Coyote Horizon

by Allen Steele

  The river horses that attacked the LeMare probably mistook us for a catwhale. Or perhaps they knew exactly what we were and just didn’t care; they’d seen our lights, and decided that we were easy prey. Whatever the reason, it mattered little what had drawn them to us; I barely had time to prepare myself before the first one threw itself at the ship.

  Within the pale glow of my scope, I saw a giant, serpentine head, vaguely resembling that of a sea horse back on Earth except many times larger, breach the surface just a dozen yards off the port bow. Like something from a nightmare, the river horse rose before me, its narrow eyes glistening within a bony skull. For a second, it seemed to hesitate, as if surprised that the LeMare wasn’t quite what it expected to find. Then its jaws opened, exposing a row of jagged teeth…

  That was enough for me. I opened fire, keeping my forefinger locked down against the trigger. A loud braaap! as the rifle jolted against my shoulder and spent shells cascaded upon the deck next to my feet, but I wasn’t paying attention to anything except the river horse. I wanted that monster dead.

  My first few bullets missed, then dark blood spurted from just above its chest. The river horse recoiled, and from its mouth came a sound like a lizard being strangled. Then its head went down again, disappearing beneath the surface so close to the LeMare that a spray of water hit me in the face.

  Salt stung my eyes, blinding me for a moment. Wiping my hand across my face, I was about to head for the railing when I heard gunshots from behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Carlos using a rifle to fire upon another river horse that had appeared on the other side of the ship.

  I don’t know which surprised me more—that the second creature was canny enough to attack from a different direction, or that Carlos was armed as well—but his aim was better than mine. A rasping scream, and I caught a brief glimpse of blood and pulpy tissue spewing from the creature’s right eye. Then it reared back, momentarily revealing one of the spadelike flippers of its forequarters, before it toppled sideways into the water.

  From somewhere behind me, people began to cheer, and I glanced to my right. Despite my warnings, the sailors I’d told to go below were standing near the forward companionway…and right behind them, several other crew members. And damn it, one of them was Jorge. The kid had come up from below, and was clinging to a float ring hanging from the bulkhead beneath the wheelhouse windows, watching everything with fascination.

  “Get back!” I yelled. “It’s not over yet!”

  I didn’t wait to see whether they paid attention, but instead vaulted over the windlass to join Carlos at the starboard railing. He was still firing at the river horse he’d just hit, but if it wasn’t already dead, at least it was mortally wounded. Lying on its side, the creature angrily thrashed at the water with its tail as we continued to pump bullets into its chest and stomach…then, just as I thought we’d have the satisfaction of seeing it die, the monster suddenly vanished from sight, as if something below it had reached up to seize its wounded body and drag it beneath the waves.

  “My god.” Carlos whispered. “They eat their own.”

  Better them than us, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. My heart was pounding against my chest, my breath coming in gasps. How many shots had I fired in those last few seconds? I didn’t know until I raised my rifle again and, aiming it toward the last place we’d seen the second horse, experimentally squeezed the trigger. One shot, then a hollow click. I’d run through an entire magazine in less than a minute…Then I knew that, if Carlos hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have had a chance to reload.

  So I said the only thing I could: “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He let out his breath, then gave me a wry grin. “Nice shooting there. Remind me to thank Morgan for hiring you.”

  I nodded. I got a closer look at the weapon in his hands: an old Union Guard carbine, its stock pitted and well-worn. “Picked this up during the Revolution,” Carlos murmured, holding it up for me to see. “Thought I’d bring it along just in case.”

  I wondered if Susan knew about it, but decided not to ask. “Glad you did,” I said as I studied the river again. Both river horses had disappeared, the live one dragging away its dead companion. The crew who’d witnessed the battle were starting to come over to us, but I wasn’t quite ready to believe that the danger had passed. “Hold on, folks,” I said, raising a hand to stop them. “Let’s make sure they’re gone.”

  Carlos nodded, then turned toward the wheelhouse. “Jon?” he called out. “Anything on the scope?”

  Through the windows, I saw both Jon and Barry bend over the radar and sonar screens. A moment passed, then Jon looked back at us. “All clear!” he shouted back. “They’re gone!”

  I sagged against the rail, both exhausted and relieved, as the crewmen let out another cheer. Carlos clapped me on the back, then Jon turned on the floodlights again and everyone came over to congratulate us. I have to admit, I took some small pleasure at being the hero of the hour, but what I really wanted was a drink.

  “I’ve got some bearshine down in my cabin,” I told Carlos, whispering in his ear. “Care to join me for a nightcap?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “I’m going to stay up for a while longer,” he said quietly, “but I could use a drink, yeah. Meet me on the bridge?”

  “Sure thing.” Tucking my rifle beneath my arm, I made my way through the crowd. Just before I reached the forward companionway, though, I found Jorge waiting for me, Susan right behind him. The boy’s eyes were round with awe, and I realized just then that, so far as he was concerned, I was ten feet tall and fought monsters with my bare hands.

  “Can I…?” He stared at the rifle beneath my arm. “Can I see that?”

  For a moment, I was tempted to let him hold my weapon. With the chamber empty and its magazine spent, it was harmless. But one look at his mother’s face told me this might not be a good idea. Regardless of what her father and I had just done, she clearly didn’t approve of her son being exposed to firearms.

  “Maybe another time,” I said. Jorge was disappointed, but gave me a sheepish grin as I ruffled his hair. Then I eased past the two of them and went belowdecks.

  Once I was alone, I put the rifle back in my locker, then removed the spare magazines from my pocket and returned them to their hiding place beneath the mattress. Then I grabbed my flask and went topside again. Now that the excitement was over, everyone was going back to bed; I passed Jorge on the companionway and gave him a playful swat on the arm as I went by. Susan was behind him, and I figured that she’d tuck him in bed. The kid would probably be asleep by the time I returned to our cabin.

  Carlos was waiting for me on the bridge, and Jon and Barry were ready for a drink, too. My flask was nearly empty, but I figured that it was as good a time as any to kill the rest of my bearshine, so I poured a shot into everyone’s coffee mug. The night was calm again, yet when I happened to glance at the chronometer, I was surprised to see that no more than fifteen minutes had gone by since the radar had alerted us of the river horses. As always, it was astonishing how slowly time passes when you’re in danger.

  We’d just toasted each other’s good health, and Carlos was saying something about how shocked he’d been to see a river horse willing to cannibalize its wounded companion, when there was a muffled bang from somewhere belowdecks. My first thought was that someone had dropped a heavy object down in the crew quarters…but then Susan screamed, and I suddenly realized what had just happened.

  I wasn’t the only one who did. Jon, Carlos, and I stared at each other for a moment…and then we were out of the wheelhouse, practically falling over ourselves as we scrambled down the ladder. By the time we reached the crew quarters, we found the passageway crowded with people emerging from their cabins to see what was going on. Jon impatiently shoved them aside as Carlos and I followed him, and I felt a cold chill run down my back when my worst suspicions were confirmed. The noise had come from my cabin.

  We found Susan c
rouched on the floor, holding Jorge in her arms. For an instant, I thought the boy had been harmed, but then I saw that he was unhurt. He was clearly terrified by what had happened, though, for his face was buried against his mother’s chest, his small body quaking with fear.

  My rifle lay on the floor, its spare magazine attached, its muzzle still smoking. And within the ceiling was a small, splintered hole, showing the entry point of the bullet Jorge had fired.

  Susan’s arms were still wrapped around her son when she gazed up at us. When she saw me, the look in her eyes was as murderous as that of a river horse.

  No question about it: the accident was all my fault.

  If I hadn’t been so intent on having a drink with Jon and Carlos, I would’ve made sure that the rifle’s safety was on and that the extra magazines were stowed away some place where Jorge couldn’t find them. At the very least, I should have realized that the boy had become curious about my weapon after seeing me use it to fight off the river horses and that he might take advantage of my absence to reload it. He’d later claim that he hadn’t intended to fire it, that his finger had slipped when he’d inserted it within the trigger guard, but that didn’t make things any better. Indeed, the fact that he hadn’t actually been aiming at the ceiling only made matters worse; the faint powder burns on his cheeks were proof that the barrel had been less than a foot away from his face when the gun had gone off.

  The only thing that stopped Susan from tearing me limb from limb was Carlos. Stepping between his daughter and me, he finally managed to calm her down, reminding her that it was an accident and no one had been hurt; at her insistence, he removed the rifle from my quarters, taking it up to his cabin. I didn’t protest. I was all too aware my negligence had almost caused her son to be killed.

  Susan was still angry, though, and I couldn’t blame her. Jorge spent the rest of the night in her cabin, sleeping in his father’s bed while Jon remained on watch. I presume the kid slept well, but I certainly didn’t. It was a long time before I finally dozed off, and when I awoke a few hours later, the first thing I saw was the bullet hole in the ceiling, mute testimony to my negligence.

  Almost everyone was still asleep when I went topside again. The morning was cold and bleak, with low clouds to the west masking Bear as it dipped below the horizon. Cherokee still couldn’t be seen, but I knew that the LeMare was only a few hours away from reaching its northern coast. A couple of sailors were standing watch on the bow; neither of them wanted to talk to me, though, but instead turned their backs when I came up the companionway. Gazing up at the wheelhouse, I spotted Jon through the windows. He caught my eye for a second, then deliberately looked away. He’d already heard my apologies; forgiveness would have to come later, if ever.

  With nothing else to do, I went aft to go belowdecks again to the lounge. The cook was still working on breakfast, but coffee had already been made. A couple of scientists had risen early, but they clearly didn’t want to have anything to do with me either. Whatever status I’d briefly enjoyed last night had already been negated by the near tragedy that had occurred afterward. So I poured myself a mug of coffee and, deciding that I didn’t want harsh eyes staring at my back, took it back upstairs.

  I was leaning against the starboard rail, sipping my coffee and watching sea-swoops catching breakfast from the wake of the ship, when I heard someone come up behind me. Looking around, I saw Lynn. She didn’t say anything for a moment, and I braced myself for another round of recrimination, but after a second or two she came over to slip her hand within the crook of my elbow.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered, giving me a brief hug. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “Thanks for saying so…but you’re wrong. If I hadn’t…”

  “I know, I know. But you’d told Jorge not to touch your gun, and he deliberately disobeyed you. That’s what everyone’s forgetting.” She paused. “They’ve also forgotten that, just a few minutes earlier, you’d used that same gun to save lives. I was there, remember?”

  “Sure, but…” I shook my head. “Look, maybe you’re right about both those things, but it doesn’t matter, does it? I should’ve never left that gun in my cabin. Not after Jorge saw me loading it, and when he could see where I was hiding the ammo. He’s a two-year-old, for God’s sake…”

  “Six in Earth-years. Which makes him old enough to know that when an adult tells him not to do something, he’d better pay attention.” Lynn released my arm to lean against the railing beside me. “Not that Susan is going to recognize that. Every mother believes her child to be the center of the universe and that everyone and everything must revolve around him.”

  I gave her a sidelong glance. “Sounds like you have experience.”

  Her face reddened, and for a second I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. “Not personally, no,” she murmured, “but after watching my sister spoil her own children rotten…” Lynn shook her head. “No. Kids aren’t something I plan to have. At least not anytime soon.”

  Lynn didn’t strike me as being the motherly type, but I let it pass. “Well, anyway…” I shrugged, took a sip of lukewarm coffee. “I imagine there’s going to be some changes. Carlos has my gun now, and unless Susan insists on throwing it overboard, it’ll probably stay in his cabin for the rest of the trip. I guess she’ll make sure Jorge is removed from my cabin, too, which means I’ll soon be getting a new roommate.” I smiled at her. “Interested? I don’t think I have any other friends on board just now.”

  She didn’t return my smile. “I’d like to, but…” She hesitated, then stepped a little closer. “Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I don’t think you’re going to be here very much longer.”

  I stared at her. “What are you saying?”

  “After everyone went back to bed, I stayed awake awhile. Couldn’t sleep after what happened.” She peered at me. “From the circles under your eyes, I don’t think you did either…”

  “Never mind that. What did you mean by…?”

  Hearing footsteps, we looked behind us. The sailors I’d seen earlier walked across the deck, apparently relieved from duty and heading below to get breakfast. She waited until they disappeared down the companionway, then went on, keeping her voice low. “So I went aft to see if I could steal a snack from the galley, and that’s when I heard Susan and Jon in their cabin.” She paused. “She wants you off the ship, Sawyer. I mean, right now…or at least as soon as the gyro arrives to pick up her father.”

  I felt my face grow warm. “Oh, for the love of…She can’t be serious.”

  “’Fraid so, love.” Her expression was grim. “If she had her way, she’d probably just as soon have you marooned on Cherokee. She’s that angry. As luck would have it, we’ve got that gyro coming in, so…” She shrugged. “I think they’re going to be taking on another passenger. And that’s you.”

  I didn’t quite know what to say. What had happened was my fault, no matter how much Lynn might try to mitigate it…but, damn it, it had been an accident. I might have been guilty of carelessness, even stupidity, but certainly not reckless disregard for the safety of everyone aboard. Susan couldn’t honestly believe that I’d allow something like that to happen again; she was ousting me out of spite, plain and simple.

  My coffee had gone cold. I poured the rest of it over the side, resisting the angry temptation to hurl the mug into the river. “Well, hell…and just when things were getting interesting.”

  “Yeah. Sorry you won’t be along for…” Lynn stopped herself, and for a moment it appeared that she was gnawing her lower lip. “All right, I’ll let you in on another little secret. I’m thinking about leaving, too.”

  I gave her a sharp look. “Not because of me, I hope.”

  A wry smile. “Don’t flatter yourself. No, it’s because I think I’m covering the wrong story.” Another glance over her shoulder to make sure that we weren’t being overheard, then she went on. “Look, I managed to catch a bit of what you guys were talking about last night…on the bri
dge, I mean. Carlos didn’t come right out and say it, sure, but there has to be a reason for the government going to the trouble of sending a gyro all the way out here. Something that they need a former president…no, scratch that, this particular former president…to handle.”

  The same thought had occurred to me as well, but I hadn’t had time to ask. Not that Carlos seemed willing to discuss it. “So you want to follow him back, see what’s going on?” She nodded. “Think they’ll let you do it?”

  Lynn shrugged. “How can they stop me? I’m not an expedition member, just a reporter who happened to tag along. Besides”—a confidential wink—“I think these guys would be just as relieved to get rid of me as they are you.”

  I was about to respond when we heard someone else walking around the bulwark railing. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Susan heading for the companionway, leading Jorge by the hand. When the boy saw me, his face became bright red, then his eyes turned shamefully toward his feet. Susan glared at me, and she pulled her son a little closer as they marched downstairs to the lounge.

  “So much for breakfast,” I muttered after they’d disappeared.

  “I’ll bring you a muffin.” Lynn gently patted my wrist as she backed away from the railing. “Try to act surprised when they break the news.”

  As it turned out, none of the expedition leaders said anything to me until the LeMare reached Cherokee. I like to think that they were still mulling it over, weighing the benefits against the costs of losing their wilderness guide, but it’s more likely that no one wanted to tell me that I was being thrown off the ExEx until they were sure the gyro was on the way. Or maybe they were afraid I’d make a public stink if I found out too soon.

  I was angry. No sense in denying it. By the time I returned to my cabin, I’d already decided to insist upon Morgan paying me the balance of my retainer once I was back in New Florida; I’d done my job as best as I could, and I couldn’t be held accountable for the rash decisions of the expedition’s lead scientist. I was also thinking about relocating my business from Leeport to Liberty while starting to offer camera safaris, just to give Susan and Jon the unfriendly competition I’d avoided up until then. Hell, I might even consult a lawyer about taking Susan to court if Goldstein refused to cough up.