The Druid Gene

by Jennifer Foehner Wells

  It drew closer, hovering just above her. A primordial shiver went down her spine. She held her breath and didn’t move.

  Its translucent wings were beating so fast they were a blur, generating a breeze that stirred the hair around her face. The light had become too poor to see any but the most prominent details. The creature’s body was long and narrow, dark in color with glittering green spots. Two huge, bulbous eyes dominated its head, reflecting and bending the light in a wavy pattern. They almost looked like astronaut helmets.

  It was assessing her, she felt sure. Her fingertips burned with energy, her power called up without her thinking about it.

  The insect jerked to one side and nosedived behind her. She turned to watch it scoop up some wriggling thing with its legs, bringing the prey toward its mandibles as it rose back up in the air. She could just make out an outline of its victim in the dim light. It seemed to be an insect about the size of a guinea pig, but dark and shiny, maybe a beetle. She heard a crunch. The beetle’s struggles ceased and the winged creature zipped off out of sight.

  So these huge bugs were carnivorous. She couldn’t be sure how hungry these things got or whether they might work together in groups to take down larger prey. She didn’t want to be something else’s dinner, so she gathered her things and quietly slid off the log. She would stay out of sight while they hunted in her vicinity.

  She crawled beneath the structure she’d made and was suddenly sure it was woefully inadequate. She and Adam would have made a fire in the wilds back home, but here that might only make things worse. Raub had mentioned it was a high-oxygen world. She knew that patients who used oxygen had to be treated with extra care because even a little more of the gas in the air could turn a spark into an out-of-control fire. Even if that was something she could control, she didn’t want to find out what insects on this world might be drawn to a flame, assuming that what she knew about insects generally could be applied here. There was no way to know. Not yet.

  The eyes of that insect haunted her. It had been hunting at dusk—it was probably adapted to hunt all night like an owl, catching less visually adept creatures unawares as they went about their business. That was creeping her out, big time.

  So far she’d seen only three creatures, and they’d all been super-sized insects. She remembered what Tesserae71 had said about oxygen being the limiting factor that kept insects from getting larger. That proved that Raub hadn’t been lying about it being a high-oxygen atmosphere.

  She hadn’t seen any mammals, amphibians, or lizards, which seemed strange to her. Was it possible those animals didn’t exist here?

  She’d known all along that the forest was full of life because she could hear it, but she’d either been oblivious to the sight of it or the creatures stayed well hidden most of the time. She would have to pay more attention to her environment and pick things up fast if she was going to survive.

  She laid the blanket on the ground and sat down on it, leaning back against the log. She tried to get comfortable as she inspected the water-collecting flask. It had produced a tiny sip. That was better than nothing. At least it wet her mouth.

  She fished the broken bolt out of the tiny pocket on her jumpsuit and toyed with it until the light was completely gone and she could no longer see the bolt’s glint. She needed rest but she couldn’t let her guard down. For now all she could do was curl up against the log with the knife in her hand and analyze every sound she heard, replaying everything that had happened that day in her mind as she waited for dawn.

  Her muscles ached from the exertion of the day and her feet were abraded, bruised, and possibly blistered. Morning was a long time coming, but she was getting used to being patient.

  This planet felt very big and scary. She felt very small and alone.

  36

  Toward morning fatigue took over and Darcy dozed. When light began to peep between the leaves on her improvised shelter, though, she came fully awake. Her feet seemed to have recovered from the trek of the day before. The reservoir in the canteen was full and she drank it greedily, grateful for the pure taste of water on her tongue. She was groggy and stiff, but she had a fresh feeling of resolve.

  She’d had plenty of time to think about her options, and she had decided she didn’t know enough. There was no reason to trust anything anyone had said to her aboard either the Vermachten or the tern. The only person she could have any faith in at this point was herself.

  She was going to begin by climbing the tallest tree she could find to get the lay of the land. She could hike for days in this wood and never reach the end of it, especially if she went in the wrong direction. Climbing a hill would certainly be preferable, but she couldn’t see any.

  She crawled out of the shelter, the pack on her back with the water-generating flask dangling from it. She looked up warily but didn’t see any sign of the large, winged creatures from the evening before. The forest was markedly quieter now, though not silent by any means. There was just a lot of discordant, arrhythmic chirping and clacking with an occasional deep droning sound. Nothing moved that she could see in the immediate area.

  She took off hiking down the tern’s trail. Again, she was struck with the sense that she didn’t need to be so cautious. She felt sure she could easily locate the landing site.

  She found a small rise in the landscape and focused her search for trees there. One in particular stood out. With a trunk like an ancient redwood, it was stout and tall. It had a few branches low enough to the ground to be accessible. This was the one.

  She hadn’t been the kind of kid to climb trees. She’d been born into the internet era. There were so many interesting things to do inside, like playing Ocarina of Time or blabbing on the phone endlessly about Buffy. Spending time outside had never held much appeal for her. But there was no reason why she couldn’t climb one. It couldn’t be that hard.

  Yeah. It was hard.

  She got her right foot firmly onto a knot and pushed herself up, reaching for the lowest branch, which was a few feet out of reach from ground level. Her angle was bad and she slipped back down, scraping the inside of her leg and both arms. She didn’t take the time to even look at the scrapes. She knew from her injuries on the tern that they’d be gone in hours. Getting to the top of the tree was more important than some bloody abrasions.

  She kept at it until she figured out how to position her body properly. It took more than a few attempts to learn that she had to hug the tree with arms and legs and grip the bark with her left foot as well in order to stay stable for the seconds she needed to get ahold of the branch.

  Then it was about sheer strength and lots of scraping against rough bark. She maneuvered her other hand onto the branch and swung her lower body, crunching her abs with everything she had, until she finally got a leg up. When she got herself seated on the branch, she stopped for only a moment to celebrate the achievement, panting, until the burn in her abdomen subsided a bit. Then she was up and going for the next one.

  She’d chosen the tree well, despite the difficulty of heaving herself up to the first branch. The branches in this tree had grown in a radial spiral from the trunk, and the distance between them grew shorter the higher she climbed, so the work got easier with each successive branch. Luckily she didn’t have much of an issue with heights—a healthy respect, but no phobia or anything. When any doubts entered her head, she reminded herself that plenty of children on Earth had scrambled up and down trees since the beginning of time and lived to play another day.

  Several times she startled creatures from their roosts, but it was hard to get a good look at them as they scurried for cover or took flight. They did all seem to be insectoid in nature, and bigger than any insect she’d ever seen on Earth, but harmless enough. They were obviously more afraid of her than she was of them, which was some comfort.

  She’d lost the squeamishness she’d had over insects because of spending so much time with Tesserae71, but he was sentient, and they could communicate and understand each ot
her. Raub had said there was no intelligent indigenous life on this planet, but she had no idea if that was the truth, so she began to use the dummy-chip language to greet each insect she disturbed. None of them answered her.

  She felt driven to rush to the top, to ignore the need for breaks, food, or water. Only one thing gave her pause. Textbook images of human mutilation from freak accidents flashed through her mind. Clinicals weren’t supposed to be until next year, so she didn’t have any surgical or ER experience to counter her feeling of urgency, but she’d studied enough of human anatomy to know her body was fragile.

  She didn’t have any safety equipment to catch her if she made a mistake. No matter how great her regeneration ability was now, she doubted it could fix the damage a cracked skull would leave in her brain or a sharp tree limb would through the heart. So she slowed down and kept anchored securely with three out of four limbs at all times.

  She wondered what Adam would think if he could see her now. He would be proud of her, she thought. He’d always wanted her to enjoy more outside activities with him. She wished he were here. But then he’d be in danger too.

  The foliage became less dense. She was seeing more and more sky and catching glimpses that spanned greater distances. She reached for a branch and tested its strength. They were thinner up here, and she wasn’t sure how much higher she could go before they wouldn’t be able to support her weight. Something pricked or stung her hand. She jerked back and swayed precariously for a moment before regaining control.

  Several dots of bright red blood welled up on the back of her hand. She instinctively brought it to her mouth and looked more closely at the limb she’d been grabbing for. She stopped the motion to her mouth when she realized what she was looking at.

  It was a stick insect so large she’d originally thought it was a small branch coming off the main one. It was hunched up with its hindquarters curled over its head, waving legs that sported wicked-looking spines. She hoped there wasn’t some kind of poison secreted from the points of those prickly appendages.

  “Hey, I’m a friend,” she said to it. “I didn’t mean to surprise you. I hope I didn’t hurt you or anything.”

  It kept waving the spiky legs at her and didn’t reply.

  “Okay, okay, killer. I guess you don’t talk. I’ll just get out of your way so you can get back to eating leaves or whatever.”

  She wiped her hand on her clothes and carefully moved away to try another limb, keeping her eye out for similar insects. If she’d just been poisoned she’d know soon enough. Potential treatments went through her mind, though none of them would be available in the treetops of an alien world. Wouldn’t it be funny if Raub tracked her down and found her stiff as a board at the bottom of this tree? It would almost be worth it to thwart all his scheming.

  Finally she reached a point where she could see in all directions. The view was breathtaking. It confirmed what she remembered of their descent in the tern. The forest went on as far as the eye could see in every direction—except for small blackened patches that forest fires had burned, probably started by lightning.

  But there was something. Wait a minute. She leaned forward to push down on an arching branch to lower it out of her field of view.

  What the heck was that?

  Okay, there were two things. One looked like a big industrial complex that had been carved out of the trees and walled in. She would have to assume that was the belastoise mining operation. It made sense that Raub would land near it. He would need a way off this planet once he was done with her. The compound looked promising. A feeling of hope surged up inside her. Except as her eye traced the circumference of the wall she didn’t see any breaks that looked like gates. That could be a problem. If she could find a way inside, she might be granted sanctuary—unless the belastoise were crazy bigots like Nembrotha had told her. She couldn’t be sure that was the truth.

  But not far from there was…what?

  She stared hard, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. She wished she had binoculars so she could make out more detail.

  It was some kind of superstructure. Six—or possibly eight…the air was hazy with heat and humidity and it was far away—spindly black legs towered over the trees and supported a rounded, shiny, black platform topped with…clouds? Was that an optical illusion? The stuff on the surface of it was white and fluffy looking and receded into the actual clouded sky. It looked very sculptural, almost organic in nature. Who had made that? The belastoise? It was near their compound, but the two structures didn’t share any architectural elements.

  Her eyes bulged. Wait…what?

  It was moving.

  One of the legs lifted in the air and then slowly set back down.

  She leaned precariously forward, trying to see better. She slipped and scrambled to regain her footing, bracing herself again. She scanned the horizon in every direction, looking for more of these huge things, but there was just one that she could see.

  Was that a spider? If so, what was on its back? And what could a spider that large possibly eat? She shuddered. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  Could it be mechanical? Some kind of transportation? If so, hitching a ride could be a good way to outsmart Raub. She’d just disappear.

  While she watched, the thing lifted another leg and eased forward another step. What would it do when it got to the mining colony?

  She could sit up here and watch that thing all day and still be none the wiser. She had to get moving. Raub had only given her three days. Now she had an idea of which direction to head in, and she wasn’t going to waste another minute.

  37

  Getting down from the tree was harder than getting up had been. She was fatigued from lack of sleep, and the pack kept catching on branches. Her muscles were cramping from dehydration. She was hungry too, though she was dreading eating more of the crackers Raub had sent with her.

  But she made it down. She turned slowly in a circle. That strange sense oriented her. She still knew where the tern had landed, but now she also knew which direction led toward the mining colony. Maybe it was an instinct that her druid ancestors had passed on to her that she’d just never noticed before, like homing pigeons using the Earth’s magnetic field. She hoped it wasn’t some hysterical delusion that was going to screw everything up. She decided to trust it because she didn’t have any other choice. Even if she’d had a compass, she wouldn’t know how to use it on an alien world. To be honest, she wouldn’t know how to use one on Earth.

  She drank all her water and choked down some bites of cracker, then decided to do her best to throw Raub off her trail. She went back to the landing path the tern had made and continued down it in the same direction she’d been going in before for about a quarter mile, making sure to leave evidence that she’d been there.

  He’d use traditional tracking techniques. She’d learned that from playing the VR hunting game with him. He thought employing anything aside from his own senses was cheating. But he had an advantage in that his senses were more developed than the average human’s. Tricking him wouldn’t be easy, but she had to try.

  She doubled back, stepping carefully so she wouldn’t leave footprints or any other telltale sign going toward the tern. She reached a point where a low limb overhung the path, stood on top of a stone, and got herself up on that limb, then maneuvered around to the other side of the tree to a lower-hanging branch going off in another direction. She crawled out on that limb until it bowed down to the ground under her weight and dropped at least fifty feet from where she’d been on the trail.

  She landed as lightly as she could and took off at a lope. It was hot and she was sweating freely. Dehydration was going to be her biggest problem if she didn’t find a stream soon. The water-making flask couldn’t keep up with the amount of water she needed.

  Darcy took the bolt out of her pocket and experimented with it whenever she slowed to a walk as a break from running. She could make it plunge and soar if she really concentrated. She
attempted to shoot it like a bullet and then called it back. She’d have to practice that a lot more.

  She watched the shadows in the forest to keep track of time. When the twin suns were directly overhead the heat had reached its peak and she was slowing down from thirst and fatigue. She forced herself to keep going. Slow movement was better than no movement. She had no idea how long it would take her to reach that compound, but she guessed it would be longer than three days.

  She kept up a clumsy plodding jog for what felt like a few more hours. She’d never tried to run this long in her life. She was somewhat surprised that she could keep it up.

  She began to see glimpses of orange and yellow through the trees. When she got closer she could see the bright colors came from a small glade carpeted with large flowers with orange centers and floppy yellow petals that were stirring in the gentle breeze. She stopped at the tree line, bending at the waist and clutching the stitch in her side, sucking in gulps of air, to take it in.

  This is what makes me human. I can appreciate the beauty in the sight of this.

  Would Raub see anything of worth if he looked at this? What did he value aside from this insane hunt? She didn’t have a clue. She didn’t understand him at all. Everything he’d shown her had been an act.

  She sighed wearily and stepped into the clearing. Without warning the glade transformed into a churning yellow mass as hundreds, maybe thousands, of enormous moths or butterflies took flight as a group.

  Darcy stumbled back, coughing and waving her hands in front of her face as the air filled with a yellow dust that tasted sharp and bitter. She wasn’t sure if it was pollen or something coating their wings. They flitted off into the forest in every direction. Only a few stayed behind to re-alight upon the orange flowers, which she could now see—through a heavy yellow haze—were virtually petal-less.

  So much for the glade. She skirted it and then realized why it was there when she began to hear a burbling sound. There was a stream nearby. She dumped her stuff on the bank and jumped in. Her perspiration-slick skin was coated with sticky yellow stuff, and while she suspected that the dust might mask her scent, it was uncomfortable and she wanted it off.