The Golden Enemy (6 page)

“Why do you treat us this way?” he called to it. “We came in peace! What have you got against us?”

That the Golden One understood him, Boy Jaim was certain. But he might have been speaking to the rocks. The only response was a look of contempt that seemed to include all the race of man and his works.

“It's no use,” Emmon muttered. “I've seen enough! The Council must be told of this.” He brought the sled about and headed swiftly for Central. Nervously he mopped his face with a crumpled handkerchief, then added, “Heaven preserve us from such a monster! Did you notice its eyes?”

Boy Jaim moistened dry lips. “I sure did.”

“Hypnotic!” the Elder squeaked. “Positively hypnotic! I knew something was wrong before I saw it, but I couldn't move my hand. If Doubtful hadn't barked—”

Doubtful admitted that he'd whiffed it in his sleep, and had nearly jumped out of his skin. Then he added plaintively, “I wish we could go somewhere and forget it.”

Boy Jaim was beginning to wish the same thing. He put his arm around the dog and heard old Emmon say, “Mutant! That's what it is—an impossible mutant! And it's intelligent. That makes it a terrible danger. I don't know why we have to be afflicted with it at a time like this, when the very stars are threatening …”

“I—I suppose you'll have to vote to destroy it.”

“Certainly! How else could I vote? Skies above, it must be done away with, and as quickly as possible. But without weapons I don't know how it can be done—unless we use poison. Ah, poison on arrows. Of course. It's a most horrible solution, but it has to be.”

Boy Jaim closed his eyes and put his hands over his face.

Central, midway between the other communities, was the only area that might properly be called a town. Though few people lived there, it had theaters and club buildings where everyone met on occasion. Near these were storehouses to which everyone contributed, and other structures housing machinery and equipment where everyone took his turn to help produce what was needed. In the middle, surrounded by a park, was the circular Council Hall.

Usually, when the Council met, the Hall would be jammed with spectators. Today only a small audience ringed the circle of Councilmen in the center, for nearly everyone who was not recovering from a goat invasion was either fighting one or getting ready for one. The meeting had already started when Boy Jaim followed Emmon down the aisle. As was the custom, Andru, who had called the session, was acting as spokesman.

Boy Jaim saw L'Mara sitting alone behind her mother and her grandmother. Beyond her were a group of the older students from Emmon's class. They had watched Boy Jaim come in with the Elder, and now they all looked at him expectantly as he sat down near L'Mara. She barely glanced at him, but instantly her silent questions began beating into his mind.

“
Are the goats in South Com? What's happened? Did you see the bear?
”

“
The goats are wrecking South Com,
” he told her. “
And I saw the bear.
” He visualized his meeting with it, and heard her gasp as she saw it through his mind.

Down in the circle of Councilmen and Elders, Andru deferred to Emmon, who described the bear and told of his experience with it. There were exclamations of astonishment and sudden questions. Then Andru took the floor again and said, “We've no time to waste. I realize many of you will find it difficult to vote for the death of a fellow creature—but this beast is obviously a mutant, and he's extremely dangerous. Not only is he about to destroy all our crops, but he may bring death to many of us unless we act immediately.”

There was a sudden hush when Andru finally asked for the vote. The moment was historic. Man had long ago ceased the taking of life. Life was sacred, and to destroy it for any reason—people felt—would be an act of barbarism.

Some of the more sensitive Councilmen, stricken by conscience, refused to vote. But one by one, the majority of them rose and gave their consent to Andru's plea, and the Elders approved. The Golden One must die.

Boy Jaim had expected this all along. But now in the silence following the death sentence he felt a sudden tightening all through him. He heard Andru say tersely, “Now we must decide how the beast can be destroyed. Has anyone a suggestion?”

Before Emmon could rise and say anything, Boy Jaim had crept from his seat. He gained the aisle and sped in mounting horror for the exit. Outside he began to run. He did not have a sled to flee in, but it hardly mattered so long as he put distance between himself and the Council floor. Doubtful followed, unnoticed.

Behind him a startled L'Mara called silently, “
What's wrong? Why are you leaving?
”

“
Listen to Emmon,
” he flung back. “
You'll know in a minute.
”

He crossed the park and began trotting down the first path he saw that led out of Central. Bitterly he wondered why he had ever taken up the sport of archery. Then he realized it was because he'd never been smart in most of his studies, like the other kids. But he could beat them all with a bow. It was one of the few things that, like talking to animals or finding his way in the forest, he could do better than anyone in the Five Communities.

He expected L'Mara to call him again before he'd gone very far, and she did.

“
Boy Jaim! Did you know they were going to use poisoned arrows on the bear?
”

“
That's a silly question! Why do you think I left?
”

“
You needn't be nasty!
”

“
I can't help it. How would you feel if you were in my place?
”

“
Oh, Boy Jaim, I'm sorry! It's awful about the bear, but it's something that has to be done right away. No one else can shoot the way you can
—”

“
I'm not going to shoot the Golden One. There are dozens of others who can do it
—
he's too big to miss.
”

“
But Boy Jaim, it would be dangerous for anyone else to try. They'd have to get too close. Don't you see? And anyhow, they'd have to find him first
—
and that would be even more dangerous for most people, 'cause they wouldn't know how.
” She paused. “
Are you listening to me?
”

“
Of course I'm listening! How can I help it? You're like a bee right in my head.
” He could have shut her out, but it required an effort. Anyway, he didn't really want to shut her out. He asked, “
Did Andru tell you to call me to meet him at home?
”

“
Yes. He's going to make some special points for your arrows, and Councilman Traml is going to mix up something at his laboratory to smear on them. I think Andru wants to pilot the sled for you.
”

“
Nothing doing. I wouldn't want anybody with me, and you can tell Andru I'm not going home.
”

“
But
—
but where are you going?
”

“
I don't know. Leave me alone.
”

“
Aw, please, Boy Jaim. I know how you feel, but you don't have to take it out on me.
”

“
I'm sorry. But can't you see I've got to be alone so I can think?
”

“
A'right. If
—
if you want me for anything, just call.
”

He was almost sorry when she left him, for now suddenly he was faced with his aloneness in a world where no birds sang, and not even the chatter of a squirrel broke the stillness. The very sunlight seemed cold. He reached the edge of town in a moment and stood undecided, hardly knowing which way to turn. Far behind him a troubled Doubtful stopped and waited patiently, not wanting to intrude.

If Emmon's place hadn't been so far away, he might have headed there, but it would have taken hours to reach it on foot. The sound of running water lured him into the parklike woods on his right, and presently he found himself following a path that wound upward above a rocky creek. Although the area seemed familiar, he was not consciously aware of being drawn to a particular destination until he reached it.

It was a well-remembered gate in a wall. A lump rose in his throat as he unlatched the gate and went through. Years ago, when Doubtful was a pup, this place had been home.

As the gate clicked shut behind him he glimpsed what might have been a chipmunk darting for cover down by the side of the house, and he wondered if it could be old Scatterbrain or one of his family. Probably not, but it made him feel better to see life about.

He moved on up to the terrace, and suddenly paused, smiling. A huge toad sat there at the edge of the sunlight, waiting for flies. “Hi, Warts,” he said, and stooped and touched the toad, whom he'd known for years.

Warts was too limited to do more than blink at him by way of recognition, but it was a welcoming blink and it wiped away some of Boy Jaim's feeling of lostness.

Someone, he realized, had been here and swept the terrace and aired out the house recently, for the front windows under the terrace shelter were open, and there was no litter on the flagstones. He unlatched the front door and entered. The house had been dusted and the big front room looked as inviting as if his parents still lived here. Who could have cleaned the place? L'Mara? But of course. No one else would have bothered. Someday, it was understood, this would be L'Mara's home as well as his own.

A small, muffled sound drew him through the house and down a flight of stone stairs to the lower level which, as in all the older homes, had been cut deep into the hillside. Before he reached the dimness below, wall lights came on automatically and sent a glow through the cavelike openings ahead. It surprised him to find that the solar electric system, built into the roof, still worked.

A little flash of movement jerked him to the left. Abruptly he cried, “Scatterbrain—hey! Don't run off! Don't you know me?”

The chipmunk stopped, and one bright eye peered at him curiously and suspiciously from the safety of a corner. He spoke again. Now Scatterbrain slowly approached and suddenly threw himself upon him, chittering and making a great fuss of recognition.

Something fell from a stuffed cheek pouch to the floor. Boy Jaim picked it up. It was a bean. A trail of beans, he saw, led across the floor to a storeroom where dried foods had always been kept. Scatterbrain, he soon discovered, had broken several jars of beans by pushing them from a shelf and had been busy hiding the contents in the ground outside.

“But why?” Boy Jaim asked. “Don't you know it's too early to be burying things? Especially beans!”

“No, no, no!” Scatterbrain chitter-chattered. “Need food!”

“But there's plenty of food everywhere! Why, the nut trees are loaded—or haven't you noticed? Besides, you're wasting your time, burying the beans now. It's midsummer. They'll all sprout.”

“No, no, no! Need food. Must hurry.”

Scatterbrain rushed away and vanished through some secret hole that let him out to the rocky hillside. In seconds he returned with empty cheek pouches. Boy Jaim watched him thoughtfully as he gathered more beans and flashed away again. Scatterbrain might be flighty and excitable and have a little difficulty communicating, but he wasn't stupid. Not a bit. He knew exactly what he was doing, though it didn't seem to make sense. What was driving him?

As the chipmunk came back the second time, Boy Jaim asked, “Have you heard about the Golden One?”

Scatterbrain paused and chittered questions.

After several exchanges, Boy Jaim gathered that Scatterbrain was aware of something very unpleasant in the air, but hadn't learned what it was. Did it have anything to do with hiding winter food so early? Scatterbrain didn't know. All he knew was that the future looked
very
bad, and that everyone must gather food.

Frowning, Boy Jaim turned to a cubbyhole on the right and sat down in a chair facing a desk. What was going to happen? Even old Emmon had said that there was trouble in the stars. According to Malla, it had already started.

The desk, of age-darkened wood, had been beautifully carved and built into the wall by some early relative. Automatically he opened it and looked curiously at the large cloth-bound volume lying before him. It was his father's journal.

The sight of it now, on this day of growing uncertainty, somehow gave him comfort. It was almost as if his father stood close and could talk to him. He thumbed slowly through the journal, pausing occasionally to glance over a page. Most of the entries had to do with weather and the crops, and local happenings. But his father had been interested in a thousand things. A question at the top of a page suddenly caught his eye. In strong script his father had written:

What actually happened at the Barrens? Was ancient man's last huge city destroyed by a meteor, as we have been taught? Or was that teaching a lie?

We in the Five Communities think highly of ourselves, as if man could do no wrong. But secretly I think otherwise. I suspect we are the remnants of a murderous race, and that man himself was mainly responsible for what happened at the Barrens.

I hope I am wrong. Emmon insists that Nature alone caused the destruction and points out that the entire surface of the globe was entirely changed at about the same time. I do not like to think that man might have disturbed a balance that triggered the entire change—but I cannot help wondering.

The fact remains that there were only a few survivors: a small group of humans who were our ancestors, and a limited number of birds and animals. Why did these few survive when all the rest died? Were they tougher than the others, and immune to something that killed the majority? Or were they mutants? If they were mutants, then all of us today, man and beast, belong to new breeds—though whether or not we are any better still remains to be seen.

Boy Jaim, shocked by what he had read, had momentarily forgotten the Golden One. Could man himself have caused the destruction at the Barrens? He couldn't believe it. Even early man must have been too intelligent to kill his own kind. But there might be something to the mutant idea. He flipped the page and read: