Freedom's Landing Page 8

  Finding herself a space, she caught the beastie that Sandy tossed her. Limp, soft, but firmly packed. The hide was unexpectedly pleasant to touch though the muted gray-brown was an unearthly color. It wasn’t a furry hide, rather a suedey covering. Turning it around on her slab to examine it closely, she couldn’t see what had killed it until she noticed that one half of the “head” had been mashed. Too small to have been done by a club and certainly not a blow from the broad-edged hatchets they’d been issued. It did have four legs, a chunky rounded body, and not much neck before the blunt end that was its “head.” She gave a sigh and, giving a quick glance around to see how others were tackling the job, she flipped it to its back and, tipping the head up, began the job of dressing it.

  It had more meat on it than either rabbit or squirrel, having heavy haunches and well-developed shoulders. Her knife, while large enough to be a shade unwieldy for precision surgery, was sharp. She made a bit of a hash of stripping the hide off the legs, but hell, you didn’t lose much below the “knee.” She had just finished when Sandy appeared with another one and thus she spent her morning. There seemed to be endless quantities of that beastie and another, also suede-covered, with membranous wings that felt slimy. No meat on such wings but she was told to save these, too.

  “Did you get something to eat?” Sandy asked her at one point.

  “Yes, something from one of the squatty things, I think.”

  “If we had a pot to stew in, we could make everything go further,” Sandy said with a rueful smile. “Bob the Herb,” and she grinned back at Kris’ startled expression, “well, he knew Terran herbs and he found some root sorts of things that oughtn’t to poison us. And some rather delicious sharp-tasting berries. At least, the Cat thought they’d be edible. He ate ’em and didn’t get the trots but Cats can eat a lot that’d give us the green apple two-step.”

  Kris paused, another trick coming to mind. She sat back on her heels. “We got any natural holes anywhere? I mean, holes with floors so they wouldn’t leak?”

  “Why?”

  “Well, they’d make a self-contained stew pot. Fill one with water, then drop in clean heated stones. That’d boil the water and whatever else you had in it.”

  “It would?”

  “I haven’t done it, but the theory’s sound. A pot’s only something you can move around.”

  “What heathen country did you get that from?”

  Kris laughed. “The old Irish used to do that. I saw the places in the south of Ireland. Great tourist attractions but the guide swore that was what field workers used when they didn’t want to trek all the way back to their homes.”

  “Well, I never,” Sandy said and went off, cocking her head this way and that.

  “Hey, gal, you made it up,” a cheerful voice said and Kris looked up from the animal she had just eviscerated to see Jay Greene making his way to her. He had a brace of avians in each hand. From the angle of their heads, their necks had been broken.

  “Hi, Jay. Say, just how are these things being caught, or killed?”

  “Snares work as well on this planet as any other,” he said, looking pleased. “Probably better. Fortunately for me, these fowls are stupider’n turkeys and will eat anything edible, especially ration bar crumbs.”

  “You knew about snares?”

  “‘Semper Paratus,’ like the Boy Scouts used to say,” he said modestly. “I worked one out and Mitford showed us how to use a slingshot. A crack shot, too.” He was properly respectful. “Haven’t got any elastic, but with a little practice and the right flick of the wrist, you can aim pretty accurate. The rocksquatters haven’t got sense enough to be scared, so they sit there and die young! Hey, you’re pretty good with that knife!”

  “Yeah, I am,” she said blithely. “Yours next?” She reached for his burden while she honed the tip of her knife on the rock of her table.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and, pretending extreme caution as she sharpened, deposited the bodies on the other side of her table.

  The heat of the sun made her stop, mop her sweaty forehead on her sleeve, and realize that she’d been working steadily for long enough to get a crick in her neck and more blood than she liked on her coverall. Blood always attracted insects. At least on Earth and Barevi it had.

  She finished the rocksquat she was currently cleaning and stood up, taking the result to the next in the line of preparation.

  “I want a wash, a drink, and some time off,” she told Sandy.

  Sandy gave her directions to find the underground lake. More torches had been installed, so the path was well enough lit to keep Kris from stumbling down the uneven levels of the path. When she reached the end, she saw the viney rope, with knots in it to help you shinny up. Peering over the edge, she saw that there was sand to cushion the shock of the jump, which was roughly two meters down. The torch showed her the perceptible movement of the water flowing past this point. But she remembered that stillish waters could run deep. Sandy hadn’t told her not to dunk herself in, but she also hadn’t said she could. She bellied down to the edge of the water and took a quick sip: it had a soda-ish aftertaste but it wasn’t bad. She buried her face in the water, then, sucking in a longer drink. That was when the desire to be rid of the sweat and dirt of the past few days became irresistible.

  Kris was first prudent enough to see if the vine rope reached far enough into the water so she could hang on to it for her bath. It did. She sloughed off the wrap-around boots and the coverall and, keeping the vine rope in one hand, eased herself into the water. It was cold: no doubt about that, but it felt so good. She gave herself as thorough a scrub as she could with one hand—and no soap—in probably the fastest bath she’d ever taken. Using her blanket, she dried herself as well as she could with the nonabsorbent material and rinsed out the bloodied sleeves of her coverall and the front of it where blood had spattered. She was back in her clothes, despite the dampness, and putting on the boots when she heard voices nearing. She hauled herself up to the top and started back, much refreshed by the respite.

  She kept close to the right-hand wall as the group descending passed her.

  “We gotta keep hold of that rope,” one of the men was saying, “’cos the current’s fast according to the Cat.”

  “God, what I wouldn’t give for a razor!”

  “Sharpen your knife, buddy,” someone else said with a laugh. “That’s what pioneers did.”

  When Kris found her way back to her sleeping place, she saw that Patti Sue was the only one there, and still asleep. She dithered to herself about bringing some food back and making sure the girl ate, but maybe sleep was more important. The way the hunters had been bringing in game there’d be some for her when she did wake up. Only how long would the game remain stupid enough to hang around and die? There were a lot of people to be fed.

  That was when she heard a lot of noisy shouting and glad cries. She made her way to the main cave again and tried to figure out what all the shouting was about. Everyone seemed very pleased. Bart was grinning like he’d just drawn a lotto number.

  “What’s up, Bart?”

  “They found food. A mountain of it.” Then he recalled himself to his duties and turned the pieces cooking at his fire before they were reduced to char.

  “Where? Things we can eat?” Kris found herself regarding the French-browned food hungrily.

  “I guess so—or why roar so much?” he said with a shrug.

  Kris took herself where she could hear what was being roared.

  “Mountains of food!” “Some kinda storage cave. Like a silo.” “And other doors we couldn’t open…yet!” “They’d have to be saving for centuries.” “No one near, no footprints, just cracks in the stone like something real big stood there.”

  She worked her way through the excited people toward the front of the cave, hoping to see someone she could ask for specifics. The “storage” cave bit worried her. It suggested that Zainal’s information had been incorrect. You don’t store things, especi
ally food, where there’re no bodies to eat it.

  “…Scratch tests will give you a quick idea,” an Asian was saying in a firm voice. “They worked on some of the game you guys caught as well as the roots and berries.”

  “Can we use the same method for the Rugarians and the Deskis, Matt?” she heard Mitford’s voice ask.

  “Gee, I don’t know, Sarge. I was paramedic for human types.”

  “Zainal, can you ask ’em?” Mitford switched to Barevi.

  “Yes. I will ask,” and Kris saw a movement among those crowded around Mitford as Zainal left to make his inquiries.

  “Okay, listen up!” Mitford’s voice assumed parade-ground volume. “I need some volunteers—you, you, you and you. Roll up your sleeves. We got samples we need to test.”

  Suddenly the press of bodies thinned out as many decided not to be “volunteered” for any other bright ideas Mitford had in mind.

  “Was food all that was found?” Kris asked as she moved toward Mitford.

  “Isn’t that enough?” a woman asked in an irritable voice.

  “It’s a help, surely, but we need so many things to set up a habitable place…”

  “Habitable? That’s a laugh,” the woman said and moved away from Kris.

  “All that food could be a laugh, too,” Greene said, appearing at her side, “if we can’t stomach it.”

  “Anyone got any idea why there are such stores?” Kris asked him. “And what will happen if the three bears come home and find Goldilocks?” She gestured to indicate they were cast as Goldilocks.

  “Nope. Zainal hadn’t any idea either. He insisted that the Catteni survey said the planet was uninhabited…”

  “With sentient life forms?”

  “Mmmm. Yes, he did make that distinction,” Greene replied and then grinned. “Scared the hell outa even the Sarge when they came across metal doors, fer God’s sake, across the cave entrances.”

  “How’d they get in, then?” Kris asked.

  Greene chuckled again. “We got guys in this outfit with some very interesting skills.”

  Kris grinned back at him. “Where are these sesame caves?”

  “A good half day’s trek from here, so don’t worry. And no road in or out. How’d they get crops in there without making some kinda tracks is puzzling.”

  “Stray mechanical things are more nervous-making than some honest-to-god alien creatures,” Kris said.

  “If you say so. Only the Sarge has sent a detail to scout about and see if they can figure out how and from where the silos get filled. He’s calling a meeting this evening anyway, to explain everything. We might even have more to eat this evening, too.” Greene licked his lips and Kris found herself doing the same thing as the tantalizing smells were wafted toward them on the breeze. “I could’ve eaten a whole one by myself.”

  “You didn’t finish off your bars, did you?”

  “Hell no, and watch yours, will ya? As I said, we got guys, and gals, with taking ways as well as interesting skills.”

  “Oh, lord, Patti Sue,” Kris said and, ducking around Greene, started back to where the girl still slept. She paused long enough to ask Bart if she could take Patti’s share to her.

  “I can count on you give it to her and nobody else?” Bart said, fixing her with a stern eye.

  “Yes, you can,” Kris said solemnly, and found herself a rock on which to carry the hot meat.

  Patti Sue was still asleep. Her food packet was gone. Someone had rolled the girl over to get at it. Kris fumed and then decided that Patti Sue would just have to take some responsibility for herself. She leaned over, careful not to tip the hot meat onto the dirty floor of the cave, and shook Patti Sue’s shoulder. The girl’s reaction—flailing about with hands and kicking out with her feet—was so unexpected that Kris ended up juggling the hot meat from hand to hand, trying to keep it from dropping to the floor.

  “Hey, Patti. Easy now, gal. Don’t make me drop your food. It’s hot,” she cried, trying to duck away from the girl’s windmill of limbs.

  “Kris?” Patti’s voice broke and she stopped her battering. “Ohhhh, you scared me.”

  “Didn’t mean to. Sit up, will you. This’s hot! Use your sleeve…”

  Patti rolled down the overlong cuff and using it as a pad, took the piece from Kris who set about licking her fingers as Patti regarded her portion suspiciously.

  “Don’t ask what it is ’cos no one’s named the thing yet, but it tastes pretty good and it is hot.”

  “I don’t think I could eat anything…” Patti said and held it out to Kris.

  “No way, gal. You eat it. Think of it as the fried chicken your mother used to make…”

  “No’m, I won’t ’cos she couldn’t cook worth doodly,” Patti said in the only personal comment yet to pass her lips. Eyes closed, she then pulled her lips from her teeth and took a tiny and tentative bite. “Oh! It isn’t bad, is it?” And opened her eyes, eating with more relish. “Or maybe it’s ’cos I’m so famished.”

  “Patti, you didn’t think to hide your bars, did you?” Kris asked gently.

  Patti looked up at her and her face fell. “No, why should I? No one would…” And, with one hand, she felt anxiously beside her and under her blanket, her face falling into tragic lines as she realized that her packet was gone. She started moaning and nearly dropped the meat. Kris propped her drooping hand back in the direction of her mouth.

  “So eat that, and we’ll share. It’s not the end of the world, because they’ve found a storage cave with food in it.”

  “Cave? Food?” Patti seemed to shrink in on herself with fear. “There are Catteni living on this world, too?”

  “No, not according to our live Catteni expert…”

  Patti’s eyes got wider with her fright. “A Catteni…”

  “Eat!” Kris said urgently. “There was one Catteni dropped along with us and he’s not a bad guy. He won’t bother you…”

  “Oh, oh, oh,” and Patti moaned all the time she nibbled at the meat.

  Kris had heard about dainty eaters but Patti took the prize.

  * * *

  KRIS STAYED WITH PATTI SUE THEN, AS MUCH BECAUSE the girl was so preternaturally frightened of every footstep in the corridor outside, every shadow that interrupted the torchlight into their cubby, as because she was also tired. Her hands and arm muscles ached from her stint at dressing meat and she had a couple of little nicks from knife cuts which were annoying. Then she remembered her first-aid kit and dabbed them with the orange liquid. It stung briefly but she knew that the Cat disinfectant would reduce any chance of infection.

  She suggested a dip to Patti Sue, but when she had to tell the girl how to get there and the primitive conditions, Patti just curled up, hugging her knees to her chest, and moaned.

  “You’re going to have to stop moaning, girl,” Kris said, driven to it. “I don’t mind but there are others who will. We’re all in the same condition, smelly, scared, and suspicious. So you’re not alone.”

  “But…” Patti Sue began, her eyes wide and distressed as she once again began to either apologize or explain. She shut her mouth for a long moment. “You’re right. I am chicken-livered. I always have been and I guess I always will be. And I won’t say I’m sorry. I am what I am.”

  Kris began to regret her outburst. “Honey, we all are. Scared, I mean.”

  “Are you still my buddy?” And the piteousness of her tone and the beseeching look in her eyes touched Kris the way the constant stream of apologies hadn’t.

  “You got raped, kid?” Kris asked, hunkering down beside her.

  A convulsive shudder swept through Patti Sue’s slender frame and she shot Kris an anguished look. “It shows, doesn’t it?”

  “Not like a birthmark or a scarlet letter,” Kris said as kindly as she could. “The giveaway is how you flinch whenever you hear a man’s voice or see a shadow or someone, totally harmless, like Jay Greene, who only tries to help you. I won’t say there aren’t guys in this group who w
ouldn’t like to…well, you know…because you’re a very pretty and appealing person. But right now, hon, there isn’t anyone with much extra energy. They need it all to stay alive on this crazy world. So why don’t you buck up a bit? I’ll stick by my ol’ trek-buddy as much as I can, but I think I’m going to be getting some work assignments…” or go nutty looking after you, Kris added to herself, “that’ll take me away from you, so let’s introduce you to a couple of other people…women…who keep an eye on you when I’m not here.”

  Patti Sue had become more and more agitated as Kris explained the situation and Kris could see that the girl visibly fought, and subdued, her immediate reaction to such news.

  “Now, c’mon…and take your blanket with you. Not that we don’t have others but it’s wise to keep your things together here.”

  With nervous hands, Patti managed to roll up her blanket and draped it over her shoulder as Kris had. Still anxious, she followed Kris out of the cave, glancing nervously about when she heard voices issuing from other openings and almost treading on Kris’ heels, she was so much her leader’s follower. She hesitated, gasping, when they entered the main cave and she saw so many people moving about on errands, or squatting by fires to cook, chatting with those waiting on the hot meats. Others were making their way to the entrance.

  Surprised, Kris saw that the exit looked out on a darkness broken by the flickering light of torches and a fire. She was somewhat reassured that Mitford felt illumination was safe.

  “We’re safe here, Patti,” she said, motioning to the opening. “Outside’s all lit up like Christmas. Let’s go grab some fresh air and get a good seat for the meeting.”

  Not only did the main cavern reek of cooking odors but others which were not as savory and certainly not appetizing.

  “Oh…” Patti moaned, cringing.

  “You might as well, honey, unless you plan on immuring yourself forever in the stink.”

  “If you say so…” Patti Sue was not going to venture anywhere even with Kris’ assurance.