Year’s Best SF 16

by Hartwell, David G. ; Cramer, Kathryn

  Michael tried to figure out the two of them. Samsa was an older man. What little hair he had left was streaked with gray and matched his beard. He was tall and thin as if strung together with wires. Pinto wasn’t much more than Michael’s own age. Through her loose shirt Michael could see a suggestion of young breasts, but her legs and arms still looked childish. Michael wondered if Pinto had bartered protection the same way he had with Uncle Ned. They didn’t look related.

  Samsa pulled out two glass ampoules, one with a powder and the other a liquid, a syringe and a wicked needle. He filled the syringe with the liquid and injected it into the ampoule with the powder and swirled it around to mix it. He caught Michael watching him.

  “We don’t have much call to use this so it’s still in the original packaging.” Samsa grinned at him. “We brew the poison ourselves.”

  “From what?”

  “Poison arrow frogs down in the bayou. We go down there once or twice a year to catch what we need.”

  “I didn’t know there were such animals.”

  “Pretty little things. Red. Blue. All sorts of colors. Skin carries a poison that will lay you out to dry if you mess with them. They didn’t use to live down there but somebody’s menagerie broke open—or was deliberately released—and some small group managed to survive the cooler winters. It’s a nice weapon against humans—quiet. Quick. If you keep your wits about you, you can take down half a dozen people before they realize what’s happening.”

  He finished shaking the ampoule and filled the syringe with the resulting mixture.

  “Out of the way, Pinto,” Samsa said. He swabbed a section of Jackie’s hide and slipped the needle in. Then he withdrew the needle, broke it, and put the syringe and broken needle in a jar from the bag.

  “She’s still not going to be moving for a couple of hours but now her breathing won’t be affected.” He looked up at the hot sun. “We’ll have to keep her cool.” He looked at Michael. “Take your shirt off and wet it in the river. Keep it wet and on the elephant’s head.”

  “Her name is Jackie.”

  “Jackie, then.”

  “Better untie me.”

  “You’ll do fine with your hands tied together. Hop to it. Pinto? Help him but keep out of reach. Use your own shirt, too. I’ll go get a couple of buckets.”

  Pinto kept a wary eye on Michael but he ignored her. The sun was hot even on his sweating body. He didn’t want to imagine what Jackie felt like.

  “Keep her ears wet, too,” Pinto told him. “Elephants keep cool through their ears.”

  Michael grunted and bathed Jackie’s ears.

  “Did she knock you down?” Pinto asked as they passed one another on the way to the river.

  “She saved my life,” Michael said simply.

  “Right.”

  Michael shrugged.

  Samsa returned with two buckets and a rifle.

  “I thought you liked poison,” Michael said.

  “I do. But it’s hard to penetrate the hide of a crocodile with a dart.”

  “There are crocodiles in this river?”

  “Not usually this far north but sometimes. The Komodos usually stay away, too. But not always. I’ll keep watch, just in case.”

  Michael stopped and looked at Samsa. “You were a Keeper at Hohenwald.”

  “Director,” Samsa corrected.

  “So you let the elephants go when everybody died?”

  Samsa cocked his head. “Eleven years ago.”

  “All the other elephants in Saint Louis died. Jackie and the Keeper decided she should look for the elephants down here.”

  “Did they, now?”

  “Jackie’s going to have a baby. Is the poison going to hurt it?”

  Samsa sighed and looked over to her still form. “I should have picked that up right away.” He turned back to Michael. “I hope not but there’s no way to know. If she doesn’t miscarry, it’s a fair bet the baby will be all right.” Samsa gestured to Michael. When Michael came close enough, Samsa untied his hands.

  “I’m starting to believe you’re not a poacher.” He held up the gun. “But I still have the rifle.”

  Michael nodded and went back to filling buckets.

  In the early afternoon, Jackie started twitching. An hour later, she was trying to get up. Samsa stood next to her, speaking soothingly. “Don’t get up yet, girl.” He gestured Michael and Pinto off the sand bank.

  Jackie seemed to calm down and remained still. But it wasn’t long until she heaved herself up, swaying and looking confused.

  “It’s okay, girl,” Samsa said soothingly.

  Jackie swung her trunk and knocked the rifle to the ground, then swung back, caught Samsa’s leg and turned him over on his back. In a moment, she had a foot on his chest.

  “You tried to kill my boy,” she hissed.

  Samsa tried to speak but couldn’t.

  Pinto ran to Jackie and tried to pull up her foot. Jackie ignored her.

  “Are you all right, Michael?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you want me to do with him?”

  “Let him go,” Michael said. “He’s the director at Hohenwald.”

  Jackie slowly raised her foot. She carefully walked down the sandbar into the water and eased into it.

  Pinto held Samsa’s hand. She was crying. Michael squatted down next to him.

  “She can talk,” Samsa coughed out.

  “I know,” Michael said.

  Dear Mom,

  We found the other elephants. But the people that own them found us. Almost killed us, too. Me, anyway.

  Samsa and Pinto were out tracking the herd. There is one big herd of six adult females and no calves. There are two other groups. One has three females and one calf. The other has four females and two calves.

  Male elephants don’t hang around except when they’re in muss. Or muth. Or something. There are four males in the area.

  All of them are Indian elephants except one: Tika. Tika is an african elephant. She’s huge. She was the big elephant we saw at the stream. Samsa says it’s possible for african and indian elephants to mate but she won’t have any of the males. She’s real strickt with her group. Maybe that’s why they don’t have calves.

  Samsa let the elephants free when it looked like everybody was going to die, him included. But he didn’t. Now there are fifteen people who help Samsa watch the elephants. They don’t eat meat. They protect the elephants from people. Maybe they want to be elephants themselves.

  They have their own little village near here. Samsa seems to run things from what I’ve seen. They want Jackie to come to the village. Jackie’s not interedsted. She wants to join the herd. I think she’s suspicious of them. They won’t let me stay in the village. Maybe they still think I’m a poacher.

  Love, Michael

  “You need both legs to follow the elephants,” said Samsa reasonably.

  “I can get around pretty good with my crutch. Let me do something.”

  “You can’t run. Sometimes the elephants charge and if you can’t get up a tree quick enough, there won’t be quite enough of you left to bury. We’ve lost people that way.” Samsa and Pinto left before Michael could protest further.

  Jackie was resting near the camp. She watched them from a distance. Michael had no doubt she could hear every word.

  Michael hobbled over to her. He sat down next to her. She reached up and pulled down the branch of a birch tree and began methodically pulling the leaves off and eating them.

  “They won’t let me come with them,” Michael said.

  “So I heard.”

  The fog had come up the trail from the river and everything was swathed in mist. Michael felt cold and half blind. “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired. Laying in the sun for half a day takes a lot out of you.”

  “Do you think there really are crocodiles in the river?”

  “Do you think they’re lying?”

  Michael looked back to the fog. “I
guess not. Do you know which band you’re going after?”

  Jackie didn’t answer for a moment. “Tika’s band, I think.”

  “Won’t she be the hardest?”

  “Probably.”

  “Then why her?”

  Jackie was quiet a moment. “Silly reasons. It’s surprising she even has a band with Indians in it. When you’re desperate for company you’ll take anything I suppose.”

  Michael didn’t speak immediately. His chest hurt and his throat felt thick. He stared up the trail where Samsa and Pinto had gone. Was that how he felt about them? Desperate? Was that how Jackie felt about him?

  He went to their gear and opened up the hidden flap. He put together the rifle and took the exploding shells.

  “What are you going to do?” Jackie stared at him.

  “Follow them.”

  It was awkward to carry the rifle while he was still forced to use the crutch. He thought maybe he’d try to get down to one of the old cities and look for a leg. Or build one. He had a vague memory of a story about someone with a peg leg. That would be enough for him.

  The trail was clear and Samsa and Pinto had left footprints so they weren’t hard to follow. He’d catch up to them or he wouldn’t. Either way he was doing something.

  He could tell the trail was coming close to the river by the way the trees began to thin. Michael listened and he could hear splashing—probably the elephants. He found a tall tree, leaned the crutch against the trunk and slung the rifle over his back and started to climb.

  From near the top, he had a commanding view of the river, the elephants, and Samsa and Pinto watching the elephants. He could also see the sunken logs slowly drifting toward the splashing of the elephants. He unslung the rifle and aimed it at one of the logs. The telescopic sight showed the crocodile clearly. He turned on the laser and saw the bright red spot appear on the animal’s back. Then he watched.

  Samsa and Pinto were watching the elephants. Samsa had a rifle but it was slung. He was talking, or maybe arguing, with Pinto. One of the crocodiles stopped, watching the bank. Then, it submerged.

  Let’s see, thought Michael. Think like a croc—or a dragon. Go for the little target, not the big one. Where would I attack from if I were a crocodile?

  The water erupted near Pinto.

  Right there. For a moment, the crocodile was frozen in midleap, the red spot clearly showing on his neck. Michael squeezed off three shots. He saw the water and blood spurt where they hit.

  Then time caught and the crocodile started to close his jaws on Pinto when the explosive rounds triggered.

  There was no flash or sound but the crocodile fell to the ground, dragging Pinto down with him. Samsa pulled Pinto out of the animal’s limp mouth. They scrambled back up the bank, blood showing on Pinto’s legs. But the croc was unmoving.

  The elephants roared out of the water and ran into the forest. Michael stayed there for some time but the river was empty save for the remaining crocs staying safely off shore.

  He climbed down and made his way back to camp. Samsa was treating Pinto’s wounds.

  Michael put the rifle down and sat next to it.

  “I have some use,” he said.

  Samsa was sitting across from him when Michael awoke.

  “I want the rifle.”

  Michael sat up. “I’d like to live in the village and use it to help you. But what I’d really like is to have my leg back. But that’s the way it is.”

  Samsa shook his head. “We don’t know you. I can’t have any weapon around that can kill an elephant in the hands of someone I don’t know.”

  “You mean like the darts?”

  “That’s different.” Samsa watched him a moment. “We could dart you and take it.”

  Michael pulled out the pistol and held it loosely. He didn’t point it at Samsa but he didn’t deliberately point it away. “You could pry it from my cold dead hands, I suppose.”

  “I know where that expression comes from. Do you?”

  “Does it matter?” Michael was quiet for a moment. “I think it should be enough that Jackie trusts me.”

  “I don’t think so. Jackie hasn’t seen enough humans to know who to trust.”

  “Do tell,” said Jackie from behind Samsa.

  Michael looked up at Jackie. “You tell me what you want done with the rifle.”

  “Keep it,” said Jackie shortly. “Likely you’re a better shot with it than he is. Certainly, you’re more trustworthy.”

  “I am the caretaker of the elephants,” Samsa said in a controlled voice.

  “That’s not your job,” said Jackie. “It’s mine.”

  They didn’t tell Samsa or Pinto or anyone else they were leaving. The village was up the hill and out of sight behind a bend in the trail. Michael certainly wasn’t going out of his way to say goodbye. Even so, Michael could feel watchful eyes on him as they turned from the trail that led up the hill to the elephant scat covered trail that followed the bottomland.

  “Tell me,” Jackie said conversationally that afternoon. “Do you think Samsaville is on the map?”

  Michael laughed for a long time.

  The quality of their travel changed. Before, Michael had felt essentially alone in the forest. Other elephants were an abstraction. Other humans were absent. The very idea of a village was absurd.

  But now Samsaville—the name stuck—loomed in his mind. He thought Jackie might think similarly about the elephants.

  Dear Mom,

  Jackie and I have left the other people and went to look for the elephants on our own. I’m not sure what’s going to happen now. Maybe Jackie would be better without a one legged crippled kid.

  I miss you and Dad. I miss Gerry. I even miss Uncle Ned. I miss my leg. It hurts at night.

  Jackie’s worried about joining the elephants. She doesn’t say so but I can tell. Maybe Samsa will follow us. Maybe he’ll dart me or worse. Maybe Tika won’t let us join. Maybe something bad will happen.

  Whatever happens, I love you.

  Michael

  They found Tika two days later. It was mid-morning. The herd was grazing on the edge of a clearing. Worn buildings marked the clearing as having once been a farm. Michael looked at the ancient stubble of corn shocks and rusting machinery. This farm had never seen a robot. It had been abandoned long ago.

  Tika had already turned to face them before Jackie and Michael left the forest. She must have heard them coming, thought Michael. Or smelled them.

  Jackie stopped well short of them and started grazing on the opposite side of the clearing. After an hour or so, Tika returned to grazing with the other females. But her attention never wavered from Jackie.

  Afternoon came and the herd disappeared into the forest. Michael slid down to the ground and made himself a lunch out of dried fruit and crocodile jerky.

  “Samsa is watching us,” Jackie muttered and she stood near Michael. “Up on the ridge. I can smell him.”

  Michael nodded. “Is he going to shoot me?”

  “I can’t smell a gun but that doesn’t mean much.”

  “Anybody else?”

  Jackie shook her head. “Not as far as I can tell.”

  “Nothing to be done, then.”

  Michael chewed the crocodile jerky. Not bad. Sort of like chicken. “I wonder why the dragons don’t come across the bridges. Do you think there’s something here they don’t like?”

  “Maybe the elephants kill them. I know I would.”

  “You did.”

  “True.” Jackie thought for a moment. “It’s a mistake to think this ecology here is complete. Humans left it very recently. It could be the Komodos just haven’t reached this far yet. The Komodos have to migrate north from the coast every spring and return every fall. It’s going to take time for them to penetrate new areas. Any place they go can only be as far as they can return to in time to avoid the winter.”

  “They could learn to winter up here.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “They�
��re unlikely, right? Who knows what they can do?”

  Jackie was silent for a moment. “That’s not something I want to think about.”

  Michael shivered. “Me, neither.”

  The next week followed the same ritual. The elephants came to the abandoned farm and grazed, moving over to new areas as they stripped the old of leaves. By the week’s end, Jackie and Tika had circled the entire clearing. Still standing opposite one another, Jackie was now where they had first sighted Tika and Tika was grazing where Jackie had first entered the clearing.

  “Today we have to follow them,” said Michael. He spit out the last of the meat. He was tired of crocodile jerky.

  “It’s too soon.”

  “Look around you.” Michael pointed at the trees. “There’s nothing left. They’re not going to come back here just to say hello.”

  Tika chivvied her herd back to the clearing’s entrance. Jackie followed at a respectful distance. Tika kept turning to check on them.

  “This might work out,” Jackie whispered.

  They followed the band for hours. The smell of Samsa and the other humans faded. The trail became wilder and more curved until they couldn’t see the band for minutes at a time. Then they turned a corner in the trail and Tika was facing them.

  Jackie stopped dead still. Michael had been leaning forward, resting his head on Jackie’s head and watching. He froze, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

  Tika approached cautiously, trunk half raised and sniffing the air. Jackie raised her trunk slightly. When the two of them were close enough, they sniffed each other with their trunks. Tika seemed to relax.

  Michael watched. It came to him that Tika wanted Jackie in her band—maybe because she was pregnant. Maybe because there were dangers enough out here for everybody to share.