The Iron Breed (3 page)

“Rutee!” Fear was so strong in Jony it was as if he could taste it, a bitter taste in his mouth. “Rutee, you are hurt!”

“I—I must find a place, Jony—a safe place.” Her voice came in small spurts of words. “Soon—Jony—please—soon . . .”

But it was dark. And where were there any safe places in this
Outside?
Jony knew about the Outside, but only because Rutee had told him before the Big Ones had pulled him away from her long ago and put him in a cage by himself. The strangeness of Outside itself began to impress him as it had not when he had been so intent on finding Rutee.

“Jony—” Rutee's arm about his shoulders was so convulsively tight it hurt, but he did not fight against her hold. “You—you will have to help—help me—”

“Yes. We have to climb down, Rutee. It's hard . . .”

Jony could never remember the details of that descent. That they made it at all, he realized long afterwards, was a wonder. Even when they stood together on the muddy ground they were not safe. It was so dark that any distance away there were only thick shadows. Also they had to go slowly because Rutee hurt so. When those pains came, she was forced to stop and wait. The second time that happened Jony held her hand between his two.

“Rutee—let me go over there. You wait here. Maybe I can find a safe place . . .”

“No . . .”

However, Jony broke her attempt to hold him and ran across a small open space to the shadow he had chosen. He did not know just why he had picked that particular direction, but it seemed of utmost importance.

In the dusk he blundered into a dry pocket. Sometime in the far past a very giant among trees had fallen here. Its upended mass of roots towered skyward; and the cavity which held those was a deep hollow over which vines had crawled and intertwined to enmesh some nearby saplings, forming a roof, which, while not entirely waterproof, kept the worst of the wind and rain away. Drifted into the hollow was a mat of leaves, deep with numerous years of accumulation. Jony's feet sank almost ankle deep in their softness, as he explored swiftly with both hand and eye.

Rutee could come here; he would bring her. And . . . he was already running back to where she stood as a pale figure in the dusk, to catch her hand.

“Come, Rutee—come . . .” He led, half-supported her with all the wiry strength of his small body, toward the rude nest he had found.

TWO

Rutee lay moaning on the leaves. Jony had tried to heap them up over her body, to keep her warmer. But she shoved them off, her swollen body twisting with each new pain. Jony crouched beside her, not knowing what he could do. Rutee—Rutee was hurting! He needed to help her, only he did not know how.

Twice he crawled to the edge of their poor shelter, gazed out into the dusk and the rain. There was no help to be found there. Only Rutee was hurting—bad! He could sense her pain in his own self.

Rutee was caught up in that world of agony. She no longer was aware of Jony, of where she lay, of anything but the pain which filled her tormented body.

Jony began to cry a little. He wanted to strike out—to hurt someone—something—as Rutee hurt. The Big Ones—they had done this! A small, cold seed of hatred lodged deep in him and took root in that moment of despair. Let the Big Ones come hunting them—just let them! Jony's hand closed upon a large stone, his fingers curled about it as he jerked it free from the leaves and the earth. He clutched the crude weapon to him, in his mind seeing the stone fly from his hand, strike full into the ugly face of a Big One—smash—smash—smash!

Yet that trick of mind which had set him apart from the other young, the mind-controlled, also told him that he would fail in any such attempt. A Big One could crush him between wriggling fingers so there was nothing left at all.

“Rutee!” He leaned closer to her, called pleadingly, “Please, Rutee—”

A moan was his only answer. He had to do something—he had to! Jony crawled out into the open, unable to listen any more, his arm crooked over his eyes as if so he could erase the sight of Rutee which was burned into his mind.

He turned his face up into the rain and the wind, knowing in one part of him there was no one there to listen, to help, but saying because he had to: “Please . . . help Rutee . . . please!”

Awareness—Jony spun around. In the dark he could not see, but he knew. Knew that someone, something, was back there in the shadows, watching—listening. But the mind he sensed was not that of a Big One. No, Jony scowled in perplexity for he could not understand the thought he had touched. This was as if something had flashed across his sight for a single instant and then was gone. He was certain of only one thing: whatever witnessed his misery did not mean him harm.

Drawing a deep breath, Jony made himself take one step and then two toward that gathering of shadows.

“You—please—can you help?” he spoke his plea aloud. For a moment or two he thought that the watcher was gone, had melted back into the unknown, for he could no longer pick up the sensation of a presence.

Then there was movement as a shape shambled forward. Though the light was poor Jony could see it was big (not as large as one of the Big Ones but still perhaps twice his own size). He caught his lower lip between his teeth and stood his ground. It—first it had wondered about him, he knew that, and now it was coming because it wanted to . . .

It wanted to help!

Jony was as sure of that as he was of his own misery or Rutee's pain.

“Please,” he said uncertainly—perhaps it could not hear him, nor understand his words if it did. There was a sense of good will which enveloped him as it moved to stand—or hunker—directly before him.

No, this was not a Big One. In no way did the creature resemble those hated enemies. It had a roundish body covered with thick fur, the color marbled with strange patches of light and dark, so that Jony had to watch very carefully or it simply faded back to become a part of the brush again. The four limbs were thick and sturdy. The stranger squatted on the back two, the front ones dangling over its rounded belly. Those forefeet ended in paws which were oddly handlike in outline, though the hairless skin on them was very dark. A round head crowned wide shoulders, with a short, thick neck between. The face was a muzzle, ending in a button of a nose. But the eyes above that were very large and luminous in the dark as they now regarded Jony.

He ventured to move, reaching out one of his own hands to touch the stranger on the forearm. The fur beneath his fingers was damp but very soft. Jony had no fear now; rather a feeling that help had come. He closed his hold on that limb, though his small hand could not span it. But he could feel the muscles strong and hard under the furred skin.

“Rutee?” he said.

There was a queer whining noise from the other—not words—but the sound did carry a message into Jony's mind. Yes, this was help! He turned back to the hollow. The strange creature arose on its hind legs and shuffled along, towering well above the boy. One of the dark-skinned hands rested on Jony's shoulder. And he found the weight vastly comforting.

But there was so little room within the poor shelter Jony had found he had to edge against the rotting roots at the far end so that the stranger could crowd in. The round head swung low, the muzzle nearly touching Rutee, as the creature moved its nose slowly along the woman's contorted body.

“Jony?” Rutee lay with her eyes wide open, but she did not even try to see the boy. Nor when her gaze met that of the sniffing stranger, did she show any surprise. Her arm flailed out. Jony caught her wrist, held tightly, quivering himself as her pain fed into his own body.

The beast was doing something with its black paw-hands, Jony was not sure what. His faith in its help was blind but continued. Rutee shrieked, the sound she made tearing at his head, his mind. He cried out in turn and closed his eyes. He would have put his hands over his ears, but her hold had turned to meet his and was merciless.

Then came another sound—a weak, wailing cry! Jony, astounded, dared to look again. The black paw-hands held the struggling thing which was making that noise. Round head dropped, the nose sniffed carefully along what the creature held as if it needed scent, more than sight, for this matter of importance. Then it held out to Jony the squirming thing. Rutee's hand had dropped away. She lay breathing in long hard gasps.

Against his will Jony took the baby. The stranger had turned back swiftly to Rutee, was again sniffing. Again Rutee screamed weakly, her body jerking.

For the second time the paw-hands held another baby, and the nose sniffed. But this time a long tongue came out between strong teeth. Jony was jolted—it was going to eat—! Before his protest formed in full, he saw that the tongue was washing the baby, thoroughly, from head to foot. Another sniffing examination followed before the child the stranger held was placed gently down on the leaves beside Rutee.

Jony had hardly been aware of the baby in his own hands though that was still crying, squirming against his briar-scratched skin. The paw-hands reached out and he surrendered the baby, to see it washed in turn and then laid down.

Darkness gathered in the hollow, but not so much that Jony could not see Rutee's eyes were closed. Her head had fallen to one side. Frantically he aimed a thought in the way which had been instinctive for him ever since he could remember. No—there was no blankness there. Rutee was alive!

The babies lay against her body, one on either side as the stranger had so carefully placed them. Now the paw-hands raked through the leaves, drawing up bunches of them to place across both Rutee and the twins. Jony could understand. It was so cold, and some of the rain still sifted in. Rutee, the babies needed protection. He set to work on his side, hunting the driest handfuls to spread over the unconscious woman.

He sensed the approval of the stranger. This was right. When Rutee and the babies were covered, except for their faces, the furred one backed away.

“No!” Jony could not bear to be left alone. What if Rutee were sick—hurt again? And the babies—he did not know what to do for the babies! He was frantic in his need to keep the stranger with them.

Paw-hands fell on his shoulders, holding him very still, while those great luminous eyes stared straight into his. Jony wanted to turn his head, to avoid that level gaze, because in his head there was a swaying feeling as if he could not catch hold of an important thought, but only touch the edge of it fleetingly.

He calmed down. There was a purpose in the creature's going, something important to be done. Jony nodded as quickly as if he had been reassured in words familiar to him. He would not be alone except for a little. He had asked for help, there would be help.

Jony considered the thought of help. He had never asked for it since he had been taken forcibly from Rutee's cage and put by himself. Long before that had been done he had known, and Rutee had made it clear to him, that even those who were of his own kind, or at least looked like him, must never be trusted. They thought only the thoughts the Big Ones allowed them. Rutee was not like them, and he was not. He did not know why, only that the fact was important, Rutee had impressed on him. Never to be one who the Big Ones could use. This had been the main lesson of his childhood.

His world had been the cages and what he could see of the lab beyond their walls. However, Rutee had told of Outside. She had once lived Outside, before the Big Ones had come to put her and the others in cages. Jony now began to think back, as he had so many times, on what Rutee had taught him. When they had put him in a cage by himself, he had made himself remember all he could of what Rutee had said.

They were small and weak, and the Big Ones had ways of hurting and forcing them to be what the Big Ones wanted. But it had not been so with Rutee, or with Bron. Of course he could not remember Bron, though Rutee had talked of him so much that Jony sometimes believed he could.

Rutee, and Bron, and many people (far more than still lingered in the cages of the Big Ones) had lived Outside. Then the Big Ones had come. They puffed the smell-stuff which made people go to sleep, and picked up those they wanted. Rutee never knew what had happened to the rest of her people.

Afterwards the Big Ones had used what Rutee called the controllers on their prisoners. Some—Bron was one of those—fought, and he had been put into the dump place. But most of the others became just what the Big Ones wanted after they were controlled.

Some were taken out of their cages while the Big Ones did horrible things to them. Mostly those ended in the dump place when the Big Ones were finished. But young ones such as Jony, and some of those like Rutee, they kept. To the Big Ones they were not people; they were things, just to use.

Rutee had told him over and over that he must never let them use him, that he was not a
thing.
He was Jony and there was no one else exactly like him, just as there was no one exactly like Rutee. Jony moved now, remembering that, looking more closely at the twins.

Their small, damp, wrinkled faces did not look like Rutee's. And there were two of them. Did that mean they
were
alike? Rutee's head turned restlessly on the leaves and Jony became instantly alert.

“Water—” she said faintly, but she did not open her eyes.

Water? There was plenty falling outside the hollow, but Jony did not see how he was going to bring any in. However, he crept out, noticing as he did so, that it seemed to be lightening, but maybe that was only in contrast to the dusk of the hollow. Water?

He looked about him. Not too far away was a plant with big leaves, each one the width of Jony's hand or more. He twisted one of them loose, holding it with upcurved edges where a trickle of rain poured off a vine stem. When he had all he could gather without spilling, he edged carefully in and raised Rutee's head a little, putting the tip of the leaf to her lips so the scant burden of moisture ran into her mouth. She swallowed desperately, and he made the trip again and again.

The last time he returned her eyes were open and looked at him as if she saw him, Jony.