you associating with people like Big Bill and Little Charlene again, you won't get a second chance.” She pointed to the two bodies. “Take a good look at your leaders before you go. That's what's waiting for you if you go bad again."

  Gary had men waiting. They got the remainder of Big Bill's gang together, stripped them, and marched them away, hands still tied. A long way off, two or three of them would have their restraints removed and they would be left there to untie their companions. As Lyda watched them recede into the distance, she wondered how many of the others the first ones to have their bonds cut would free. She thought there was a possibility that some of the really bad ones would be left as they were, to either free themselves if they could, or perish in the desert. The executions had been a very explicit example for them to remember.

  Once the prisoners were gone and the morning meal began to be served, Lyda was relieved to see a lot of conversations spring up, accompanied by smiles and laughter here and there. She knew it was going to be all right now.

  On the way back to her office, she stopped for a moment as a sudden little cramp passed through her lower belly. A few minutes later, she felt the first wetness between her thighs. As she hurried toward the sanitary area, she thought how fitting it was. At the moment of her triumph and the consolidation of her leadership, she became a fully functional woman.

  * * * *

  Gary was insistent she remain behind while he led the task force for the attack on the Rocky Mount Gang. “You can't leave. I know you'd like to be there, but much as the Team admires and likes you, this is still an unstable situation. You need to stay here and keep the place going."

  Lyda didn't argue very hard against him. She knew he was right.

  Just before the task force got under way the next morning, Lyda took Gary aside. She pulled her pistol from its pocket and handed it to him. “Just in case they're armed, too. Remember the shots we've heard.” She added the box of cartridges to the pistol. “Just bring it back, okay?"

  “Will do. Have you replaced the shells you used?"

  “Yes. It's fully loaded. Sorry, I should have told you."

  “That's okay, I would have checked anyway. Never assume a gun has less than a full load. There are gremlins who go around putting shells back into guns you've just taken them out of."

  “Dad always said there's no such thing as an unloaded gun."

  “Smart man. You be good now.” Unaccountably, he bent down and kissed her cheek while pretending to whisper in her ear, then stood up and gave her a salute that everyone could see.

  “Be careful, Gary. We can't afford to lose you.” She stood a lonely vigil, watching them until they were only a blot in the distance.

  * * * *

  “You're bullshitting, right?” Rockner stared at the two dehydrated, sunburned and very subdued men who had just been brought to him.

  “No, no, it's true. A little girl. Her gang ambushed us, slick as a band of Indians.” The man's voice was croaky from a swollen tongue.

  “Tell me everything that happened."

  “Water. We gotta have some water. Can't ... can't talk without water."

  Begrudgingly, Rockner allowed them enough so they were able to tell their tale. As they talked, each interrupting the other from time to time to add details or fill in something the other had missed, the rest of his gang edged closer, listening as avidly as he was. The underage girls began to lose the dead expressions they regularly wore on their faces. Traces of hope began to animate their expressions. Some of the adults began to look fearful and stare warily into the distance, as if an attack by an avenging horde led by Supergirl was just over the horizon. Others simply looked thoughtful.

  Within a few hours, the Rocky Mount gang was on the verge of rebellion. The situation became even more explosive when a dreadfully sunburned woman, wearing only her bra and panties, arrived and confirmed the tale, especially the part about Big Bill and his chief companion being executed by a girl not yet in her teens that Rockner had only half-believed. She told it more dramatically, making Lyda both younger and more aggressive than the truth justified, and warning them the young girl was on the way toward them at the head of a huge, avenging army.

  The next morning, Rockner was dead, his skull crushed by one of his erstwhile assistants who took his gun and other possessions and vanished. The gang quickly broke into quarreling factions and soon afterwards, only anarchy ruled the area.

  * * * *

  “I appointed a few of our people I thought we could spare to get the place organized and operating like our Team before we came back,” Gary told Lyda. He grinned at her with an expression almost resembling worship. “Just the thought that you might be heading in their direction was all it took to get the ball rolling. I have to apologize about being hesitant at first, Miss Brightner. It just goes to show what a good example will do for people. Hell, maybe your influence will spread out and take in the whole shebang here!” He produced Lyda's pistol and the box of ammunition and handed them to her.

  Lyda grinned happily back at him, awed at Gary's story of how her supposed prowess had instigated a revolt—and how her idea of fair treatment for everyone was spreading.

  “Dad said ideas were the most powerful weapons on earth in the long run."

  “I wish I could have met your dad. He..."

  A swishing noise in the distance, along with a sudden cacophony of voices, interrupted whatever Gary intended to say.

  Lyda looked all around, then followed the motion of Gary's pointing finger. An armada of the alien transport craft could be seen in the distance. As they watched, it began to disperse into individual units that went off in different directions, but all came lower, telegraphing their intentions. The whole concentration camp area was going to be covered. Lyda felt her spirits drop into an abyss of despair, like she had felt as she first realized she was never going to see Mom and Dad again.

  No! she thought desperately. I won't. Those monsters will never make a coward of me. I'll face them and let them do their damnedest and someday, I'll find a way to beat them. I swear I will! She stood defiantly with her fists clenched and eyes blazing with anger as the transport crafts landed and began disgorging hordes of spider mechs.

  * * *

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  This time, Lyda was conscious after being herded into the craft with most of her followers. She tried to stay alert and learn about the aliens while it was happening, but it was very difficult. The spidery mechanicals were still as scary as ever. A discordant thought raced through her mind as she looked over her
shoulder at one of them while it herded her and some others toward one of the transport craft. Did the aliens purposely make their constructs look like the most feared of earthly insects? If so, why? She had no more time to reflect as the transport entrance loomed before her, a giant jaw spread out at ground level, devouring people like popcorn being poured into an open mouth.

  Lyda ran inside, joining the yelling, screaming throngs already there. More bodies pushed inside from behind until the entrance was clear, then it snapped shut like a steel trap closing. Acceleration immediately flung her to the floor, pinning her there. Another body landed across her legs like a big log. She tried to squirm loose, but was unable to move enough. She could see little other than a few sprawled bodies in front of her. She felt the circulation below her waist being cut off. Her legs began to ache horribly and the backpack bit cruelly into her shoulders. Fortunately, that part of the trip didn't last long. The acceleration eased and she was able to get her legs loose and sit up.

  Lyda looked around to see if any of her people were near. She saw a few, but none of the council, and there were others she didn't recognize at all. The transport had obviously gathered in others before landing near her camp. Her gaze strayed upward. The ceiling was only about ten feet above her head but receded into the distance until human figures and its bland color blended together. The thing was bigger inside than it had looked from the outside. She remembered from talking to others that none of their journeys after being captured had lasted more than a few minutes. She waited for this one to end but it went on and on. She hadn't been wearing a watch when captured, so she had no way of telling time until she asked a woman near her.

  “What does it matter?” the woman said despondently. “They'll just take us to someplace worse."

  Lyda tried to cheer her up. “Maybe not. You didn't say how long it's been since we took off."

  The woman looked at her watch, then shook her wrist. “It's stopped. Who cares anyway?” She put her arms across her knees and rested her head on them, hiding her face.

  Lyda wondered if she dared get to her feet and try to move around. She decided to try. When she stood up, she discarded the idea. There was simply no room, and most everyone was either sitting or laying down, so it did give her a better vantage point. There were at least a thousand people in the bay with her, a mixture of adults and children of all ages—but again, all Caucasian.

  Abruptly, she felt something different in her bones and managed to sit down again before another surge of heavy acceleration hit her. Or maybe it's just some kind of gravity, she thought. There's no way to tell in here. She heard voices saying something about this trip being different than the last one. Another said it was taking longer. Both voices were strained by the forces pressing on their chests.

  The sense of increased weight wasn't as hard to bear this time; she had managed to turn upon her side before she was unable to move. After the first surge, she had thought about taking off the backpack and holding it, but she didn't want to take a chance on being separated from it. She felt grateful that if this had to happen, at least it came during daylight so she was wearing the pack and her light jacket; it held most of her worldly possessions—whatever world she was on now.

  Another surge, a period of normal gravity, then another surge, longer this time. Wherever they were going, Lyda thought it must be a long way off. Off? As in off the earth completely? The idea crept into her mind and refused to go away, even after the stink of released body wastes began to distract her from other thoughts. The smell only enhanced an urge to relieve herself. It wasn't urgent yet, but couldn't be delayed forever, either.

  A different kind of noise intruded on her senses, a rumble accompanied by a sudden jerk, as if the transport had landed somewhere. Lyda certainly hoped so. Wherever the aliens were taking them, she wanted the voyage to be over! While she was still occupied with this thought, the entrance they had come through irised open along its top and sides. At the same time, a pressure of some sort swept over the compartment, impelling everyone toward the opening.

  Lyda felt it as a force pressing against her body and forcing her to her feet. The line of induced movement was irresistible. Screams, yells and curses erupted in the packed compartment. Lyda had to shuffle desperately in order to keep her feet; others didn't, and fell to be trampled underfoot. There was no possibility of order, and what little chance there might have been was quickly dispelled when the mass of humanity turned into a scared mob, struggling to make sense of their surroundings.

  When Lyda was near the opening to what she thought was the outside, she saw it was merely a long, narrow alcove and that people were being separated and shoved by unseen forces into a series of smaller apertures. Each of these quickly took one person at a time, and shuttled them rapidly out of sight into dark, narrow tunnels lit only by reflected light from the transport bay.

  Lyda didn't try to hold back when her turn came; she knew there was nothing to be gained by resisting. Instead, she tried to stay calm and see what she could learn. It was precious little. She couldn't see; all she could feel was the floor and a breeze blowing past her body. It's the floor that's moving now, she thought. That calculation proved right a moment later when she was dumped out into a huge construct that looked as if it were trying to imitate a planet and doing a bad job of it. She stumbled forward several paces, then came to a halt. The wall next to her and the floor were made of a metallic looking pinkish brown substance with a slight give to it, like an indoor/outdoor carpet. She didn't know how large the room was, if indeed it was a room. It seemed to stretch off into the distance forever, broken up here and there by columns of green vegetable matter, she thought. There were also waist high trays containing other growing things that trailed tendrils over their edges. There were boxy obstacles of various sizes scattered throughout, looking more like storage huts than anything else. The roof was far overhead; she wasn't able to judge the distance. The green columns appeared to taper as they went higher but she couldn't tell immediately whether it was because they were smaller up there, or because the ceiling was so far away.

  “Move it, girl,” a voice said rudely from behind her. A big hand shoved at her back.

  Rather than resist, Lyda ran forward a short distance before turning to look. She had learned; she had no intention of being taken captive by any man again. She saw people popping out of apertures that merged with the wall as far to the left and right as she could see. She thought she could discern a faint curvature to it in the distance, but couldn't be sure. All she knew was that the immediate space was becoming filled with humanity. And she knew none of them. She decided to get away from the people, quickly; there would be time to make friends later, if she could. Right now, knowledge about this new environment took precedence.

  * * * *

  Lyda wandered for hours, trying to keep track of which way she went but as soon as she lost sight of the wall, it became impossible. Once she found it again, she decided to keep it in sight as a reference point. She also thought most people she saw were gravitating toward what they thought might be the center. Lyda didn't want people just yet, not if she didn't already know them. She wanted to explore and find out what dangers might lurk unsuspectingly around the next greenery covered column or in the next tray or behind the next boxy thing. She had already been unpleasantly surprised once. Looking over the edge of one of the first of the ubiquitous long trays that always grew from the floor near the huge columns, she had seen that it was mostly empty space. It was waist high like all the rest would prove to be, but the bottom and inside walls were covered with short green tendrils. Longer tendrils waved upwards or grew over the sides in random patterns. She felt one of the flat, inch wide growths. It was as soft as refined cotton and almost as tough to tear.

  Taking advantage of some momentary privacy, Lyda climbed into the tray and used it as a bathroom. Just as she was finishing, a little six legged furry rodent nipped her foot, as if sampling her flesh for a possible future meal. Startled, Lyd
a almost yelled before she got control of herself. She used some of the torn tendrils to hurriedly wipe while she kept a wary eye out for more of the little animals. Or whatever it was. The green tendrils didn't appear to hurt her. She tore off some more and took them along.

  There were still people about, but none that threatened. Several teenage boys tried to make conversation, but she rebuffed them politely. She felt the boys had probably been attracted by her looks as much as anything else with all the changes taking place in her body. She wasn't ready to associate with anyone yet, and especially not in a sexual manner. She might be growing up faster than she would have back in Texas—or is our sense of time being distorted? she suddenly wondered. No matter, she couldn't do anything about it, even if it were true. She noticed most people seemed to be more dazed than interested, and nowhere did she ever see anyone from the desert prison. She was on her own again.

  Hours after she began her wandering, Lyda came upon two girls, both of them younger than herself. One of them had tear streaks on her dirty face; the other was bleeding from her scalp. She started to pass, then their haunted faces stopped her.

  “What happened to you?” Lyda asked.

  “They ... there's some men back there who said we had to go with them. We didn't want to be with men like we were at the last place. A woman helped us run away. Do you know where there's something to eat?"

  “No, but come with me. We'll try to find something.” Responsibility already, she thought. Is this the same pattern as in the desert, where kids are left to fend for themselves and be abused and most adults don't seem to care? The girls had apparently gone through some unsettling experiences, making them leery here. She hoped this place wasn't going to be a repeat of the last one. In fact, it didn't seem possible. The world couldn't have functioned with that high a proportion of amoral adults. She must have landed in a camp where the people rounded up and dumped there had a lot of miscreants among their number. San Francisco? A prison? That might account for some of the men Big Bill had sold the boys to. And she had been told by several people that Big Bill, Little Charlene and Rockner had all been former convicts. Chance, or purpose? No way to find out, she thought. The girls will tell me more once they know they can trust me. And I have to hope this place has better people. If not ... she patted the comforting bulk of the pocket where her gun resided and the other where she carried the little hand ax Jacob had made for her. Then she remembered that all through the difficulties of her ascension to a leadership role and beyond, she had never once drawn the pistol. The only time she had used it at all was to execute Bill and Charlene. It was startling in a way to remember all she had accomplished and never once used a weapon, nor even issued a threat with one. She at least wanted that pattern to repeat.