Davey could see it was no use. He shouted, ‘Rajah.’ He went bounding back down the rocks to the water’s edge, splashed up to the elephants. ‘Down, Champ. Sultan—down. Florrie—down. Candy.’ All the animals went leaping back to the rocks, bewildered.
‘Come, Rajah.’
Rajah turned and lumbered out of the river. He scrambled up the rocks, back onto the dark highway. Davey took his trunk and thrust it under Sally’s belly.
‘Lift, Rajah.’
Sally wailed in protest, and for a long moment she straddled the top rail, thrashing her legs. Then over she went.
First light was corning from the east, but down in the valley it was still dark. Over the Pigeon River a mist was swirling about Davey, water rushing about his-legs. He could not yet see the opposite bank, but he estimated he was nearly halfway across, about where the curve in the rapids began. The water was up to his knees, and he felt cautiously with his feet. Rajah was behind him, Dumbo hanging onto his tail. Davey took another cautious step; then his foot plunged beneath him, he lurched, and he plunged into the swirling water.
He gasped, ‘Stop!’ and the current swept him backward. He thrashed, and flailed, and kicked with all his might, but his feet were like lead in his sodden sneakers, and the current took him faster and faster, and his feet were not even breaking the water. He thrashed and he flailed, desperately trying to make it back to the rapids, but the rushing water carried him further and further, and already he was exhausted. Then he swung sideways and began to swim across the current, toward the southern bank.
Big Charlie was splashing frantically across the rapids, to get in front of the milling animals, upstream to avoid the curve that Davey had fallen into. The animals went stumbling and splashing after Charlie, Sam bounding behind, herding them, and Elizabeth lurching after Sam.
Davey was two hundred yards downstream, the river carrying him faster than the best man can swim; but he was only fifty yards from the south bank now. A hundred yards farther his feet hit rocks. The water still dragged him for another fifty yards. He clung, gasping.
Then, in the dawn, he heard the cars.
thirty-four
Sheriff Lonnogan and his men had been hiding in the trees at the south end of the bridge. The sheriff was asleep in the back seat of his car when his lookout hollered: There they are!’
They scrambled out of their cars, grabbing their guns, and dashed onto the bridge, not knowing what to expect. Jeb Wiggins was pointing upriver. They stared, astonished.
The sonsabitches weren’t crossing by the bridge at all. All they could see were the blurred bulks of the elephants. For a long moment they stared, and every man felt the sudden fear in his guts at the confrontation ahead. Then the sheriff recovered and snapped his orders.
Half the men piled into one car, which sped across the bridge to cut off the animals’ retreat in case they turned back; the rest piled into the sheriff’s car and drove down a track on the south bank. Then they dashed for the cover of the bushes.
Big Charlie splashed to a halt when he heard the car, Lonnogan hollered hoarsely out of the trees: ‘Halt or I shoot.’
Charlie was twenty yards from the bank. He shouted desperately, ‘I’m stopped.’
Elizabeth came splashing forward, crying, ‘Don’t shoot.’ She stopped beside Big Charlie, soaked from her waist down. ‘Don’t shoot.’
Lonnogan crouched behind a tree, staring at the river, waiting to see what happened. If they stampeded he was going to blast them. But nothing happened. He stood up, cautiously. He forced himself to full height. He started toward the riverbank, legs trembling. Across his chest he held a shotgun, and from both hips swung his six-guns.
At the edge of the bank he looked down at the extraordinary, frightening scene: the big Indian, the wild-eyed woman, the elephants with their loads of shaggy gorillas, chimps, and big cats. Kid Lonnogan and Jeb Wiggins stood up slowly behind their shrubbery, each with rifles and six-guns. Sheriff Lonnogan took a breath and tilted his cowboy hat, chewing gum.
‘Where’s the other Wild Man from Cherokee?’
Elizabeth opened her mouth, but Big Charlie jerked his head back at the north bank. ‘Back there. In the forest.’
‘Oh, yeah? An’ you call me sheriff, you hear? What’s he doin’ back there, Sittin’ Bull? Why ain’t he with y’all?’
Big Charlie’s mind was fumbling for a plan. His eyes darted down the bank. ‘Sittin’ Bull wasn’t a Cherokee. You want to call me anything funny, call me Draggin’ Canoe.’
Sheriff Lonnogan paused in his chewing of gum.
‘An’ none of your lip. Or they’ll be callin’ you Draggin’ Ass, ’cos that’s what your ass’ll be doin’. Now, where’s the Wild Man?’
‘Sprained his ankle, bad. Back there in the forest.’
Sheriff Lonnogan looked at Elizabeth. ‘You the vet lady I hear about ma’am?’
‘I am.’
‘You joined sides with these wild guys?’
Elizabeth snapped, ‘I am here absolutely officially. To care medically for the animals, until their recapture.’
‘You realize you tell me one lie, you become an accomplice to these guys, ma’am?’
‘Of course I’m not an accomplice. Don’t talk rubbish!’
‘Law ain’t rubbish, ma’am. Now, if you ain’t an accomplice you better come right out of that river in case the bullets start flyin’.’
She cried, ‘Professor Ford’s orders were strictly no shooting! And I’m here to tell you, Sheriff, that if one shot is fired I personally will see you’re prosecuted to the highest court in the United States.’
‘Dr. Ford ain’t got no jurisdiction over me, ma’am. I happen to be a duly-elected sheriff, and as such I’m responsible under the Constitution of the United States for the maintenance of public safety. Now, get out of that river.’
‘I most certainly will not if you’re threatening to fire.’
Big Charlie said, to keep him talking, ‘I want to see your warrant of arrest.’
Lonnogan looked at him. He smirked. ‘Wise guy as well as wild guy, huh? Come on out, Mr. Buffalohorn, an’ I’ll show you.’
‘You come in here, Sheriff, an’ show me your warrant—unless you don’t want to get your pretty boots wet.’
Sheriff Lonnogan looked at him a long moment in genuine surprise.
‘Oh, boy, injun, you sure lookin’ to get your ass in a sling.’ He said to Jeb Wiggins, without taking his eyes off Charlie, ‘Get onto the radio to Ford’s bunch and tell him we got ’em nailed down in the Pigeon. Tell him to get some reinforcements pronto, an’ them circus trucks. Then call up the television an’ tell ’em where the action’s at.’ He pulled one six-gun out of its holster. He spun it around his finger, then pointed it at Big Charlie, from his hip. ‘Okay, come out of that cold river an’ get yerself arrested; otherwise you goin’ to get more like Sittin’ Duck than Sittin’ Bull.’
Elizabeth lunged through the water and flung herself in front of Big Charlie. Everybody was astonished.
‘Now listen here, Sheriff! You fire one shot, and I’ll see you hanged! This man’s not trying to escape arrest. One shot and these animals will stampede in all directions.’
Lonnogan stared at her; then waved his gun.
‘Out of the way, lady. Or you’re an accomplice.’
‘Like hell I am! I’m going to stop you scattering these animals to the four winds. Call Professor Ford on your radio and stop playing cowboys and Indians. Because, if you fire, all hell’s going to break loose. And you’ll never get them back, and half of them’ll drown!’
Rajah swung his trunk nervously. At that moment Big Charlie glimpsed Davey. He was creeping through the bushes, silently making for the sheriff’s car.
Jeb Wiggins was hunched in the driver’s seat, over the two-way radio. Davey slipped into the back seat; one hand slipped over Jeb’s mouth. Jeb’s eyes bulged, and Davey’s other hand came down on the back of his head in a smart chop. Jeb Wiggins slumped. Big Charlie said loudly, ‘Okay,
I’m coming out … Ain’t nobody going to start shootin’ on my account.’
Lonnogan was surprised.
‘Hands on your head. And make those animals stay where they at.’
Davey pulled Wiggin’s handcuffs off his belt. He feverishly manacled Jeb’s wrists to the wheel. Then he wrenched the transmitter out of the radio. He shoved the ignition keys into his pocket.
Big Charlie came plodding through the water toward the bank. Elizabeth was astonished. Lonnogan had his six-gun trained on the big Indian. Kid Lonnogan had both his pearl-handled six-guns fixed on the animals. Davey slid out of the car, and started tiptoeing through the trees. Big Charlie reached the bank and started clambering up the rocks. Davey was six paces behind the lawmen. He slid behind a tree.
Big Charlie reached the top of the bank. ‘Stop there … Hold out both your wrists.’
‘I got a right to see the warrant,’ Big Charlie said.
‘When you’re good and handcuffed—otherwise the bullets’ll start flyin’.’
Big Charlie sighed, and held out his wrists.
Lonnogan put down his shotgun and holstered his six-gun. He took his handcuffs off his hip, snapped them open, and stepped forward.
Davey bounded from behind his tree and sprang at Kid Lonnogan, and at the same moment Charlie seized the sheriff’s wrists.
Davey wrenched Kid Lonnogan’s guns upward, and they fired, and Elizabeth shrieked, and the animals scrambled around in the water, and they stampeded. Bounding and splashing, wild-eyed, back over the rapids the way they had come and the deputies across the river opened fire. First one wild shot, then they were all firing into the. water and the air, to turn the terrible stampede and the animals swung downriver. Lunging and bounding, terrified out of their minds, and they crashed over the edge of the rapids into the rushing water beyond.
Big Charlie yanked Boots Lonnogan onto his knees, and snapped the handcuffs on his wrists. Davey was still wrestling with Kid Lonnogan, one arm around the man’s neck in a headlock, the other clutching his wrist; Kid was punching him in the guts, and the gun exploded again. Big Charlie grabbed his wrist and twisted it back until Kid Lonnogan bellowed, and the gun fell. Charlie slapped Kid’s handcuffs onto one wrist, then wrenched father and son back-to-back, and handcuffed them together. He snatched the keys off their belts and flung them into the river,
Davey was already chasing flat out after the animals. On the opposite bank the deputies were scrambling back into their car. Charlie snatched up the two lawmen’s guns and rifle. He hurled the shotguns into the river and started after Davey. Sheriff Lonnogan wrenched at his manacles and bellowed. ‘You got it comin’ to you!’
thirty-five
Rajah swam, his head half under water, Jamba beside him, their trunks up like periscopes. Dumbo was swimming desperately behind them, his trunk tip clinging to Jamba’s tail. The lions swam furiously, ears back, sodden tails streaming behind them, Tommy in the lead, the bears in their midst. The chimpanzees and gorillas were everywhere, wild-eyed, heads up, jaws agape, beating their arms like drowning children. Elizabeth was way ahead, stumbling after Davey, and Charlie was bringing up the rear with his stolen guns, looking feverishly for cover.
There were two good boulders. He threw himself behind them. He could see twenty yards up the track, and he could see the rocky river bank quite clearly. He checked the magazines of the six-guns, then lay on his stomach, panting, the first gun ready.
He had never fired one of these things before.
About fifteen minutes later he heard them coming.
It had only taken the rest of the posse a few minutes to get back across the bridge and find their sheriff. But they had wasted five minutes trying, unsuccessfully, to unmanacle Lonnogan and his son; another five trying equally unsuccessfully, to get Jeb Wiggins free of his steering wheel. They tried to use the radio and found the transmitter ripped out. Then they decided that Jeb Wiggins should try to drive, still lashed to the wheel, with another deputy to change the gears, to fetch reinforcements: only to discover the ignition keys were gone. Then the three unmanacled deputies had set off down the riverbank, with Lonnogan and his co-manacled son staggering behind, twisted back-to-back.
The three deputies ran through the undergrowth, anxiously scanning the river more than where they going. Big Charlie’s gun cracked the morning open, and the bark flew off a tree right in front of Fred Wiggins. They all threw themselves flat. Charlie filled his chest, gave a Cherokee war whoop, and let fly with his six-gun for the sheer hell of it.
Bang-wang! Bang-wang! Bang-wang!
Bullets ricocheted over the deputies’ heads. They went wriggling in all directions, looking for solid rock, and fifty yards back Lonnogan and his son stumbled in their crab-run and crashed into the undergrowth. Big Charlie’s bullets cracked and whined overhead, and Lonnogan bellowed furiously, ‘Gettem! Just gettem!’
Rajah’s feet hit rock, but the current swept him on; he scrambled and hit more rock, and he heaved; he was half out of the water, flanks heaving, glinting black in the sunrise. Jamba was swept on downriver with Dumbo clinging to her tail. Fifty yards farther, Tommy clawed his way up the steep rocky bank, and twenty yards farther Auntie and King Kong were thrashing toward the bank.
Jamba swam, trunk up, wild-eyed, Dumbo milling behind her. Her hooves flailed rocks, and she tried to anchor herself, but the current swept her on as wind swings a sail, and Dumbo was swung outstream, panic thudding in his chest and water choking his snorting trunk tip. Jamba was swept against a big boulder; she scrambled her hooves frantically, snorting and slipping, and half-heaved herself out of the water, and the current wrenched Dumbo’s bulk off her tail, and the river took him.
Dumbo tried to squeal, and it just came out in a gurgle and he thrashed and thrashed, trunk upflung, trying to raise his head out of the water to see, but the current swept him on like an express train, into the middle of a rushing channel. He pounded his hooves and he squealed, and water sprayed up his trunk into the sunrise. Now he was thrashing downriver, and he did not know where anything was anymore, and all he could see was frothing white water.
Jamba lumbered frantically along the riverbank, rocks tumbling beneath her feet, and she gave a scream ordering Dumbo to come back. But Dumbo was thirty yards downstream now, thrashing and spraying, water in his eyes and ears, and the current swept him on, out toward the tumultuous middle. Jamba went blundering back down the rocks like a tank, and she plunged back into the river with a mighty splash. Davey feverishly ripped off his sneakers and slung off his knapsack, and dove in with her.
He broke surface, gasping, and swam flat out with the current. All Dumbo knew was the crashing exhaustion and the dreadful panic of drowning, and he did not know where he was trying to swim to anymore. Ahead, the river curved into a narrow bend, and the water leaped and twisted.
The little elephant was only ten yards ahead of Davey when he was sucked into the bend of the river. He was almost finished now, his head underwater, just his trunk tip sticking up, his legs weakly working. Davey was swept into the bend after him, with Jamba surging ten yards behind him. Exhaustion was seizing Davey’s guts, his arms and legs crying out to collapse, but he kicked and kicked toward the little trunk tip twisting above the swirling water. Then he hit it. He grabbed it wildly, and it clasped his hand tight. Then, in a giant rush, they were both gone under the leaping, killer white water, and there was nothing in the world but the terrifying choking in his throat and the tumbling of his body. The trunk tip was wrenched out of his grasp. Davey was pulled underwater with half a strangled gasp of air in his lungs, and the elephant crashed against him. He kicked and fought wildly back to the surface, spitting and gasping, and sucked in a mouthful of choking water; then Jamba hit him. In an invincible mass of hooves her great belly turned barreling over him, and he was knocked to the bottom of the rushing river again without any air. He kicked with the last of his terrified strength and broke surface again, choking—and he saw Jamba’s rump and he blindly gr
abbed at her tail. He got it, and they were swept on downriver. He clung, gasping, coughing, trying to see. But there was nothing of Dumbo to be seen.
Just the swirling, leaping water. Thirty yards ahead the river widened again. On they swept, kicking and spitting; then Jamba’s feet hit rock, and the same moment Davey saw the little trunk tip. He let go of Jamba and kicked with all his might, kicked and thrashed and flailed, almost crying, stretching for Dumbo. And the drowning elephant clutched at him.
With all his might, his trunk curling desperately around Davey’s arm, trying to heave himself up out of the water, and Davey went under again, shoved under by three tons of drowning elephant trying to climb on top of him. Davey wildly tried to pull his wrist free, and all he knew was the pounding of hooves and the terrified exhaustion and the water strangling in his throat; then his feet hit rock, and at the same moment the trunk was wrenched off his arm, and Jamba was beside him.
She had seized the little elephant’s trunk in hers and pulled it up on high, and Davey Jordan was free. Jamba was standing, enormous and snorting and staggering, the water curling off her flanks. Davey grabbed her ear, and he clung. And the feel of it, holding him up out of the water, seemed the sweetest feeling he had ever known.
part eight
thirty-six
Before the World was made, all the creatures lived in the sky, on the Sky Rock; and all living things spoke the same language, so they all understood each other. But the creature called Man tried to be too clever, so the Great One punished him by making him deaf to the speech of the other creatures.
Now, the creatures multiplied, and the Sky Rock became more and more crowded; until there was danger that some would be pushed off. So a council was called, of all the creatures, to decide what was to be done about this uncomfortable situation. By this time the Great One had made the World, which was floating around the Sky Rock; but, alas, it was completely covered in water. It seemed to the council that such a place was no solution to their problems, but it was decided to send down the Water Beetle, to see if he could find a single dry place where they all could live.
Fear No Evil Page 20
