Savage Survival

by Darrell Bain

  Lyda led the girls away from where they had been, not going in any particular direction; just going, and keeping the wall in sight. The girls were named Sue and Betty and had met only hours before in the transport. Neither had been at the desert camp, but they had been together elsewhere.

  “We were at a place where there were lots of mountains and rocks and funny little trees. The wind blew all the time and it was cold."

  “How did you keep warm?” Lyda asked, eyeing their clothing. Some of their garments were probably what they had been wearing when captured; the rest were wrappings of the same kind of cloth Lyda had seen in the desert. Still, they didn't look like enough to have kept them warm in that kind of environment.

  “There was a man there that showed people how to build shelters and fires. He was real nice."

  “What happened to him?"

  “Oh, another man got in a fight with him and hurt his head. He went to sleep and never woke up. I'm hungry."

  “Me, too,” her friend Betty echoed. “And thirsty, too."

  Lyda gave them each a drink from one of her spare bottles, and let each have a few bites from a food brick. She had two of the bricks and a partially eaten third in her pack, saved from the days after the fight and killings when she had just about lost her appetite. She had already seen water, flowing away from the base of one of the giant columns along a channel that split into smaller rivulets which, in turn, fed the trays clustered around it. People were already congregating around the columns, she knew. When it came time for company, that's where she would go. And they were easy to find, appearing in numbers she was unable to easily count.

  As for food, that proved surprisingly easy to come by once she discovered the trick. The columns were all huge but they varied in diameter. When they stopped by one of the smaller ones to rest, Lyda noticed a fragrance in the air. It smelled wonderful, making her mouth water. She followed her nose to its source. Right before her eyes, the greenery that covered the column began growing bulges which quickly rounded into bulbous appendages dangling from short vines like ripe fruit. The smell was so inviting, it made Lyda cautious. She made the girls wait while she sampled several of them, taking very small bites. They all tasted alike, sweet and with a meaty texture like very tender chicken or pork. When nothing happened to her, she allowed her charges to eat.

  Waste disposal proved to be equally simple. As she walked, Lyda had discovered the floor was often altered by shallow depressions shaped like bathtubs, only not as deep. The bottom sloped toward one end. Since they provided a modicum of privacy, she suggested that Betty use one of them when she asked where to go. Her waste disappeared at the deep end as if being dissolved by magic. Lyda gave her some of the tendrils she had been carrying to clean with and noted with satisfaction that they hadn't dried out like earthly vegetation would have. They were still soft and supple. The boxy little extrusions from the floor remained an enigma. She examined one or two but could find no break in the surface, no way of telling what they were designed for, if anything. She thought they must have some function, though. She didn't think the aliens were stupid; there must be a purpose to their actions, if only she could figure it out.

  By the second day, Lyda began to think they had been transferred to some kind of Lotus Land, where food and drink came so easily and was so plentiful, there was no need to struggle for the very necessities of life. That night after the two little girls had gone to sleep, cuddled together like Siamese twins attached at the chest, she turned her findings over in her mind again and again. She thought briefly that this habitat might have been given as a sort of reward for the hard struggle back on earth. When she could find no logical reason why that should be, she discarded the notion. She did have to admit that living would probably be much easier here. Perhaps too easy. What would people do once they ate and drank to repletion?

  There was always romance, she thought. People spend lots of time on it, even young girls and boys. And adults had sex. She had been set straight on that point by Gary back at the office once when she had unintentionally interrupted some couples while they were engaged. After that, she had followed his suggestion and reserved a spot off from the others for couples. Some of the teenagers had taken advantage of it as well, but that was one aspect of her time in charge that she hadn't delved into very deeply. She wasn't interested in sex yet, especially after her experience with Big Bill. Okay, romance, sex, food, drink. How else could people keep themselves busy? No movies. No internet. No music. No books. They would need something to occupy their time. All she had to do now was figure out the what, where and how. She smiled to herself.

  It made a nice puzzle to put herself to sleep, even though she didn't know exactly why it was going to be necessary. Leisure from work is an adult concept and learning to live with nothing to do might sound like paradise, but Lyda knew it wasn't that simple. Doing nothing would bore her silly, and she was almost certain it would most other people, too. The reasoning, which came from that same inner sense of vitality and satisfaction within herself that had developed in the desert told her that much. It was still there. She knew she wasn't Supergirl, but she also knew she wasn't an innocent little girl on the verge of adolescence anymore, either. A long while later, she thought she might have a handle on what should be done, if she could talk some adults into it. After that, she slept without a problem.

  * * * *

  The next day, Lyda took her charges and deliberately sought out company, after first finding an unoccupied column and cleaning herself up as best she could. She made the girls wash, too, and shake out their clothes. She did the same herself, thankful her first period was over now. So she would know when the next one was due, she decided to use notches cut into a little piece of vine the food fruits grew on to try to keep track of when the next one was due. After they had all spruced up as much as possible, she told Betty and Sue they were going to find some other people to talk to.

  “Will they be nice people?” Sue asked her apprehensively.

  “If they aren't, we'll leave,” Lyda assured her.

  “Maybe they won't let us leave,” Betty said, hanging back.

  Lyda faced them both. “Listen, if we want to go anywhere, we can. I'll make sure of that, okay?"

  “How can you make big men leave us alone?” Betty asked. She wasn't taking anything for granted.

  Lyda smiled at her. “I was the big boss back in the desert. Everybody did what I said."

  “Will they do it here?"

  Good question! There certainly weren't any flies on this girl. “I don't know, but I can keep anyone from doing anything bad to us, so don't worry about that part."

  Sue appeared happy with her assurances. Betty was still dubious, but came with her. Lyda headed toward the central environs. Betty's questions made her wary and she decided to seek out a group made up of at least half women with children, thinking that sort of grouping would probably contain the kind of people she was looking for.

  During an hour of walking, they passed several groups congregated around columns, just as they had the day before, but she didn't stop nor speak, except in passing. One of them had too high a proportion of men; another had far too many women and children and too few men for safety. She couldn't help but think that group would run into difficulties soon. Finally, she called a halt near another gaggle that looked promising. There weren't as many of them as there had been at many of the places she had seen, and the mix of sexes and ages appeared to be close to what she was seeking.

  While she was examining them from a distance with the girls standing behind her, a middle-aged woman detached herself from the throng and walked toward them. When she got closer, Lyda noticed she was tall, with an interesting, matronly looking face like her grandmother had. She had even let her graying hair show like Grandma did. No vanity here, Lyda thought. A nice looking woman. I hope she acts like she looks.

  “Hello, girls,” the woman said as she came up to them. “Are you looking for a place to stop?"

&nb
sp; “Maybe,” Lyda answered. “My name is Lyda Brightner. This is Sue and this is Betty. I found them by themselves and brought them along with me."

  “Well, you'll be welcome here if you want to stay for a while."

  “Are you in charge?” Lyda asked, shifting her feet. They were getting sore from all the walking.

  “Well, no one is actually in charge. We've just been sort of getting acquainted so far. My name is Rayne Austin, by the way. I have a granddaughter about your age somewhere. I was babysitting when the aliens came. We got separated and I don't know where she is now."

  She's talking too much, Lyda thought. It was the same nervous mannerism she had noted in some of her Team when they were trying to impress her. But this woman had no reason to be nervous around her, or to impress her either. Why all the talk, revealing things right off the bat she should have kept to herself for a time?

  “Were you in a desert before?"

  Rayne frowned, her face no longer looking quite so grandmotherly. “No, I was at a place with lots of tough grass and not many trees. Some people I was with said it might not even be in America, but no one knew for sure. Why do you ask?"

  “I was wondering if you had any trouble before."

  “Well ... there was, but that's over with now. This place has lots of food and water. No one has to fight over it. You can relax here."

  “We can't ever relax as long as the aliens have us,” Lyda responded.

  Rayne sighed, like someone after a hard day's shopping who gets home and finds the house still a mess. “We can't do anything about them. We just have to accept our situation and make the best of it. God will take care of us if we keep our faith in Him."

  Lyda thought it was better to rely on their own abilities. There certainly hadn't been a lack of praying at her own desert camp, but there also hadn't been much indication that God was taking care of them, or if He was, He hadn't done much to help anyone. She didn't contradict Rayne, though. If her faith helped her survive, more power to her—up to a point.

  “Well, I want to find out what the aliens intend to do with us. Right now, though, Betty and Sue need to rest and eat. They're tired."

  “You look tired yourself. Come on and meet the rest of us."

  Lyda decided to follow her and keep her guard up. After getting the girls settled down, she allowed Rayne to take her around and introduce her. Whether or not anyone was in charge, she apparently knew the names of every person in the group already. Lyda answered questions politely without giving much away and shook a lot of hands. There wasn't any single person there who really impressed her, but on the other hand, she could find nothing wrong with them, either. They reminded her of the times Mom had taken her to church and she had seen the gathering of disorganized acquaintances milling around after an uninspired sermon, some friendly, some just waiting on spouses or children so they could go home. If she stayed with them, she intended to see if she could make some changes if the situation didn't improve. If not, I can always move on, she thought, but she also wondered if she was the only person in the world, or wherever, who was inspired to try and improve her lot, as well as those around her. She had passed groups today that appeared to be organized, after a fashion, but none which seemed interested in the welfare of three young girls.

  * * *

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lyda spent the rest of the first day and all of the second simply wandering around and talking to the people Rayne had introduced her to. Eventually, Betty and Sue became brave enough to go off among the younger kids after Lyda told them where she intended to sleep, near one of the boxes somewhat removed from the column. She noticed some of the adults were making attempts to care for the children, especially the younger ones, at least to the extent of showing them how to get food and water and where to go to use the “bathroom". She also noticed the kids were much less rambunctious than a similar group would have been back on earth.

  “I don't know what to do with them,” a bewildered woman said. She was clad in jeans and a tee shirt, with a wrap of alien cloth draped around her shoulders.

  “What's wrong?” Lyda asked. None of the children near them appeared to be in any difficulty, though the two year old the woman was holding was whimpering.

  “They don't know what to do with themselves and I don't either. There's no television to occupy them, no movies or games and not even school."

  “Why can't we start a school?” Lyda questioned, glad the woman had led into the very subject she was interested in.

  “What's your name? Lyda, isn't it?"

  “Lyda Brightner."

  “Well, Miss Brightner, do you see anything around here to teach with? A schoolhouse, perhaps, or some books and computers?” Her tone, especially the ‘Miss Brightner', was very sarcastic.

  Lyda tried to ignore it. “I see a lot of things to teach with. They're just not being used."

  “Oh? Do you mind sharing? Where are they?” Still sarcastic. She looked out over their habitat, mocking a search for the invisible teaching materials.

  “They're sitting on the shoulders of all the adults and probably, most of the kids."

  “What?"

  “The teaching material is in our heads. Everyone must know something they can teach to the rest of us. Don't you?” Lyda deliberately challenged the woman, hoping it would impel her to think.

  “How? We don't even have anything to write with!"

  “Don't be a defeatist, Mrs. Martin. At first, we shouldn't need anything. And when we do, we can think of a way."

  “Huh! Maybe you're smarter than I am, or maybe you've seen something here I haven't. I sure don't know how."

  “Well, would you be willing to start anyway?” Lyda was exasperated but didn't let it show. She had already thought of two ways to write, in just that moment. Not good ones, but workable. She was rapidly finding out that just because adults might have grown in body, didn't necessarily mean they had in mind. “It would give the kids something to do besides fuss and eat and sleep."

  “Oh, I don't know. I guess.” She rocked the child in her arms, trying to quiet it.

  “Okay, I'll talk to you later. Think about what you'd like to teach. And not just to kids, either. I bet you know stuff other adults would be interested in.” Lyda smiled as brightly as she could and moved on.

  Behind her, Mrs. Martin followed her with her eyes. “What a strange girl,” she murmured to the child in her arms. “She acts almost like an adult and she can't be more than thirteen, fourteen at the most.” She would have been very surprised to learn that Lyda was only a few days past her twelfth birthday.

  None of the watches were working. They had all stopped on the transport. And no night and day, either, Lyda thought. That's going to make it harder to have classes if no one knows what time it is. She went on, from person to person, talking to anyone who showed interest.

  “What kind of work did you do?” Lyda asked Horace Cherbub when he said he knew nothing anyone else would want to learn.

  He only shrugged, but Lyda was persistent. “What did you do before the aliens came?"

  “I was a fireman. Not much need for firemen here! Nothing to burn, and nothing to make a fire with anyway."

  “What else? You weren't a fireman twenty-four hours a day, were you?"

  “I just watched television."

  “What did you watch?"

  “Oh, all kinds of stuff. Movies, news, sports, the History Channel, Animal Planet, oh gosh, others I don't remember right off-hand."

  “The History Channel? I bet you remember a lot from it, don't you? I do. It was pretty interesting, and Dad said they tried to be accurate."

  Horace shrugged again. “What difference does it make now? We're probably not even on earth. God knows if we'll ever get back, either."

  “What parts did you like best?"

  “On the History Channel? The military, I guess. Fat lot of good our military did us!"

  “Were you ever in the army?"

  “You're a barrel of que
stions!” But he laughed. “No, I was in the navy. Served twenty years, too. I was a signalman."

  “I'd like to learn more about military life and what it was like,” Lyda said.

  “Really? What for, kid? That's all in the past."

  “My name is Lyda Brightner, not kid. And maybe it isn't all in the past. At the last place I was at, I had a man on my council who had been in the army. He helped me train our group so when we were attacked, we beat them."

  “He helped you?"

  “Yes. I was in charge, but he knew lots more than me about fighting, so I got him to organize us. He did real well."

  “You were in charge?” Horace laughed, then realized that she was quite serious. “Really?"

  “Yes. There were lots of bad people in the desert. Someone had to do something."

  “Hmm,” he muttered, still looking dubious, but no longer laughing.

  “Will you help? Teach, I mean?"

  “I don't know..."

  “What else are you going to do?"