He knew he should not, but the desire to reach her with truth, to have her acceptance as he was, became stronger in him. And so he took the lenses from his eyes and looked back at her, for the first time able to see her without the limits of those tiny holes. She was magnificent in full range. He had not risked looking at her before with his full sight. Now he was overwhelmed with desire. Her strength, the set of her jaw, her sharply contoured neck and shoulders, all looked less alien. Except for the surface, she could have been from his home. Now, seeing her in full familiarity, he could not stay away, he knew he must go back and try to make peace with the differences that disturbed her so.
And then he looked at her eyes. She was watching him, trying in the fading light to see his eyes, to see into his eyes. But she could not. The differences disturbed her and her face contorted with repugnance and she tried again to hold back tears.
He wanted to comfort her. Perhaps his voice would be enough of the familiar to soften the intensity she was experiencing. He tried to speak. But as he opened his mouth, he became suddenly aware of the mistake he had made earlier. He had eaten the grasses and seeds. And now they had their natural effect upon his body.
He had only just returned from his evening feeding, not yet digested fully the fur from the rodents, the carapaces from the insects, the feathers from the robin. And the grasses had stopped the digestion and clenched the muscles of his torso in automatic contractions designed to remove the undigested food as rapidly as possible. He had not time to move away into the forest. Immediately he regurgitated the mice, the crickets, the bird, the swift. His eyes closed automatically as the muscles continued their rhythmic surging.
From beside him he heard the choked screams. They were bleats, deep and grating. And then came the acrid smell and the coughs and then tears, and then sobs, and then small shrieks, and then the crackle of leaves and branches as the cries moved farther and farther away down the mountain.
Chapter 8
“Who ordered reconnaissance ships into the mountains?” Paul barked at Eleanor as he entered her quarters.
“You know I did,” she answered with the smug assurance that was more familiar in Diana than in the pliant science officer.
“1 can’t see how that serves your scientific venture, Eleanor. And so I am led to believe it was not your idea, but Jeffrey’s. And Jeffrey is not running the military maneuvers of this ship, is that clear?” “Actually what is not clear is whether or not you are running the military maneuvers of this ship, Paul. We have established a clear base in Prineville. Even the resistance there has been almost eliminated. We have accomplished our first objective. Either we extend our operations from here, or we appear exceedingly complacent, my dear.”
“The operations in Bend, Redmond, and Madras need personnel. Since we are all limited to three hours on the surface, and then must wait the interminable seventy-two hours before returning, we lack mobility, Eleanor. And until you perfect that antitoxin, we can’t afford the privilege of personal endeavor. There is no advantage in moving up into the mountain gorge.” “No advantage to you, perhaps. But there are other purposes to be served.”
“Not scientific ones.”
She paused, raised an eyebrow, and took a more subtle tone of voice. “No, not scientific ones. I’d even go so far as to say military ones, if that weren’t risking
insulting your perspicacity.”
“Whose military purposes?”
“There is a potential saboteur out there, Paul. Jeffrey has found out where he is. He is going to find him and carry out Diana’s orders. That hardly seems inappropriate. What seems suspect is why you did not order the mission yourself when Jeffrey told you where Hadad was hiding. Apparently it serves you to keep the priest alive. But then that might suggest sympathy with the fifth column, and one would not think to accuse a military commander of. . . what is it the Earthlings say? ‘Speaking with forked tongue!’ Just who do you serve, Paul?”
“I serve The Leader, Eleanor, not the whims of Diana, nor of Jeffrey. There is no purpose in this personal vendetta. You have been persuaded to pursue a fruitless endeavor, and to violate the boundaries of your own authority.” He paused to assess her reaction, looking for a gap in her convictions. He found none. And so he stepped to the door, opened it, and ordered the guards he had stationed there to confine her to her quarters.
He glanced back as she went to the console to reach beyond his authority for help.
“That won’t work, Eleanor. I’ve already given orders that your requests are to be ignored and all communications are to go through my hands directly. You’ve chosen your allies poorly, my dear.”
He smiled and left, pleased to see the anger aroused in his victim, content now that his opponent had been suppressed.
Chapter 9
Hadad sat for a moment looking down at the lenses in his hand. The muscles in his abdomen pulsed. Ruth’s cries as she descended the mountain did not stop. Eventually he could not hear them anymore, but they continued inside him. And only when he could allow them to subside did the convulsions stop.
He reached into a pocket for the liquid he always carried. He would have to clean the lenses before he returned them to his eyes again. He stood and kicked dirt over the decaying mass in front of him. He would return later and add the leaves to freshen the area. For now, he could think only of the need for his lenses.
He went back to the campsite in the old trees and boiled water on Ruth’s stove. He looked at the tent, at her things, at his clothes still on the string under the tarp she had strung as a shelter from the rain. This could never be again. He knew that now, and then decided to take the clean clothes, bury the ones he was wearing that smelled of the vomited meat that had touched them.
The water boiled, and he cleaned the lenses and returned them to his eyes. He placed them carefully, and the world returned to the peephole reality that he had accustomed himself to for months. He put drops in his eyes to ease the rubbing on his lids.
Methodically he replaced things in the camp and then returned to the cave and cleaned the entrance, found rue and sage and mint and rubbed them to spread them over the tainted ground.
He heard the hover craft. He knew then that it must be high above him because it could not have navigated the gorge without lights, and he could see none. They were coming up the canyon. He had to warn Jerry, make sure he got the family out of Vida before morning. It was cloudy, no moon. They had to leave soon.
The path down the mountain was well worn. As he reached the garden he could still hear the hover craft above him. It had turned and was heading east. He crossed to the house and pounded on the door.
He waited only a moment and then pounded again. And then there was shuffling behind the door and Jerry’s voice muffled by the heavy wood.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Dave. They’re overhead. You have to go.”
“It’s him.” Mrs. Hardesty’s voice came from behind the door.
“Get me my rifle, Madge.” Jerry’s voice.
More shuffling.
“Jerry, open the door. You’ve got to listen to me.”
The door opened and a rifle edged through the crack. Hadad did not wait for an explanation, he jumped to the side of the porch and, hugging the building, ducking the windows, he ran back toward the forest. In the moment the door had opened he had seen Ruth, back by the far wall. She had told them. There was no other explanation.
Shots rang across the garden, and then footsteps followed. Only one person followed. The steps were heavy, probably Jerry’s. Hadad could easily outrun him. He climbed the path, and when he reached the first ridge he cut west around the mountain, leaving the path, risking the additional noise as he cut through the underbrush, listening for sounds to tell him how far he had out distanced his pursuer.
He had gained a few yards, but Jerry was following him easily. He cut up the mountain, through the old trees, back down to the east, staying high until he had gained more space between them.
And then he climbed into the densest of the old trees. They were noble pines, hard to climb, with no branches low to anchor a hand or foot for leverage. He shinned up the rough bark and his clothing tore as he moved.
Once in the shelter of the branches, he sat incredibly still. He listened to his pulse slowing deliberately. He watched, and listened for the sounds of man in the forest below. Jerry came to the tree he had climbed, passed it, came back, sat beneath him, swore at the ground, looked into the darkness all around him, leaned back into the tree, and then got up and returned down the mountain.
Hadad could not stay in that spot. He waited for a while and then carefully dropped to the ground. He would have to leave. He needed his jacket from the cave. He carefully worked his way back to the clearing, circled to make sure no one waited there for him. The clearing was empty. He found the jacket, took the things he needed, put them into his pocket, and started east to the road. He would cut down beyond Jerry’s farm, walk the forest parallel to the road until he passed the town, then try to catch a ride west.
He crossed Angel’s Flight Road and slipped into the trees on the other side. Carefully he edged down to the highway and behind the houses that staked claim to the level ground beside it, lighted markers in the moonless, starless night.
He heard footsteps on the covered bridge and voices. And then as he slipped behind the Cooper barn, he heard a shout: “There he is,” and a shot followed him into the forest. Again he climbed into the forest. But now there were too many following to listen for his pursuers. They spread in a fan behind him. He could not maneuver around them; all he had
to his advantage was speed.
He headed west, but the forest grew thicker there. It reached sharp fingers at him, tore at the clothes that were already shredded, ripped at the plastic beneath the thin covering. Blackberry bushes threaded between the trees in a thicket, and he had to rip himself out of their clutches. A briar caught his pants, and as he pulled one leg free, the other was grabbed by several more thorns. Voices came around the thicket. He pulled out of the pants and cut back to the east. He could run more freely through the aspens, but the voices gained on him and so he climbed into the underbrush again. Miscalculating the branches, he was caught here and there and tore free, gradually ripping the plastic from his body, exposing more and more of the mottled green and black beneath. He brushed aside a bush, caught his hand and ripped it, pushed through yet another bush, and found himself back at Angel’s Flight Road. He would have to cross, try to get to the other side without cover. He dove across the road, and just as he reached the shadows of the other side, he heard a woman’s scream right in front of him.
He pulled away to his right and dove for the forest. But a hissed whisper stopped him.
“No. Come here.”
He looked back in the direction of the voice. It was Ruth, standing by the open trunk of her car.
“Come here,” she whispered urgently.
He edged back to the car, watching for pursuers on the road and in the forest on the other side. There was no one yet.
“Get in the trunk,” she whispered.
He looked at her for a moment, and then obeyed.
As she closed the trunk on him, he saw the men on the road beyond her. They were running toward the car. And then there was blackness. He froze, trying to still his breathing. He had either found refuge or stepped into his own death. He was not sure.
Boots pounded on the pavement toward the car. “Are you all right?” It was Jerry’s voice.
“Oh, Jerry, he looked so awful.” Ruth sobbed the words. There had been no tears before the words. “He was here?”
“He came out of the forest over there. I was afraid he was going to come at me, but he didn’t. He ran down the road, toward the highway, then up into the forest, over there.”
“Come on, men. We’ll get that lizard.” Another voice.
Then Jerry’s.
“Ruth, are you going to be all right?”
“Oh, Jerry. It was so awful. I never realized . ..” She sobbed again.
“We were both fooled. Don’t blame yourself. Why don’t you go back to the house to Madge? You’ll be all right there.”
“I can’t stay here, Jerry. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know you’ve killed him. But I don’t want to think he’s still out there.” She cried now, tears that seemed as real as the ones she had cried earlier running down the mountain.
“Go on back to the house.”
“I want to get out of here.”
“You shouldn’t try to drive. You’re too upset.” “Let me go, Jerry. Just let me get out of here.” “Will you be careful?”
“I’ve got to go.”
“Okay. Okay. Have you got everything you need?” “It’s all in the car. The trunk is full.”
“Drive carefully, Ruth.”
“I will. Be careful yourself.”
“We’ll be all right.”
“Yeah.”
Boots moved away down the road. Hadad expected the trunk to open. It did not. There were lighter steps, then the door opening, closing. And then the ignition. He braced for the turns as the car moved into the road. The brakes squealed. He was thrown back as the car gunned forward, and then tossed from side to side as the car took the turns. She had gone west. He was not certain of life. All he knew was that death was not immediate, and so he slept.
He woke when the car stopped. The ignition was not turned off; other cars were idling beside him. Gradually the trunk space filled with exhaust. He took the knife from the jacket pocket and pressed on the valve of the spare tire and took a deep breath of the clean air that escaped. In a few moments the engines were turned off. He rationed his clean air, struggling as long as he could with the fumes around him. He was not certain where he was or how long he would be there.
The door opened.
“No, I can’t open the trunk, officer. I haven’t got the key with me. My brother has it in town.”
“Then we’ll just have to shoot the lock, lady. Nobody goes through without a thorough inspection. That’s the orders.”
“You will not shoot that lock.”
“Won’t hurt nothin’ inside.”
“Unless it does.”
“Not likely.”
“But how about the lock?”
“That’s the breaks, lady.”
“You shoot that lock, and I’m sunk. I can’t afford to replace it, and everything I own is in that trunk. Forget it.”
“Then you forget coming on this road, or any other road. We’re not taking any chances. You see those tanks? They’re ready to stop any invasion of the valley right here. We’ve got these on the roads, and antiaircraft on the mountains. There’s going to be one place on Earth for human beings even if they take the rest of the planet.”
“But I am a human being.”
“No chances, lady. That’s orders. I shoot that lock, or you turn back. That’s all there is.”
“Then I turn back.”
“Your choice. You can use the shoulder there.”
The steps moved away from the car, the door opened and closed, and the engine started again. Hadad was thrown hard against the back as the car edged out onto the shoulder and across the median into the east bound lane.
The car continued for about twenty minutes and then it stopped again. This time the door opened and closed, there were footsteps, a key in the lock, and the trunk opened.
The moon had come up and the sudden brightness was startling. Hadad turned and tried to sit up. “Watch your head. Here, let me help you out.”
He crouched in the space and swung first one leg, then the other, out over the bumper and down to the ground. His knees were shaky from the long run and the cramped curl he had held while he slept. He stretched, leaning against the car with one hand. Ruth closed the trunk.
“You might as well ride up front with me.” She looked down at his bare legs, strips of the plastic skin hanging from them, green beneath the rips. “You’r
e going to need a medicine plant.”
“Yes.”
“And another pair of pants.” She laughed. “You don’t even look like a respectable Visitor dressed like that.”
Hadad sighed, the tension of the evening lessened, not gone.
“I’ve got a pair of leathers in the backseat. They’ll probably fit you. After all, I made them for you.”
She moved to the side of the car, opened the back door, and got out a pair of pants like the legs of a deer. They were larger than the ones Hadad had seen at the store, cut to fit the larger muscles in his legs, cut like the pants that had been hanging on the line. He put them on. They were soft. They fit perfectly. He looked up at her, uncertain of what to say.
“We better get on the way; go on, get in.” Ruth spoke first.
“Thank you.”
“Go on, get in.”
Hadad got into the passenger seat. He waited while Ruth rummaged in the backseat, then shut the back door and got in behind the wheel. She handed him a canvas bag.
“There are bandages and needles, thread, pins, in there. You better get yourself patched up. I don’t know who we’re going to run into, but you look like hell. There may be something else back there that will fit you. Better get rid of the jacket too. We may have to go back through Vida.”
“To Vida?”
“I’m not certain. We can’t get through the roadblock. They’re doing full body searches back there. Nearly ripped my cheek off trying to make sure I wasn’t a lizard.”
“Ruth, you must go alone. It is not use for me to try to run farther.”
“You mean useful.”
“Oh, yes, useful. It is not useful for me to try to run farther.”
“It’s my fault they were chasing you out of Vida. I shouldn’t have said anything to Jerry, but I thought he would understand. Really I did. He came up into the woods when he heard me crying. I was so tired of
lying. I had to tell someone the truth.”
“You don’t have to explain.”
“Maybe I do. Maybe I have to explain to me. I betrayed you. And I didn’t mean to.” Her voice broke, but there were no tears to follow.
V 14 - The Oregon Invasion Page 11
